Becoming acutely aware of all that I took for granted ##SundayBlogShare #poetry


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Becoming acutely aware of all that I took for granted

Someone, somewhere
Can understand me
I’ll never meet them
Not be loved like they could love me

I’ve so much to learn
About finding the right people to love
God, but life is loneliness
Despite all friendships made

Inspite of grinning faces and passing stages
‘Parties’ with no purpose in truth
Loneliness of the soul well
It’s an artistic condition some

ii

Suffer from it more than others
Like allergies, a more unique brain
Someone, somewhere
Has a brain a little more like mine

I’ll never meet them, but sometimes
Knowing that they exist, helps me
Get through the day, writing
Like an unabridged journal from me to you

iii

It’s overpowering and horrible to be self-conscious
Making up narrative and plots, inventing them
All the time, like spirit-chatter
Why so festive, why so gloomy
Because my inner voice is powerful.

Author’s Note:

This is a tribute to all human beings who suffer from the condition known as “poet’s brain”, please share it on facebook, twitter and other social media. There is some evidence that writers, artists and especially poets have more challenges regulating their emotions, lifestyle, anxiety and subsequent consequences of struggles with mental illness sometimes leading to breakdowns, and even to premature deaths by suicide.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Poets_who_committed_suicide

http://www.poetrysoup.com/famous_poets/suicidal_poets.aspx
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Featured Artist:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Esencia-Primavera-527848910

I Died for Beauty


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I died for beauty many times
Though my heart was scarce
I poured it on the page to be a poet fair

A dead breed, adjusted only
In the tomb, I died for beauty
Like the extinct Romantic –

All of us speaking of love
In wild adjoining rooms
I questioned God softly

Why I failed, to be a writer
In such a world, it was because
The world had grown ugly

Over the centuries, without nature’s
Touch, ‘I died for beauty’ I replied
The future cared not for beauty anymore

My ancestors wept and my descendants
Did not know, that the moss had
Reached the lips, of all wombs

That came before, I died for beauty
For a poem, lost and covered up by names
Of all the poets that came before

The Universe does not applaud the meek –
And poets’ love a royal dress
Distinguished to nobody in particular

I did for beauty anonymously
Without a trace, a unit in diversity
My own wheel in the starlit dark

I cannot say why I turned for beauty
In tides of Supernova, I died for beauty
Like last night, on some unfrequented road.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/dari-411941266