Path

Enjoy the poem. Find Phoenix at http://amazon.com/author/phoenix_rises

everything [through]

a strange reality

everything 

(an) missed opportunity 

too much

a brave realization

I often forget (I)

I’m not so

readily apparent or ready to read

these strange poems [I compose]

of chance

and all the things

I keep desiring

what I want

is a vague attraction

a hesitation

I move through

my favorite 

words to speak

I speak often

of all these

possibilities 

I see

and imagine

[everything through]

help me to see

deeper meanings

my own creations

all that I desire

help me to understand 

[help—me to see—

truth]

I want to see

the truth

but I don’t decide that—

; path

NASA

Enjoy the poem. Find Phoenix at http://amazon.com/author/phoenix_rises

white blue red favorite shirt

dirt

cheap hurt

all the dead words

that we insert 

into our brainwashed minds

existing insane

within

existing

at all

triple fall

words we speak through the violence

we repeat

thoughts we stop

that we defeat

thoughts we prevent

it’s a constant trick

uptick fake and quick

can’t talk

or exist

or flourish

the same styles we revile

and revamp

recertify and stamp

the same 

harm we cause with 

our own hand 

beat bloody blue bruised dreams and

won’t repent

or repeat

or feel anything 

anything we may block

for being

too off track

another trick

it’ll work it

works and

that hurts

stop me for sport blood

sport

can’t keep track of it

another trick I 

sell out always

want more of it

to feel good

to feel wanted

to want anything I might want

I’m grateful for that

but you missed the point

of my whole words

and free poems

and star theories and 

planet promises like black holes

I wanted something else

something not so 

clear

maybe

not so obvious

but still special

to see

a star

or maybe develop a theory 

that could repair

the trauma of our 

world

thoughts of the galaxies

and entire moralities

to see it all somehow

I wanted more

I wanted more from you

I wanted to be me

I wanted to show you something

I wanted to see the universe

not just bought a dirt cheap shirt but I just repeat myself unsure:

I wanted a trip 

outside of the universe

that we make.

Logic (A Poem)

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e

E = MC

calculate the risk like in physics

r

r

rar(e) w-rong 

word-

id 

deep psychological stuff

not enough

I’ve I 

I’d

feel too much of a cutthroat LOGIC

dead code 

code dead

wrap

your head around

(un)sound argument 

sad I’ve felt 

I have(

lost nearly everything I ever cared about

good intent-ions

to feel

e

E

E-verything and light isn’t squared

right—

word

id word dead 

I’d (CODED)

believe anything to feel better

a

a A destruction of Action —

(*relinquish)*

I communicate nothing

getting by with

E AN

ounce of pain eON

hurt

anyway and unchange

a tornado spinning in my head A UFO

life

the lie (like)

lost outside symbol-ism cold from

a lack of wisdom—

it might seem similar.. It’s not

too much 

of words we’ve lost.

This poem was about logic but feeling crushed is not logical.

honest

Find Phoenix at http://amazon.com/author/phoenix_rises

Enjoy the poem.

I guess I had thought I wasn’t good enough.

Maybe because I have feelings

I don’t understand.

And who understands themselves today?

I try to imagine if I was different.

But I don’t like this.

I guess in that way

I can allow myself.

To be different.

I can tell the truth anyway.

I can be different.

If I’ll be accepted,

or just left in the volatile confusion of

a world that makes me feel

stuck. Cold ice heart frigid.

And yet,

I move forward.

Pick myself up.

I tell myself,

if, maybe a little kiss, anyway,

or anything meaningful,

anything I’ll care about,

I’ll like you, probably,

or instead, I’ll just think of

when I was a kid again,

and didn’t know who I was,

but if it’s possible to fall in love,

I really want to.

If the key is to wait for the truth,

you’ll wait a long time.

Truth is hard.

I don’t communicate

raw emotions

and the monologue of the tormented thoughts,

I’m honest,

and truth is nothing to me

without decency.

Honesty.

It’s like

a kind of sad song you listen to a lot.

A sad scene in a show.

