Winged Lizard Poems

[[Inactive]]

People often talk about how they will do things in life.
Every day, they speak of this and that.
Only to find out, they can't handle the strife.
People often think they'll live rich and fat
Life isn't only about the rewards to the lazy
Everyone knows that life is more than coin weighing you down each place you sat.
Life is something they want to be hazy,
I don't want that ignorance, but then I must be without bliss.
Eyes of the self-conscious are often seen as annoying or crazy
They just don't know, maybe I'm the only one who's sane.
Have I been right? Or is it just ignorance against ignorance?
Everyone eventually wanes.
Years pass and I still wonder if I'm the one who's right...or if I'm the one who's in a trance.
Are we all jaded?
Really, in all that has been said
Every word is just the notion in my head
Floating in a jumble of nonsensical pseudo-intellect
All I do is try hard to inspect
Killing me with truth, all I can do is pretend.
Endlessly dancing around it, all I can do is bend.

---

High school brings out the "best" of the things in me.

[[Inactive]]

Every day, I see your face.
Shimmering, living, and my heart is just a race.
But the beating is illusionary,
I wonder sometimes if the heart's just a theory
But then I realize that's love I'm hearing.


Irony is that I see you
Faded
Splitting us is the world of the living
Omni-directionally I can see you,
It's a little chilling.
But I'm still beating, beating. beating.
It might just be my breath,
Because Love is just a theory.


I see the detail, the laughs and what makes your filling.
I look back, a mirror tells me something not as thrilling.
I'm faded, my body is blank.
I'm jaded, my heart is missing.
I hold onto nothing but my world of chilled beings
I'm apart of nothing but the glaciers


Can you see?
The wanderer in the trees, in the snow, in the sky.
I can, from all these angles. I see you withering.
But to me it's just a waxing.
To you it's a moon's waning.
I can see the moon, and the moon is you.
Where you see blue
I see the beauty of truth.


But separated we are, by the living.
If to your ears, my words I could be delivering
I'd ask, "What is it like to have a body...
to be living?"
Because the real beauty is that you are here
And the theories are pumped by being unaware
You're living with or without fear,
I live with wonder and
"Have I been here?"


If I could age, I would cherish it.
If I could feel, I would stimulate it.
If I could sense, I'd perceive it.
If I had life, I'd live it.
If I had your beauty, humanity, I'd embrace it.
Imperfection. Perfection.
Let's face it,
Humanity, you're the most unattainable beauty.
And I realize, I'm just a ghost.


-The Ghost -