It’s just a prank…

via Daily Prompt: Joke

 

It’s just a prank bro,
Whatchu think you know?
Said I’m sorry. Honest,
Thought I’d caught you at your best.
Didn’t mean to make you feel
That way; with me, that’s the deal.
Make others deal
With the pain I’ve yet to feel.
Hide behind the face
Of a joke, a ploy, a mask.
Sorry if I forget to ask,
But I need you
To react like you never really knew.
That’s not always the case,
But agenda: religion, love, and race
Is the new reason
To exist. Comes round like seasons.
New reason. Old news.
Not for us to choose
Where or why,
Yet I
Know your fear,
Know the year,
Know the tear
You shed alone.
What you’d thought you’d outgrown
Is only the beginning
Of the abuse,
The misuse,
The shame,
The game
We all love within,
Which is to win.
The jokes on me;
It’s easy enough to see,
But I’ve taken
You with me. I’ve forsaken
Us both, so I’ve won.
Relax. It’s all done.
It’s only a prank. Only a game.
In the end it’s all just the same.
We all walk fallen.
Us pranksters go all in.
Don’t expect justice.
It’s just us.
The beginning and end.
No one will send.
Your one,
Under the endless sun.
Relax. Please. Enough.
Look. Life’s tough.
Cry all you want.
You’re the one I’ll flaunt.
Get over it. Your ships sank.
For God’s sake, it’s just a prank?!

These Words:

These words
Have been written:
Traced
In the sand,
Carved in the
Mountain, carried
Through the wind.
They were
Thought,
Discovered,
Delivered.
These words
Are an
Extension of control.
Our control.
These words were
Written.
These words we hold too.
These words were fated
To find us.
These words are
Written in the Earth.
The heart.
The essence.
These words are
Everywhere, and nowhere.
They’ve all been written.
Waiting to be discovered.
Waiting to be realized,
By us.
Where these words go
We cannot say.
Where they come,
We cannot know.
We know each day
We choose a page.
We choose the way.
Carve sentences from the
Earth, the sand, the wind.
We are
The pages
Of the words
We’ve created for ourselves.
These words are
Common.
Unique only
In context.
Our context.
Our explanation.
Looking for meaning.
Until the words
Make sentences,
And those into
Chapters,
And although we
We couldn’t be
Anymore different,
We’ll all share the words:
The end.

Library of Babel:

This post, I admit, is beyond me. Far, far, beyond me. Incomprehensible is simply not enough to describe the scale of what’s called “The Library of Babel.” Included in this library are all combinations of letters ever hoped to be arranged with basic punctuation. Think about that for a moment. Every, and oh do I mean every, letter combination within 3200 characters. Let me briefly explain before I send you off to try this for yourself because no amount of me typing away will be as exciting as going to the website itself.

Every combination. Words that have not been created yet are in this library. Every sentence you have ever said, or ever will say, is in this library. The words your mother spoke when you were born are cataloged within this library. The words that will be spoken at your funeral are kept somewhere in the library of babel. Every great work of Shakespeare, every blog post I’ve ever written, everything.

Of course, this is isn’t to say it can predict the future, it’s only to say, that every possibility of future things to be said, or spoken, or considered in one’s own mind are there just waiting to be discovered.

Here’s the link:

Once in the website, go to search and type in anything you can think of: famous quotes, random gibberish, it really doesn’t matter whatsoever. It will be there, always, like some sort of muse, but truly it couldn’t be tied anymore closely to reality.

 

 

Letter to myself:

I’m sorry.
Sorry for
Even trying.
Sorry for
Thinking that
I had
A chance.
Sorry for
Hoping in
Advance that
My dreams
Could happen.
Sorry I
Let you
Down again.
Sorry for
The doubt.
Sorry for
Being sorry.
Sorry that
I’m not
Sorry enough.
Sorry if
This hurts,
If it
Reminds you,
If this
Makes you
Rethink yourself.
Sorry for
All the
Disappointment, all
The words
I should
Have written,
All the
Unfulfilled hope.
It wasn’t
My intention
To make
You feel
This way,
I just
Thought that
It would
Make you
Happy, and
Proud, and
Reaffirm that
Passion within.
But it
Hasn’t. It
Feels broken,
And I
Said that
I was sorry.
I guess
It was
One step
Too far
To believe…

In response to:

Apology

Look past me:

Look past me
Like you’ve done,
Like I’m invisible,
Like you’ve forgotten
All about me.
Pay no notice
To the time,
The place,the
Mood we shared;
It’s often so
Clear that you
Never once cared,
Or considered anything
Beyond the surface,
As if I
Were erasable, a
Scratch off ticket,
A sunset never
Meant to rise
Again. I write
This knowing you’ll
Never see it,
And, if you
Do, never knowing
It was these
Words that were
Volleyed at you.
There you’ll sit
Not knowing the
Pain you’ve caused,
Counting each three
Word set like
A trinity, feeling
The gravity rising,
Reeling as the
Guilt is buried
Where you’re blackened
Heart still hides
As a coward.
You’ll look past
All of this,
Like you’ve looked
Past me so
Many times before.
You’ll revel in
The excuses you’ve
Made for yourself,
And look past
The sinking reality,
Which is your
Shattered and unbearably
Altered conscience. Morality
Is forever unquestioned.
The past is
Incessantly at the
Forefront of decisions.
Time is always
Stopped in the
Warped perception of
Your selfish reasoning.
Look past me.
Search for what
You’ll never find,
What you ungratefully
Get the second
Chance to fulfill,
And how it
Has all come
To be. Undoubtedly
You’ll see yourself
Standing snark, headlong,
And falsely righteous.
So go on.
I’ve accepted everything.
Go live free
From any worry,
Or regret, or
Sense of remorse.
Some part of
Me waits in
Those dark parts
Of the past;
A part of
Me stolen and
Cast like a
Sickly triumphant memorial
Of the scars
I’ve left behind.
A part of
Me waits in
Those dark woods
That I wandered
So often afraid.
You’ll look past
Me. Living the
Lie you’ve always
Kept artificially close.
That part of
Me left behind
Will stay there.
Waiting for the
Apology it knows
It will never
Receive.