poetry notes

there's a poetry contest? maybe? money? maybe? doubt I'll get anything but it can't hurt to throw my poem in there right? maybe? who knows. But this is a rough draft of something I wrote, figured they'd appreciate a love poem more than the stuff I usually write so I tried my hardest (if anyone is interested: http://www.poetry.com/poetry-contests/ check it out):

If eyes could taste as sweet as yours,
I would never need to eat.
But could feast on sight of you,
a privilege to sit and stare.
Drinking you in.
Like a man parched for beauty, instead
filled with sight.
No equal earth angel, beauteous in my eye
beheld not for love but hope,
grace, wonder, a smile.
Synonyms to my eyes, a strange singularity.
Love does not create beauty.
We are but dragons, and our beauty creates love.
Jealousy spawns not from possession, but from loss,
a hoardless, mindless, beardless beast,
to wander alone, no glint or glitter

I want the world to know, not
of my happiness, but of that which creates it.
My beauty.
the sole sparkle in one half closed eye and barely recognized
with too much sleep.
Stare into mine, and find my hope, my troubles, my smile
not all of them are mine, but to give freely,
and envy not.
We cannot lose a beast so great,
but we can hide it in a cave,
send knights by day to slay it,
and mourn the charred remains of hate we find
crumpled on a carpeted floor somewhere in Brooklyn.

As simply as you cannot argue
logically with faith,
you cannot rationalize with any weight of heart.
Measure well that quality of dreams,
because you cannot consciously cheat Anubis
I cannot know what I must gather,
so instead I am forced to go pick on a forked road,
I will take neither path nor fork, but
sit.

until my head is full and belly empty
for want of thanks to give
I'll trade away my eyes
to keep my memories.

You mean that much to me, I can't explain
why because
I tell you sometimes
in the dark
and light and
cold.
You keep me warm,
you give me hope,
darling, looking in my eyes while I stare at you,
that sparkle dancing is from you, who already know.
You are the dreams worth having,
that make my eyes crinkle for smiling.
Thank you. You already know but read it one more time at least,
and let my naked letters dance across your eyelids when you need my voice,
and I have none.
I love you.

anonymous?

because the simple fact exists; that all we do in this world is die. What does that mean about the rest of us? What is the difference between me dieing and my brother dieing. What is the difference between my mom and my dad dieing. Would i be just as sad for both? would it be a different sadness. would it hit me in 5 years, like with my grandfather, when suddenly i realised who he was, and what he did. Would i be dry-eyed throughout the whole ordeal like my whole life, collapsing not in tears but in questions. Will i lose everything first? or will everything lose me? My thoughts often turn to death, as often as they turn to life. What is it all worth? do they equal out on the scales? if so does that make life not WORTH anything. not in a morbid sense, life is definately worth living, at least for a while, for the good parts and the bad, for the thrills and the kills, but does living in itself bring something into the world? or should it be our job to bring something more to the world that we're living in, before we cease to live in it.

people live in the world,
they leave it when they're exhausted.

Do most people hang onto life because they're afraid of death? that's ok. Who knows what it'll be like to know that you're dieing, will i want to keep living? or will i be resigned, or will i simply refuse to accept that this is the end. If i had the choice to save a kid for my own life, would i do it? yes. Would i instantly dive to pick him up in front of a truck? probably, would i be willing to sacrifice my life for the POSSIBILITY of saving someone else? that i cannot know. Does it matter if they're old? does saving someone who suffers a heart attack and dies the next day matter? or in that one day do they live out their life to the fullest extent possible. Is one day in one man's life equal to a hundred in someone elses? can we qualify life? death?

how can things shift so much that we change our opinions on elemental subjects.
I don't think that pondering the concept as well as the necessity of death is emo or morbid, but if i had a discussion with almost any teacher, i'm sure i would be recommended for therapy, which would teach me what? Therapy is possibly one of the most useless jobs i know for my generation. Either the kids are so fucked up, and all they really need is someone who they can trust, which is not necissarily someone who gets paid for the knowledge of fuck-ups that they've accrued, OR, the kid needs a serious change of environment, someone whose circumstances have driven their self-determination to near extinction. Almost every other category of "problem" kids are not affected by therapy, either refusing to let the therapist into their life, or lieing about things, or coming to false realizations, all number of difficulties can arise.

My ponderance must end, because my human body draws me back into the real world, and i'm fucking HUNGRY.