When our thoughts are quietest,
We hear echoes of the past.
Some are pleasant
Others are like broken glass.
This space between late and early
It is the playground of emotions.
Silent reflection on good times
Memories of pain that cause commotions.
The world seems to be at a standstill
While our heads spin away.
Dreaming in real-time
As night fades into day.
One must set,
As the other is to rise.
Hurt lingers like waning darkness;
Happiness filters in like sunlight in dim skies.
Hands align on clocks
Six is now the time.
When the morning is born
The night echoes in the mind.
-A. Lewis
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Inclement - 7/26/14
Time heals all wounds,
So the heartbroken simply have to stay strong and wait...
But what of the heartbreakers?
What is our fate?
Regret sets like the Sun.
Sadness rises like the Moon.
Alternating like night and day,
Leaving only the hope that peace will arrive soon.
Thoughts are much more like big, dark clouds.
Storms of contemplation rule.
Every "I wonder" rumbles like thunder,
While "maybes" and "what-ifs" pour vehemently.
Concern strikes like lightning,
Quick and intense.
It all happened despite decisions made with good intents.
What's right?
What's best?
Questions with no clear-cut answers.
...answers I surely won't find in this weather.
There aren't enough sandbags in the world,
Not enough levies in life,
To repel, or even restrain, a flood of doubts.
As water levels rise,
I can't help but be reminded of half-full eyes,
Welling with emotions swept around by the forces of nature.
Father Time will be responsible for your recuperation.
Karma will be responsible for my remuneration.
I'd give my last bit of sanity to give you the first sign of peace,
To put all of the pieces back together.
Instead, I'll watch you do it all,
Through the melancholy rainfall
Of this weather.
So the heartbroken simply have to stay strong and wait...
But what of the heartbreakers?
What is our fate?
Regret sets like the Sun.
Sadness rises like the Moon.
Alternating like night and day,
Leaving only the hope that peace will arrive soon.
Thoughts are much more like big, dark clouds.
Storms of contemplation rule.
Every "I wonder" rumbles like thunder,
While "maybes" and "what-ifs" pour vehemently.
Concern strikes like lightning,
Quick and intense.
It all happened despite decisions made with good intents.
What's right?
What's best?
Questions with no clear-cut answers.
...answers I surely won't find in this weather.
There aren't enough sandbags in the world,
Not enough levies in life,
To repel, or even restrain, a flood of doubts.
As water levels rise,
I can't help but be reminded of half-full eyes,
Welling with emotions swept around by the forces of nature.
Father Time will be responsible for your recuperation.
Karma will be responsible for my remuneration.
I'd give my last bit of sanity to give you the first sign of peace,
To put all of the pieces back together.
Instead, I'll watch you do it all,
Through the melancholy rainfall
Of this weather.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
The Unsaid - 7/24/14
Do the words we leave unspoken
Scream in our minds?
Do they
Whisper in our hearts?
Or do they
Echo in our souls?
Where do they go?
Perhaps they fall in fields filled with memories?
Maybe that is a fortuitous fate.
When the past is recalled,
They show up, not a moment too late,
Accompanying images with intimate words
That once held appropriate weight,
But are now so heavy that they feel slurred.
Do we shackle these thoughts?
Trap them in our dark places
Because of the light that they once brought?
Hold them down...
Do anything to slow them down...
Because they remind us of what we once sought?
Ah, we drown them, right?
Night after night,
Dark liquor or white.
Intoxicate these ideas so they never seem stable enough to trust?
Or do we submerge them just to save them,
Playing hero to see how much they mean to us?
If we knew where they went,
What would it really mean?
Remnants of sentiments...
Would it be like visiting a crime scene?
Or maybe more like a morgue?
A collection of once warm and meaningful statements,
Now cold, lifeless, and stored...
Do the words we leave unspoken
Scream in our minds?
Do they
Whisper in our hearts?
Or do they
Echo in our souls?
Where do they go?
...do we really want to know?
Or are we asking just for show?
-A. Lewis
Scream in our minds?
Do they
Whisper in our hearts?
Or do they
Echo in our souls?
Where do they go?
Perhaps they fall in fields filled with memories?
Maybe that is a fortuitous fate.
When the past is recalled,
They show up, not a moment too late,
Accompanying images with intimate words
That once held appropriate weight,
But are now so heavy that they feel slurred.
Do we shackle these thoughts?
Trap them in our dark places
Because of the light that they once brought?
Hold them down...
Do anything to slow them down...
Because they remind us of what we once sought?
Ah, we drown them, right?
Night after night,
Dark liquor or white.
Intoxicate these ideas so they never seem stable enough to trust?
