Faces

The look is clear upon the faces
Masked, shielded from the world
Protection from words hurled

The illusion becomes the truth
Forgotten is who they were
A stranger trapped in a mirror

Misguided wandering souls
Becoming the roles they play
Becoming more lost every day

Stoic Poetry

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The Struggle

The “Look at Me” crowd rails,
Clicks equate to self worth,
Validation now means everything

Without substance, no value
Appearances of a perfect life
Their own praises they sing

In darkness words are written
Words that may be never read
Caring not the fame they bring

The writer pulls from his soul,
Sharing thoughts; his alone
They remain, lyrics no one can sing

Stoic Poetry  

Realization

I am me, I will always be
From the cradle to the grave
I may make some changes
As the world demands of me

Into shapes that never fit
Just to see a single smile
Is being dishonest, or worse
But I can bear it for a little bit

True nature is all we are
Trust in which we are born
Games only color the truth
Pretending only goes so far

Stoic Poetry

No One Can Explain

They say they know
Maybe they really do
But when they explain
Something is always lost
Between me and you

Experience is personal
It is one of a kind
In the simple telling
Words cannot convey
A truth you may find

There are many teachers
Who promise true reality
They share the words
Promises of awakening
Yet we remain in duality

Stoic Poetry

Talk

We talk, and we talk
While nothing gets done
The steamroller of dreams
Flattening any that rise

No aberration, no ripples
Levelled and boring
Fitting a mold they made
No matter how hard we try

But we must always try
The very best that we can
Because I have to believe
There is a forgotten plan

Stoic Poetry

Without Substance

Don’t be alone in a world
Filled with make belief
Lies that we tell ourselves
Looking for some relief

Following is for fools
Traveling without a map
Stumbling behind the crowd
Always trying to fill a gap

Unique, in a beautiful way
Forging a path on our own
Let them follow the rest
We will find our own way home

Stoic Poetry

Tarmac Dreams

From elemental rock, thirty thousand feet above

We have risen, so absurd the dream

Earth to metal, metal to wings

We ride, if not the winds, we forge ahead

The dream forgotten, the reality accepted

The runway falling away reveals the blackened arteries that feed this place of displaced people, in transit, homeless for the time being, often where home is has been forgotten

Stoic Poetry

Invisible

There’s a place out there you can go to
And you will, if you listen I can show you
I’ll get to know you
Because we go through
The same things in the world
You will see that it’s true

You know everybody loses
And everybody bruises too
It’s very real
No matter what you’re doing
Everybody else feels it too

Because I know what it means to
Break down, no sign of relief
You can’t breathe
Because all that pressure and pain
No one understands
And I can’t explain

Stoic Poetry