"Feeling" the World

The art and purity of empathy resides in the will to feel others. Not only do we look for an answer to their problems we purposely let ourselves feel their emotions to do so. Many say only certain people are "gifted" with such intese emotional abilities. But I feel everyone can acheive a status of an empath. Open yourself to people and become vulnerable. In turn they will open up to you and the road to healing can begin.

Empath's Touch

Leaving your tears

In the tissue on the

Floor.

No one hears

Your pleas for

Some sense of sanity.

Adapting to the

Emotions of everyone

But your own.

Not the way

It was

Meant to be?

Sure it was.

Gift by day,

Horror by night.

Living a life

Without compensation,

And dealing with

Each moment

As it comes.

You are not alone.

---Justin Beebe

Testimony of an Empath

Inspired by and written in honor of myself and Justin...





The two who truely feel the joy, the happiness, the suffering and the lies.


Testimony of a Teenage Empath
And oh,
How she weeps for their painful woes.
She kneels to pray for the lost love of those,
And prays for they, the aching,
To feel the joy she rarely picks up on.
Pounding on the ground are the tears from her eyes.
Loudly she cries,
Screaming to the skies,
For her defenseless heart is breaking
From the pain she feels inside.
This curse is her gift from an entity unknown,
To feel for those around her,
Even if she’s all alone.
Sobs of suffering escape her lips
As once again she is hit
With the unending aguish.
So much pain in the world,
And oh so little to rejoice.
Though, she’ll push on
Trying to find her numbed emotions,
Yet, there’s only so much her heart can contain.

She's lost me

Here is a love poem to follow with Justin's theme. Of course, this one was written in the past. It's about an ex girlfriend, written while I was on an intensly emotional rollercoaster. It's pretty self explanitory.

She’s Lost Me

She’s given up on her.
Though she’ll never know the pain.
All the ways she tore her heart,
Eyeing her with such disdain.

That broken girl,
She’s falling deeper.
Loosing all her feelings,
To her own grim reaper.

Years it’ll last,
And she'll never know how much her heart really bled.
She’ll never see her one true love,
Is hanging by a thread.

Love floating....

Once again with love as a medium we search as far as our hearts can go for poetry. We can search all our lives to live out love...but search for a few hours, minutes even, to write out love.

Running from the Moon



Can’t feel my fingers now
As you’ve numbed us all.
Blinded as you are
I’ve still got your hand.


Tears sliding down
Your face,
Not far from
Where I am.


Together we will
Search this place,
Look for a refuge,
For a sanctuary.
In this dark
We’ll find the hidden light.


Sand touching our feet
As we look around
Finding the beckoning dark.
We’ll run,
We’ll run to our paradise.


To where we can rest,
Where I am yours
And you are mine.
To where we can be
Completely in love
And keep the rest at bay.


So let the waves
Come crashing in,
Wash away our sand,
For we are forever running,
My hand in yours
And yours in mine.
Together
We bear it all.

Pain and Forgotten

What do we do when a loved one dies? Do we cry till we can't cry anymore? Do we cave within ourselves so we can't feel the pain? Here is one example.....

Just Enough

I’m on the edge of your bed
As your tears drop,
Each larger than
The last
As they roll down your pillow.


Just barely touching you
As your hands pass
Through my heart,
And you pray for
A shoulder I cannot offer.


A memory to others
I’ve become,
A personal pain to you
I remain
As you continue to die within.


You yell to the sky
Why they had to take me,
As I stand behind you
Caressing your spirit’s
Unrelenting agony.


Never as far as you feel,
Living in your heat and mind
As my lips touch your forehead,
But the feeling isn’t there.
There’s nothing to feel now.


The world population dropped
One number today,
But inside you it has
Dropped two.
As much as this seems unfair,
I live within you.


You curse the stars
For making me beak my promise.
The promise to be there forever,
For you.
But in this sense
I have not left you.


I may be hugging you
While you silently cry
In bed,
And as I promised you,
I am here forever
And always.

----By Justin Beebe

My challenge, my pain

So here was my challenge. I was supposed to write a poem from one of my cousin Carly's GORGEOUS sketches of a random girl. The poem started out as the girl in the drawing but by the end it felt more like me than anything..it was draining to write, surprisingly. I had to use past people and events in my life as well as things that would have happened to the girl in the pic if she was real to get this much emotion. =\

The Darkest Pain

Truly disconnected,
She’s withdrawn from the world.

She’s the typical American girl,
Fantasized by many,
Loved by few.
Selling herself short,
She’s throwing out her heart.

No,
She’s giving it out.
She’s handing it to passers-by.
Hoping that she’ll spark their interest,
Hoping to cross their minds.