Or do we submerge them just to save them,
Playing hero to see how much they mean to us?
If we knew where they went,
What would it really mean?
Remnants of sentiments...
Would it be like visiting a crime scene?
Or maybe more like a morgue?
A collection of once warm and meaningful statements,
Now cold, lifeless, and stored...
Do the words we leave unspoken
Scream in our minds?
Do they
Whisper in our hearts?
Or do they
Echo in our souls?
Where do they go?
...do we really want to know?
Or are we asking just for show?
-A. Lewis
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Ghosts - 7/21/14
What is it that speaks to you...
That sneaks to you,
In the middle of the night?
Who's visiting you?
What remnants are reanimated?
Does your recollection rile you up?
Or do you wish to relinquish it all?
We all have ghosts.
Emotions that never truly fade.
Feelings that leave, only to return...
Seeking to plague the places they once stayed.
Lit only by the moon,
They glow dimly;
Memorable relics of forgotten times.
Never haunting,
They simply stop by to remind us
That the past is never that far behind us.
-A. Lewis
That sneaks to you,
In the middle of the night?
Who's visiting you?
What remnants are reanimated?
Does your recollection rile you up?
Or do you wish to relinquish it all?
We all have ghosts.
Emotions that never truly fade.
Feelings that leave, only to return...
Seeking to plague the places they once stayed.
Lit only by the moon,
They glow dimly;
Memorable relics of forgotten times.
Never haunting,
They simply stop by to remind us
That the past is never that far behind us.
-A. Lewis
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Dawning - 6/21/14
What happens when the person you adore
Enjoys what's given and pre-orders what's in store?
Does it mean as much when the person wants more?
Or is it just as nice when you've been implored?
The little things can become big deals.
Relationships can progress to mountain biking from the rose-colored big wheels.
It's amazing to see the ups and downs of two people consistently relating,
When conversations can go from doting to aggravating.
Wide eyes can start to squint,
Once-blurred flaws now appear in clear focus, as though under microscopic lens.
Personalities wax and wane,
Tides of emotions ebb and flow.
Arguments can tax and strain,
While discussions heal and offer ways to grow.
Sex creates connections of the soul,
Blinding the mind and binding bodies.
It can be a very deep level of bonding,
Or the last thread keeping both parties from absconding.
Love is often extolled,
Both in verse and in song,
But what often isn't told,
Is the work it takes to keep it moving right along.
Yes, beauty springs forth when love happens,
The prettiest pastures proliferating in our hearts.
However, grass doesn't remain green on its own.
In order for the grass not to seem greener on any other side,
It's imperative to take care of home.
Growth, respect, affection, and interest.
Maintain them all, and encourage more.
Be too creative to get bored,
And too involved for the other to feel ignored.
That way, whether it's random or implored,
You'll always have plenty in store for the person you adore.
-A. Lewis
Enjoys what's given and pre-orders what's in store?
Does it mean as much when the person wants more?
Or is it just as nice when you've been implored?
The little things can become big deals.
Relationships can progress to mountain biking from the rose-colored big wheels.
It's amazing to see the ups and downs of two people consistently relating,
When conversations can go from doting to aggravating.
Wide eyes can start to squint,
Once-blurred flaws now appear in clear focus, as though under microscopic lens.
Personalities wax and wane,
Tides of emotions ebb and flow.
Arguments can tax and strain,
While discussions heal and offer ways to grow.
Sex creates connections of the soul,
Blinding the mind and binding bodies.
It can be a very deep level of bonding,
Or the last thread keeping both parties from absconding.
Love is often extolled,
Both in verse and in song,
But what often isn't told,
Is the work it takes to keep it moving right along.
Yes, beauty springs forth when love happens,
The prettiest pastures proliferating in our hearts.
However, grass doesn't remain green on its own.
In order for the grass not to seem greener on any other side,
It's imperative to take care of home.
Growth, respect, affection, and interest.
Maintain them all, and encourage more.
Be too creative to get bored,
And too involved for the other to feel ignored.
That way, whether it's random or implored,
You'll always have plenty in store for the person you adore.
-A. Lewis
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
The Quarter-life - 6/4/14
Thoughts of the quarter-life.
Working hard to avoid that "may I take your order" life,
Working hard to live that "beyond the border" life.
Life isn't worth living if it isn't beyond borders, right?
That's in reference to the comfort zone.
We're all trying to step out of it,
Yet we're trying to feel at home.
Working hard to set up a future,
Yet trying to enjoy our youth before it's gone.
Trying.
A word that comes up often.
Paying it forward without having what it's costing.
To cope,
We shell out cake just to taste the frosting.
See...
We all have goals and dreams,
But reality can be a bit much.
