When your Dreams are Better than your Reality... -Villanelle

I dream of better times.
when fantasy couldn't be worse than reality,
I runaway in my mind.

nowadays, explosives give us our "sun shine."
I dont want to count the number of casualties,
so instead i dream of better times.

the inflation in the rate of crime
makes me dread actuality.
i runaway in my mind.

ignorance may be bliss, fine,
but lately ignorance has been a paucity.
I Dream of better times.

I won let the mistakes of others define
my life. instead i'll use my creativity
and runaway in my mind.

There's a fine line
drawn between fiction and authenticity.
Fate is ruthless; unkind.
I dream of better times
and runaway in my mind.

-My own dreams influenced this poem. I love dreaming. Writing this poem was a little difficult but i enjoyed it.

Mesmerizing Melodies- Occasional

Blasting music into my brain
Embedding the lyrics on my head
Stamping the rhythm on my skull.
I drown out the troubles of the world as i lay in bed.

The melody flows along with my blood
and intertwines with my bones.
but as soon as my safe escape dies,
back into the real world i'll go.


-Theres not a day that goes by where I don't listen to music. it's my muse and this poem really describes what it does to me.

Unbiased sobs -Sonnet

Screams of newborns mimic cries of mourners.

Sobs follow life just as they follow death.

Creators differ, but fate both accepts.

Reception of reality anchors

The unstable ‘til waves of a fire

Burn assurances. Ashes are then swept

Into the eyes of the renewed well-kept.

Courageous waterworks cling to corners.

Many grim events are products of life

but blessings occur  as well. Dead-weight

tends to productively create a rife

of weeps, each tear shed teaches and creates

tough skin, strong-willed hearts, and disciplined strife’s.

Beautiful tears; they don’t discriminate.

-I have no idea where the concept for this poem came from but actually writing it was hard because i have a hard time following rules... Personally, i don't like sonnets.  

The Hard times of a Soldier- Memory

Dodging weapons as I reload
ammunition.
My opponent shows no mercy;
ruthless.
Firing at him every chance I get but he's
invincible.
Sweat parachutes from my face; aborting while they have a chance,
smart.
A blow to the head hurts but i pull through it, its only
blood.
I run out of ammo and soon out of options. I have to
surrender.
I wave my white flag.

- Childhood games with my brother influenced this poem. we used to go to war in my living room. using socks instead of bullets(: I enjoyed writing this poem

Whats the Point?- Literature

“School is shortened, discipline relaxed philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts.”

School is Shortened,

Discipline relaxed,

Philosophies, histories, languages

Dropped.

English and spelling

gradually neglected.

Finally, almost, completely

Ignored.

Life is immediate

and the job counts,

but pleasure lies all about.

Why learn anything?

 -The passage above is an excerpt from Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. 

Ignorant Geniuses -Five Finger

Children are Butterflies.
Winged Art.
Puzzle pieces of abstract
paintings
Trace the lines of clouds.

No care in the world,
Oblivious to dangers.
Outstanding ignorance, but they say
ignorance is bliss
so unknown events encourage dreams.

The sight of
their blue wings
make me green.

Confetti colored creatures crawl carelessly.

Life is a struggle for most
people. Life is short for the
less fortunate. Life is filled with
war, but my Life is forgotten
when I dream of life as
butterflies soaring without obstacles in Life.

-I always wondered what it would be like to not be human, and instead, be a butterfly. and not have to go through struggle. Following the layout of this poem was difficult though.

Pretty Flaws- Prose

Models appear to be perfect
on the outside,
but they wear masks-
masks made of chemicals put on in preparation for
cameras.
Removed make-up reveals the
Mood-swings,
Unmanageable hair,
Conflicted feelings,
and Broken heats that make up a
Timid,
yet true Beauty,
It's the IMPERFECTION that makes her
PERFECT.

- I wrote this poem while listening to Beyonce's Flaws and all. the concept and lyrics inspired me