Though,
She never will.
She’ll keep handing out the pieces
While her broken soul searches for
Her lost and tattered love, evermore.

They’ll keep driving by,
Seeing her stroll along her lonely crowded corners,
Watching her strut for hoots and hollers.

Though all she really wants is someone
Who truly sees.
Someone who will break her down into
The Juliet she knows she’s meant to be.

Angst of my own...

When it comes to angst, many people don't even understand what it entails. This includes myself. But as I've learned, it has more to do with anger and depression than I thought it did.

Masquerade

In love with your words,

But you still

Have yet to remove

Your mask.

And yet I speak

To quickly.

Slandering my eyes

As I cut out the sun.

Buried beneath

This plastic.

Holes for my

Breathing, but I

Cannot filter out

My cunningness.

Elastic strapped

Behind your scalp.

And I feel mine as well.

Finally tearing off our defence,

The world throws a grenade.

---By Justin Beebe

That is one of my newer poems. So I hope it's ok. I tried a different style then I usually do, but it's still free verse. But I continure my journey to entertain you with my writing and my road to find myself.

Hobey-ho. Let's go.

Natural Teen Angst

So here I go again. On to rant and ramble about something completely rediculous, though not able to get any of the words out.

Typical.

Here's a poem I wrote about my bio-mom. (Thats my biological mom, if you couldn't catch on.) We do not talk on a regular basis and I can't stand anything about her. I think I have that right, considering our past. That's a whole other story that I wont get into right now.

So yeah, here it is.

We’ll never be you
Hypocrites and liars,
Selling all the same.
Claim your crazy alibis,
Though our verdict stays the same.
Angry and cruel,
As though you’re in command.
Those painful words so brutal,
Almost as if planned.
We scream to the world now,
The tales of our miserable souls.
We’re growing very cold now,
As we almost reach our goals.
Living through our tell-tale-lives,
We’ve learned a thing or two.
The most important thing of all
Is to never be like you.

Knocking Down A Peg

To continue Ali's theme here, I have a poem that I just wrote out of a depressed-like mood. It kind of knocks me down a few notches when I read it. But it's just a sad poem.

Pedistal

Always a stone

When it counts,

But now like glass

Meeting the edge of a blade,

Watching my smile

Crack like an egg.

I've become an ice sulpture

Placed in the sun

While I watch it all

Melt down.

Emotions slowly draining

As more tears

Exit my eyes

And life spirals down.

I hit the floor,

And smash.

---By Justin Beebe

I guess I'll start the next

This post is just random. It's to have the reader identify with the writers feeings and emotions. This poem is a reflection, on my part, to have myself look at how foolish and blind I was in the past.

This is a reminder to myself and to every one else in the world to not let yourself be blinded by psuedo-love.

Healing hearts and Broken needs

Here I am again,
hardly loved and oh so lonely.
It's the truth,
you know you're my one and only.

How could you do this?
Claw at my heart until I bleed.
Make me numb,
You're the only one I need.

These scars,
they tell a story.
They show all the hate
you give to me.

And all I ever wanted
was to be loved by you.
You're the only one
I need to matter to.




Peace&Love
Marza

So here's the way it goes

Unlike my friend Justin, I'm not a great writer. Deadlines and guidelines have never been two words I've liked to associate with my writing. To me, the words should just come to you. There's no use in writing if it's not from the heart.
Writing is emotion. It's conflict and pain. It is love and commitment. If you write because you are told to, there is little or no true feeling in it. That is why I won't be posting a poem in response to Justin's post below.
My writing is mostly written during the hard or emotional times in my life. Every once in a while there is a love poem thrown in there, but usually my poetry is dark and dreary. I can't normally produce a poem out of thin air, and if I do, it's usually not that good. If I have a poem that corresponds with Justin's post, i'll post it. If not, I'll try my best to work on one and post it. =]

So until my next post, i'll be saying Adios! <33

Peace&Love
Marza

On the Homefront

When we think about poetry sometimes it really relates to our lives. Some poetry is made to imapct us on a personal level or give us a sense of understanding of the feelings of others. We never really think about how another person is feeling until we can see them in a different mood or if we genuinely care about them. But sometimes we dare to wonder, "What would it be like if that happened to me?"

Eve Condolences



At the darkest hour
When the craven moon
Gazes upon the
Tortured Earth.


Unsettled and
Apocalyptic
We have made
These fields.


Blade scratching
Against the dusty floor
As I pray to the stars
For my brothers.


Lantern in hand,
Rain splashing
Beneath my feet,
And I take this mockery.


The shadows give
Pessimistic grins
That diverts me
From my course.
And I cry.


Not for the sake
Of myself,
Not for the void
I can feel around me.
They are tears for her.


