I Will Live Forever (poetry)

flowers bloom

pick them they wilt

there is nothing left to give

of those beautiful things

known to be true­­­


our lives are ahead of us

our lives are ahead of us

our lives are ahead of us

squander youth

squander today

squander this moment

our lives are ahead of us

forever young

the canvas of life ahead of us

the future forever ahead of us

squander this moment

squander today

we’ve earned a break

our lives are ahead of us

don’t dare look in the mirror

don’t dare notice youth fading

when did it become okay to live a normal life

when did passion become expendable

are lives ahead of us

our lives ahead of us

another night slipped away

another night that didn’t mean anything

our lives ahead of us

are lives ahead of us


life begins with no confusion

clear sighted, far sighted

dreams just steps away

life as a dream

perfection as attainable

remember how you used to be

words raining from your mouth

their holiness unnoticed

the fragrance of poetry from every sparkle of the eye

life as a dream

dreams just steps away

is that really how we thought?

is that really who we were?

when did the fountain run dry?

when did we lose the ability to speak

when did we forget,

all of the poetry of the world

is it still there, all around us?

was it ever even there?


trying again

trying harder

starting again

starting harder

say what it is

say what it really is

make the words bend to emotion

let them lose the staleness of reality

let them be imbued with magic, grace


let them be imbued with the way the world truly is

a metaphor for the needed spiritual awakening

the continuous river from the bubbling start

through the rapids, meanders, forks,

till then, again, to meet the sea

touching those pretty waterfalls of its youth

just the once

flowing through every bend

just the once

man, us, you, me

these same hands that used to hold a rattle,

now working to buy a rattle,

these same legs once walked these same streets

with people who aren’t here, not as they were

the memories don’t fade

that all happened didn’t it?

does a river remember,

running over every stone

a joke unthought of until that one little moment

and if that moment didn’t happen? That joke? Would it still exist?

how sweet a memory

only after it’s repetition becomes impossible,

only after the memory leaves us,

nothing but a faint imprint that once, something happened

and it was a part of us

but what was it again? was it beautiful?

we simply rush downstream

we rush back to the sea

we spend our one life rushing towards an end

with no real knowledge of why we go there

with no real knowledge if we have to go there


why do we live as lies?

why aren’t we living how we know is right?

ignoring those things that call after our hearts,

that chase our waking minds

whose spirit lives in the closed garden of our structured self perception

why are we convinced that dreams belong just to idle fantasy

truth is our only reality

yet, we give it willingly to benevolent thieves

we allow the false imposition of someone else’s dreams

we do not trust our own hearts to guide us,

we do not trust our own definition of happiness to sate us

we bow to the whims of reality

we walk in a line that was set for us

with no question of climbing the vistas that are on every side

with no question of stopping and stopping and wondering at it all

we walk in a line that we have locked ourselves to

we are scared of our own reality

we are too lazy to chase our own reality

how dare we? how dare we squander precious life?

the only thing worth chasing

the only thing worth trying for

self honesty in every moment

immolate life to a deity greater then judgmental eyes


try, and perhaps fail

try, and perhaps be mocked

try to carve at inner perfection with imperfect tools

there is no true way to create that monolith in your mind

so be it

do not be afraid

create your imperfection

in an imperfect world

an imperfect attempt at chasing perfection

may be the closest we have to perfection

and an honest attempt at obeying the truth in your heart

may be the closest thing to a perfect life

in an imperfect world

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