Did you think I’d be someone special,

or was it just

the empty promises

and broken hearts

and sad songs.

I don’t want to freeze myself in such cold loss again,

I’m myself again.

To feel love is a huge responsibility.

I don’t know what it means.

I don’t know what any of it means.

But I will nonetheless 

seek the truth. Honest!

I’m not such a kid anymore.

I’m a man.

Maybe I’d want anything different,

or nothing at all.

To feel love

will still break your heart. Always.

My phrases and sentiments can’t protect me from this.

Yet I move forward.

To love anyway.

Because I need to.

I love myself today.

spirit

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I derail

thought of (implicit Hell)

made a place

to be and see

to think of no reality 

style

indifferent or apathetic

risk took

or just another dead spirit

dead

flood 

of

bitter blood

unstable soul

too cold

I invent an entire reality in my head

to break

my own rhythms and my

corrupted systems

trying to imagine

but feeling too much

of my own

self-censor

sweet words and song that

makes me feel

wrong

sweet

sweet song 

I can’t philosophize through

my own create

create

creative lies

I

want something anyway

without knowing why

my

bitter blood

feud with

a corrupting flood

dead 

guitar chord

thoughts as black as my

false god

all

the words I want to                           split down the middle

because 

I don’t care

I don’t care anymore

spark of divinity made

to be dark like

the corruption of 

spirited insight

bitter bitter

free flight

made

f

r

e

e

f

a

l

l

sensitive to nothing and

cold spirit and

dead spirited response 

do I say anything again

or just 

hold

back

never held

mood

and this bitter bitter blood 

sweet song 

a flood

I just want to feel at home

in

a brutal shade of poem:

I’ve lost track again.

paranoiaa

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the world dictated its own story I couldn’t see it—

reality a dead (his)tory how anyone lives at all seems to baffle paranoia-

a-

a, like a different shade of narrative;

I forget often how easily the path I take goes how superficial and so reality is a paranoid sleep deep deep paranoid death

paranoia-

-a – is not an easy pattern to categorize (-d)

(sometimes it will suck then)

and sometimes language itself collapses into a-n infinite space

I thought that I imagined something else but it wasn’t so easily what I imagined paranoid-d-d paranoi

a-

I forgot that my pattern

(slashed—)

was trashed— by my thoughts the things I can’t change the words I forget to speak in such senses )it’ll just be the suffering of hard days 

(and hard nights it’s an empty road

but it’s usually a- the same -d thing (-d) like an unstructured pattern screaming PARANOIAA METAL and the truly dangerous reality of the unheard note where I forgot most of it anyway I don’t know why I did the same

-d

s-

paranoia)s structuredpatternchaotic

!THE WORLD IS CHANGING—

?

fire

Enjoy the poem. Find Phoenix at http://amazon.com/author/phoenix_rises

I exist.

in everything .

—maybe

darker routes

confusing 

paths.

My style is chaos ,

I envision fire

burning me

like everything

like all the burning in me

the pain from flame

a complete lack of regard

yeah it’s hard—

the e-motion of too much time

I lose track of 

beauty. trick

try and

make it

it’s crazy how these things change all the time

but such

whole realities

are out of my control

like a conjunction of

bad days such a bad day

I am a butterfly made

dead by

beauty and bad

bad

days

and fire

the fire

rewrite

rewire 

response

inspire

I’m sorry for the complexity the falsity

the way that my entire path

confounds such an expectation

of change

of

it’ll , feel the same

without knowing why

fly

dead 

bad day

a butterfly

The beauty of storms in a hurricane chaos

the structure 

of every rupture

losing track losing

trick— [of what you.

need

a sensitivity of meaning

crises ..

and so much doubt

to be

cracked by circumstance

by my own recognition

of what this is a fire I need inspire.

Don’t

hold me back

brutal bleed or

angst pain pangs anxiety 

I’m sorry about the lack of aesthetics

but it’s not really another one of my tricks

it’s the truth that I snuff out my own 

FIRE

( fire )—

where I lose track

of the flame from too much pain 

but it’s not

Like the (fire

DOESN’T STILL BURN!!!!