While we're trying to figure out what it all means,
We tend to end up a bit out of touch...
And that's when we come back to Earth.
Spending our very last on "first things first."
Feels like building an empire out of pennies.
A tiresome task of tremendous tedium.
If there are truly many ways to achieve success,
Struggle seems to be the most common medium.
No one's complaining though.
Not when we have instagram days,
Twitter nights,
And tumblr mornings.
Commenting, liking, reblogging, and tweeting.
Socially involved and aware.
To post is to live, to share is to care.
We vent, we laugh.
We pass around images of things we can't have.
We discuss net worth, we discuss rap.
We skate around being cash-strapped,
Encumbered by student loans,
Blaring reality TV and hip-hop over the groans,
Call it "griping" when someone moans,
Although it's a travesty that mainly debt is what our generation owns.
Such is the quarter-life.
The "although I have two degrees, may I take your order" life.
The "I need good vibes, so I'm a movie and music hoarder" life.
Rambling until four in the AM.
Thinking of dream positions and how no one would pay them.
Meditating on obstacles to our success and how to slay them.
Contemplating life decisions and party attendance.
Relationships teetering because of dependence and persistence,
Friendships swaying because of distance and insistence,
Dating seems to be a mix of maybes and misfits.
Everything seems to be happening all at once,
Happening quickly.
Yet progress is moving both slowly and gently.
Still making moves intently.
In an age where digital and instant are the new waves,
We know there's more to life.
We may be the last to be about that "brick and mortar" life.
Much love to us all,
As we live through the quarter-life.
-A. Lewis
Working hard to avoid that "may I take your order" life,
Working hard to live that "beyond the border" life.
Life isn't worth living if it isn't beyond borders, right?
That's in reference to the comfort zone.
We're all trying to step out of it,
Yet we're trying to feel at home.
Working hard to set up a future,
Yet trying to enjoy our youth before it's gone.
Trying.
A word that comes up often.
Paying it forward without having what it's costing.
To cope,
We shell out cake just to taste the frosting.
See...
We all have goals and dreams,
But reality can be a bit much.
While we're trying to figure out what it all means,
We tend to end up a bit out of touch...
And that's when we come back to Earth.
Spending our very last on "first things first."
Feels like building an empire out of pennies.
A tiresome task of tremendous tedium.
If there are truly many ways to achieve success,
Struggle seems to be the most common medium.
No one's complaining though.
Not when we have instagram days,
Twitter nights,
And tumblr mornings.
Commenting, liking, reblogging, and tweeting.
Socially involved and aware.
To post is to live, to share is to care.
We vent, we laugh.
We pass around images of things we can't have.
We discuss net worth, we discuss rap.
We skate around being cash-strapped,
Encumbered by student loans,
Blaring reality TV and hip-hop over the groans,
Call it "griping" when someone moans,
Although it's a travesty that mainly debt is what our generation owns.
Such is the quarter-life.
The "although I have two degrees, may I take your order" life.
The "I need good vibes, so I'm a movie and music hoarder" life.
Rambling until four in the AM.
Thinking of dream positions and how no one would pay them.
Meditating on obstacles to our success and how to slay them.
Contemplating life decisions and party attendance.
Relationships teetering because of dependence and persistence,
Friendships swaying because of distance and insistence,
Dating seems to be a mix of maybes and misfits.
Everything seems to be happening all at once,
Happening quickly.
Yet progress is moving both slowly and gently.
Still making moves intently.
In an age where digital and instant are the new waves,
We know there's more to life.
We may be the last to be about that "brick and mortar" life.
Much love to us all,
As we live through the quarter-life.
-A. Lewis
Thursday, May 1, 2014
One Last Thought Before Sleep - 5/1/14
I lay my head on pillows stuffed with memories. As my body begins to relax, my mind ramps up its energies. Eyes close to reveal the stunning scenery of surreal sentiments, surroundings shaped by shows of affection. Such recollection is never unwelcome, but at this time, it's an esteemed guest. My night has drawn to a close, but my heart is open. It spills across my soul...staining the draining spirit that now seeps out and creeps into the night. The stars glimmer and gleam as the dream machine projects brilliant images of bae, while the mind bustles and beams with the sort of enthralled glow that could coat the moon in gold for all the world to see. It's a light that shines deeply in the dark corners of the mind, illuminating the places where nightmares and jitters could walk their dim paces and rear their grim faces. Traces of consciousness fade seamlessly into the slumber, coaxed by your ethereal presence -- ever-so-slightly. Nightly. You are the last thing to cross my mind; the first sign of a good night's sleep. A role that was not given. A role I didn't know I was missing. A role I hope you keep.
-A. Lewis
-A. Lewis
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