That I may destroy
Her world,
Sap her happiness
And leave her dry.
Nothing but longing and despair.


For none of us men,
And wives,
And parents,
And children,
Long to hear
The fated news.


That your loved one
Won’t be home for supper,
Or the Christmas of yet,
And the happiness of that morn’.


For the black cloud
Desolating the air
Speaks its words
Of sorrow.


And you will not see
Your husband,
Your father,
Your son,
On these nights.


The bedtime darkness
Played and meddled
Whilst they slept,
And the morning fire
Was nothing but ash.

-By Justin Beebe

He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise. ~Oscar Wilde

A little more love to go around

Love is indescribable. There is no synonym that describes love perfectly. It is a great and an overwhelming feeling. Often times, people make mistakes in the name of love. Others, not so much. Some accept love from every source within reach. While others, reject it. In short, they run.

Poetry about love is the authors way of getting the reader to feel the love within and help them understand how amazing this feeling really can be. Open your hearts, don't think, just feel the words surround you...

just listen.


Lower your fire and watch those walls crumble


It’s how he perceives her
That scares her so.
It’s how he sees light through her darkness
That frightens her soul.

Cautious and wise,
She’s not expecting much at all.
Regardless of past heartbreak,
He’s breaking down her walls.

Slowly but surely,
As fingers become laced.
A long forgotten smile
Spreads across her face.

He knows what he’s doing,
She’s lowering her shields.
Anti-cupid has seized fire,
Maybe love is near.

She trying hard to trust this,
Her hands though, are shaking.
He’s staring into her eyes.
She’s his for the taking.

Love and Poetry

When we think of love we never really can grasp its full nature in our hands. We are always searching harder and deeper into our souls and the souls of others. Hopefully with a few love poems we can make that journey to understanding love a bit shorter.


This is a brand new poem I just wrote. Hope you like it.

Living Dreamscape



Like the first winter’s snow
You’re one of the last perfect things
This world seems to have to offer.


Pins shoved into me
And you help me pull them out,
Bricks strapped to my feet
And you cut me loose.


Nothing set in stone,
Still molding the friendship
Like an incomplete project,
But finding the supplies running thin.


Deepen the reason,
Build on the want,
Skating on thin ice
And we steer each other from the cracks.


Not the obvious love,
But only dreams can tell
Who can produce such a key
And break the shackles I bear.


Hold you while you cry
While I sob on my grief,
And together we withstand
The prolonging sunrise.

-By Justin Beebe

"The true poet is all the time a visionary and whether with friends or not, as much alone as a man on his death bed." ~W.B. Yeats

These Threads

The thinnest threads,
Forming one gorgeous being lying next to me.
Tying tighter,
Melding as one like our entangled legs.
Conjoining at all of the ends,
Knotting together like the fingers on our hands.
We’re weaving the story of our lives,
Frayed threads indicating our lies.
Strong and dark,
Knitting the colors in your eyes.
We’re left with no disguise.
And now we lay here,
Watching the sun rise.
I’m begging you,
Don’t go wasting my time.
These threads are wearing thin,
Baby please, be mine.

First of Many

My first poem to reveal is one my friends tell me is my best work.


I like to write sad and also romantic poetry. I am also a free style writer and love to write in free verse.


Ali always wonders why I can write so well and I always tell her I don't feel that I do. But you be the judge.

Reborn



Two A.M. and the sun is still setting,
Streaked red
While singing blue ribbons,
Punctured with gold in its corners.


Ashes to dust in the wind
As we blow away with our confessions,
While we are let down
Blaming no one but us.


Pale decisions
Becoming nothing more than atrophic
As shivering bones
Hit the wall.


The moon strikes the hour of six
And we are the phoenix
Of our undying birthday.

- By Justin Beebe

"A poet can survive everything but a misprint." ~Oscar Wilde

There's a first time for everything

I am a first time blogger. My friend Justin, on the other hand is not new at this. He and I are co-blogging here to release our thoughts and hearts. We are still in highschool and are just trying to find ourselves through the soul in our poetry.

We write to feel.
We write to live.
We write to be.





"Writing should set you free." -Mike Kearney (My English 2 CP teacher)

Not a legend, but not a first timer.

We are writers.

Nothing to hard to understand. We speak with our pens and white out, pencils and erasers, keys and the backspace button. We are no new players to the game of words and we've been around the block a few times. But neither are we award winners, book writers, and guaranteed success stories.

We are just two friends, still in high school, who have a passion to write. Nothing we can say can match what we can tell you through our writings.

Her and I are entrepreneurs in the field of creativity and hope to thrive in the sentences and stanzas we conjure. Hopefully we make an impression upon you and give you something to think about at the end of the day.

These are our stories, our lives....our dreams.