Always some reason in madness

today i sit and ponder
i’ve reached farther than i ever dreamed possible,
a time when i thought life was over
only to start afresh at the stroke of dawn;

bound by the unknown,
i would break the shackles if i can
just to go back to where it all began
and rewrite the script with my own plan;

trapped in a mire of reality
words are all i have
and words are all that i have
to express my innermost desires;

there are days when i stand and watch
hoping to see myself as someone else
and i long for this mirrored perspective
to become a reality, one day;

reality is nothing but a formality,
creeping into myself and strangling my senses
Not withstanding my screams
all I am left is tears in streams;

sometimes there is a window of hope
that all is not lost after all
when words are emptied and passion remains rare
And you look back more than forward
Comes this angel!

like the children behind the piper,
to an unseen high of a meditative state
i start looking foward
from nothng to say to
no language to express
there is always some madness in love
but there is also always some reason in madness;

Read more: http://www.poetryoflife.com/#ixzz0gadsRC41

The Teenager who proweled old books

That Teenager Who Prowled Old Books

That teenager who prowled old books to find
Any argument with a whiff of the Holy Ghost—
I meet him again in his marginalia,
Which ignored the human sweat and stink and marked
Those passages that confirmed what he was hunting.
There was the milk white hart of evidence.
There was the hound of heaven, italicized bold,
Like an angry footnote chasing it off the page.
And there were the hunters, in pursuit themselves—
Plato, Lucretius, Virgil, Marcus Aurelius—
Who did not know he knew what they were after.
And so he missed a lot, all of it human,
Even while scribbling black and blue Eurekas!,
Bleeding through pages backwards—irrelevant notes.
It was all about something else, which he didn’t see,
As philosophers mounted their lovers from behind
And felt their limbs go dead from the toes upward,
And poets kissed a mouth that fastened tight
And locked tongues and tried to catch their breath.

" It better to be HATED for what you are than to be LOVED for what you are not"

just added some dancehall videos to enjoy

watch and enjoy dis vybz kartel videos