Words are worthless some of the time, they lack emotion and never rhyme,
they’re pointless and stupid and sometimes fail, to express what I feel from head to tail,
they rarely ever capture a thought or a feeling or a wish or a memory or dream,
but words aren’t as worthless as they seem…
words are things, a small drop of ink,
like dew upon a thought, producing that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
If I could write a word, a single word, to ignite within the masses -
passion. Then I could gladly say I’d lived.
If I could give a speech to stir the hearts of thousands, I’d get up each day and know that I was worth something.
If I could run 20 miles, I’d know I was an athlete, a star.
If I could understand a single grain of sand in all its infinity, I’d be unstoppable.
If I could change the world with one flick of the wrist, I’d know power - without limits.
Or I could be me. Which is a start.
Because I loved you more,
than suits a guy to say,
it annoyed you and I promised, to toss the thought away,
to put distance between us,
we parted, tears in eyes,
“farewell,” you said, “forget me.”
“I will, my dear” said I.
And when I’m dead and buried,
and my headstone you pass
I hope that you’ll remember that you were once my lass.
And stop beside the headstone,
your heart no longer stirred,
and admit the lad that loved you,
did his best and kept his word.
- Gabháin Ó’Cathail. 26th Feb’ 2012. 00:16 am
Éire.
Future,
Present,
Past,
My view, will always be focused on nothing.
But you.
Quoting this.
Repeating that.
A poem , a song, statistics, facts.
To hell with it.
Only ignorant people make other peoples words their passions, I’d much rather prefer to live life than read about anothers.
Change is good.
Or so I’ve been told,
I’ve heard it before,
from the young and the old.
But I disagree,
Because for me, change has only brought misery…
I remember a boy,
With mousy brown hair and pale skin,
Who never knew where to begin,
He had so much that he wanted to do,
But no time did he have to spare,
Where did that ambitious young boy go, where oh where oh where?
I suppose it’s kind of silly,
To look for him, you see
For the young boy full of ambition,
Gradually turned into me.
Unfortunately.
Once upon a time,
When the moon was mystical and stars were tiny diamonds that I’d never understand,
I wrote your name in the White sand of a beach and made a wish as the tide swept it away.
I guess that wishes don’t always come true, but every wish I’ve ever made was a wish for you.
The very fact that you are breathing,
Instills in me a sense of obligation.
That soft and subtle kiss,
That awoke within me - love,
Was quite magnificent in its own insignificance.
But wars have been started over less.
I guess at the end of the day,
All you can say is “I tried”,
And then go to sleep.
Our
Relationship
ReLies
Upon
TrUSt
And revolution
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
- William Shakespeare.
As the moonlight fades,
I come to see.
Love don’t last eternally.
There is no line between right and wrong,
and little difference between silence and song.
As night turns to day, it starts to seem
like our love was nothing but one nights dream.
In a perfect world,
You would be my girl,
Maybe a little smarter,
And a little less promiscuous,
But this isn’t a perfect world…
So please accept this kiss?
