Why and I,

two simple words.

One asks the question,

the other about the self.

For years I would ask why,

why am I here,

what purpose do I have?

Will I do good things?

Be someone?

Will I be alone and lonely?

Will I be hated?

Why do we think these things?

Why not something more cheerful,

less restricting to one's heart and soul?

Even now,

I ask the same questions,

to air, to space,

never getting a response;

so what's the point?

Suddenly it dawned on me,

for the answer is with me,

has been from the beginning.

Why am I here?

Because it was meant to be that way.

Whatever trivial pursuits,

whatever dogged trials I live through,

whatever successes I encounter,

through all the hoops and twists;

it was meant to be that way.

And why is my acronym for:

"what happened yesterday"

is my every day reply to history,

for yesterday is gone,

and I cannot live life based on the past.

Then there is today,

where I start again.

Not to find answers,

but to live with what I know,

and one day die, taking all that with me.

To speak the truth, my truth and nothing but the truth.

To impart wisdom, knowledge and a double dose of hope.

To flaunt my flaws and humbly show there is life after love.

To learn and grow from all here, that which has evaded me.

To see the world through other’s eyes so as not to go blind.

You'll be

my Reality

...I your 

Fantasy

smile every

dream and

nonbirthday

is indeed

the present

unraveling

...we'll grow

taunt as yarn

and even live

to thread and 

pass it along

....a yawn

that coils

and pulls

and glows

neon...

in concert

with no

apparent 

sound or

reason...

the same

grasp that

hoists the

balloon

lowers our

casket too

....so life

albeit brief

may be

very full

Answering this riddle,

is not that simple.

But, let me just say,

why I am here today.

I am here—

amongst other souls,

to ponder and wander,

to remind myself that

I am not alone, any longer.

I am here—

to immense in my own rainfall tears—

to unload the heavy weights

off my shoulders,

and fly into the sky,

without any fears.

I am here—

to pour words into my ears,

to silence the lonely voices

pounding inside my skull—

to burn my soul with fire,

to splatter the canvases with hues,

wherever my brush strokes may fall.

I am here—

having no expectations.

yet, to maze in the wilderness

and vast open oceans

of brilliant imaginations.

That and more...

that’s why I am here,

to breathe the fresh air

freely, but never in fear.

Why am I here

In the space between your back

and the door

I should’ve ran

I should’ve said something

But words are a complicated beast I cannot seem to tame

They can be my best friend

Or my worst enemy

Words are the blade that cuts through my skin until I am nothing but bones and sorrow

Words are the reason why I am here in the first place

You said I talk too much

That my mouth makes words

you were never ready to listen

That my breathing is too much for you now

So you cut me open

You tie my hands

And you sew my mouth shut

You take my words with you

It’s no wonder some days I bleed

And others I seize to exist altogether.

~renata ferretti {r.f}

He tried. He sought to touch

Each argent star with vision vibrant

He tried, but not too much

For to himself he never turned a tyrant

He sought to comprehend

To see the Man's compassion through

Despite its twists and bends,

'Twas still the only road he knew

He wanted to be good

As modern justice would allow

(Yet noticed that it would

Be never good enough, somehow)

He wanted pen and ink

To marry thought and word together

Beyond all else, I think,

He sought to be in time remembered

Words form in your mouth and I speak them with my lips.

Thoughts come from your mind and I see them with my eyes.

I feel you even though we never touch.

I hear you even though I sit alone.

You hear me when you speak the words I’ve written.

You give voice to things I don’t say to anyone else.

The familiarity of loneliness seems out of place in a world so full of people.

Yet it is only when I am alone with you and my words that I don’t feel alone.

I give you little pieces and you give little pieces in return.

I come here because it feels like coming home.

Why am I here?

That’s the question

That plagues my ear

I let it in

A fleeting fear

That only I alone

Can hear

Time runs out.

An empty spout

A sputtering

Uttering

Muttering doubt

Begins to shout

“You are what you write!”

That’s the plight

That I take to black ink

to the paper so white

I keep going

Just knowing

That nothing is right

I’m only words.

Meaningless words

Cut my thoughts

Into thirds

Until I am the soul

That is left

I’m bereft

This is a comfort to me.

So I fight it

The darkness

I light it

The spark is

This sentence

This page

Mind is bent

In a rage

Until I get it all out

The part that’s the hardest

The inner catharsis

That keeps me alive

Long enough to write

Another line.

The words replace loneliest tears

And that, I think’s why I am here.

@demcmurphy

This is where I am meant to be,

the place that needs me most.

Or is it that I need this place?

Whichever, it’s my life’s post.

To mix and linger with these souls,

Whose paths have crossed with mine.

Tis the destiny awarded me,

Or perhaps it is the fine.

Has an act of Karma been at work?

To fulfil good deeds of past.

Or the execution of ill intent,

This life’s rebirth, the last?

No matter, I’m here and I belong,

to teach, learn and connect.

My purpose will show itself,

in my profound and simple affect.

@demcmurphy