Self reflection

Others try to convince me of silly things,
when in reality I'm the one pulling their strings.
Manipulator of the human speech,
creator and destroyer of everything underneath.
I can't help myself put the pieces together,
this is why my influence will last forever.
What seems to most as me helping them,
in reality it is to see how far they will bend.
Selfishness is what is at the core of it all,
not care in the world not even when I fall.

Who

I've walked across the moon,
I've kissed Saturn's rings,
I've been across the world before you can even blink.

I'm the reason you enjoy your sight,
harnessing my power is your greatest fight,
this is why you have named me with the word "light".

12:00 AM

Midnight as you know it best,
closing in you as you want to rest,
the time before was just a test,
just to see if it would hurt your chest.

Looking now across the night,
the pain in your chest is getting tight,
on the rooftop sitting under the light,
thinking about the fruitless fight.

The ringing noise of the clock's chime,
hearing the sounds of the city's crimes,
half past one is now the time,
and this is the end of my rhyme.

Another year

Walking down the street,
thinking your own beat.
In anticipation of joy,
and thinking of being coy.
You walk past the door,
and your bag hits the floor.
Everyone was inside,
and they all yelled "Surprise"!

Rhetoric

Listen, listen, listen to these words,
let them captivate you like the rest of the world.
I have no proof on anything I say,
but the meaning in my speech will make you sway.
Destruction, mayhem, loss of wealth,
throwing more numbers at you than the population of this earth.
Convincing your mind letter by letter,
that nothing is fine and it's not going to get better.
Seeing you scrambling like little ants,
charging up and down the government's pants.
Yelling at them that they are failing,
and all the money is being used for bailing.
Excuses and proof start to meddle in,
then I come back with a brand new spin.
God has come to destroy this place,
starting across the ocean at a large pace.
Radiation is going to destroy us all,
I have your attention and I have the ball.
Again you scream and yell in fear,
and I sit in the corner drinking my beer.
I spread the virus of the human mind,
inserting false bits of information in due time.
I no longer need to show you more,
your actions suffice like some cheap whore.
Even if you find out who I am,
and word spreads that I'm a common man.
Too much time will have passed by then,
others like me will continue the action.
You'll never be able to stop the disease,
the human mind will follow what I please.

I wouldn't be here

Depression wouldn't have taken hold,
avoiding you pretending I had a cold.
Failing for 6 months by missing class,
remembering your voice and all that jazz.
Trying to reconnect from different tracks,
even after we parted from that huge fact.
Endless conversations about college life,
all of it over and done from such strife.
Remembering the moment I ruined it all,
that serious conversation was my downfall.
Telling you I cared for you was all I had to do,
by being patient and never leaving that room.

Don't breathe, live.

Close your eyes and really focus,
just think of this very moment.
Warp your surroundings with memories,
memories that are thought provoking.
Recalling faces from the past,
remembering when flags were at half mast.
Feeling forms of hate and love,
knowing then it was all in good fun.
Slowly now open your eyes,
you just went through your entire life.

Mind like a sponge

Silly, silly little child,
your curiosity makes you wild.
Emotions running at an irregular rate,
happy, sad, and angry right in my face.
I give you something to do and to play with,
it falls on the floor and you throw a fit.
Then something unexpected miraculously happens,
I grab everything from the bed especially the pens.
I make you lay down right next to me,
have you sleeping in minutes by watching TV.

The traveller

Waiting, wondering, reading on a bench
waiting for the bus that is coming next.
No set destination in particular for you,
pondering whether or not to learn Hebrew.
Marking where you've been on a map of the world,
pictures in your bag of villages and one of a girl.
Remembering last month you were swimming in a lake,
a few days later up a mountain eating a steak.
Sharing drinks with a friend on Russian soil,
drinking green tea that was brought to a boil.
Crossing the sea in a gargantuan boat,
walking an elevated expansive road.
Riding an elephant with colorful clothes,
snake charmer on the street with a bowl.
Grabbing some ale at a local pub,
staying in the city bathing in a tub.
Riding in the clouds across the ocean,
landing on ground without much motion.
Back to the bench where you are at,
glance sideways to see a man who just sat.
You grab the picture of that one girl,
the reason why you came from around the world.

Dent of My Life

Imagining a world without someone like me,
that kind of thing would change a lot of things.
The people I know and care about the most,
this kind of thought is not something to boast.
Would everyone I know be exactly the same?
People I've helped would they be sane?
I'd like to think even I wasn't around for them,
they would all have a life that was over a ten.
At the end of it all I just want to know one thing,
whether or not my soon to be nephew will be a king.

From Aguadilla With Love

The garden of the Atlantic is what's this place,
the people, the music, the much wanted taste.
Access to the ocean is an easy feat,
where you live will never have me beat.
With that description I really need to go,
have to head to theater and watch the show.

Definition

An outlet of sorts for uncontrolled emotion,
writing words reflecting an untouchable ocean.
Information in it's rawest and purest form,
miraculous and beautiful like a baby born.
This is the truth of my inner untamable soul,
passing through my speech to reach my toll.
Speaking my mind is not so much worth,
that is why I write such nice sounding words.

Circumstances

Feeling trapped within yourself without release.
Not knowing where he should be.
Thinking about the future has no point.
The joy of expectation is just filling the void.
What to do with this crazy life.
Restarting it all from left to right.
The need for solitude becomes clear.
The thoughts of someone he cannot be near.
The objectiveness of life is no longer true.
The feeling of pain fills the room.
The circle of friends that fill this wreath.
Not knowing where he should be.