Am I Ready For Love?

G!

Nowadays love is
Described as 'cute', yet
Is it not also supposed
To be profound and
Meaningful?
Cheers to you who
Thinks love is 'Cute', but
I am not looking for
Cuteness, and that is why
I am not ready for
Love.

A chaste life is no
Longer the pursuit of
Young men, yet that is
What I believe. Love is
More than cute, it is
Transcendental, true,
And final.

Am I ready for the
Final decision? Am I
Ready for commitment? Am
I ready for love? Alas I
Am not, if I swear by
These questions I ponder;
I still stand alone.

I am first and
Foremost enamored
By myself above all
Others. You think you're
Selfish; I am truly selfishness.
I belong to me, not
Us both.

If affection makes you
Happy, I will give you all
That I'm willing, but
Be aware of my limits to
Give, for I am yet a true
Gentleman, I am yet a true
Giver, and I am yet truly
Ready for love.

You have my affections
Only for the present,
Not for the future.

The Truth Above All

One of my favorite
Songs - that still retains
Lyrics - is Dan Hill's
Sometimes When We Touch.
From the first verse it goes:
'I'd rather hurt you
Honestly, than mislead you
With a lie.' How true.
Love songs are pleasant when
They do not apply to
You, and they're damn
Awkward when they do.
Let it be an awkward
Confession then, that
I am no one to judge your
Faults, if it matters to you.
I treat you by my truth,
I only hope you treat me by
Yours in return, and no
Trust is breached.
We are yet too young to
Overcome the pride and
Identity that defines us, and
We need not force change.
Either way, there is the best
To be found in each other
And the best is what my
Truth compels me to seek.
There is nothing to for-
Give, and no transgression
To answer for.
We all believe in a
Difference truth; for me
It's the truth above all.

Untitled

G!

I have once mused that
I, and people everywhere,
We believe in God, because
There is nothing else to
Believe in.
Little did I know of
The truth in that statement
Until I realize now that
I have placed faith in a
Lesser thing.
I have lost all faith
In the education system,
Which I should say comes
As a surprise to nobody, or
Should it?
I am sick of doing
Things I don't want to do,
Listening to people who
Have no real qualification to
Judge me.
So why am I a
Yet a slave to this careless,
Indifferent bureaucracy
To which I am a sequence
Of numbers?
Once a loyal servant,
Now I see the master's
True form, and what do I
Do but feel very, hopelessly
Powerless?
I remain inscribed,
Indentured by a system
That retains me and
Cares not about my
Well-being.
I have lost all faith
In homework and
Assignments, and these
Meaningless digits they
Call grades.
I once believed I
Could leave this trap with
All I could take; instead,
It has taken everything
From me.

Untitled

G!

Why do I stare?

Sometimes I
Ask that question myself.

Perhaps I am
Transfixed by something incredible
And no words are
Necessary or sufficient to
Detail what I see.

Perhaps I am
Bored and does it on purpose
To make other people
Uncomfortable under
My glassy gaze.

Perhaps I am
Trying to communicate with your
Mind telepathically.

Perhaps I am
Disillusioned and haven't a care
To look away.

Perhaps no reason.

Perhaps I see
In your eyes what I find
Nowhere else, after
All, you do have
Beautiful eyes.

Whatever my reason, know
This: I stare to see, not to
Look; to observe, not to
demand.

I may be terrible at
Breaking silences, but in those
Silences, I simply sit
Back and stare.

Tell Me What It's Like...

by G!

Tell me what it's like to be in love;
I'll tell you what it's like get a taste of love
And then have the feeling dissolve away.

Tell me what it's like to love another;
I'll tell you what it's like to love yourself.

Tell me how far you want to go;
I'll tell you about the oath of celibacy I swore
To a God you don't believe in.

Tell me what's it like to experience change;
I'll tell you what it's like to be resistant to change.

Tell me about how you love someone;
I'll tell you about how I love something.
(The thing I'm talking about is music.)

Tell me what it's like to want more;
I'll tell you what it's like to have enough.

Tell me how you miss someone when they're absent;
I'll tell you how I, for the most part,
Just thinks about something else instead.

Tell me what it's like to feel;
I'll tell you what it's like to want to feel.

Tell me I'm cold, passionless, insensitive.
Because for the most part, I still am.

Longing For You

by G!

If what has been said is true
That the world takes away from us
The things we love most
The longer we are in it,
Then perhaps my perpetual
Longing for you is not so unusual
After all.

I wish to profess my love
For you, or I believe I should.
I believe we are destined for
Each other, or it's just the nice thought
Of an inner romantic whose
Heart is shy and recluse and maybe
Even cold.

Why do I deny the words I want
To say to you? Why am I merely
Aware of your presence? Why
Do I merely acknowledge it, yet
Hold myself back from you. Why
Would I rather long for you than be
With you?

This longing I feel manifests itself
In awesome feelings of euphoria
And exuberance, and suddenly I
Feel, that beauty admired is not
Enough, and I must embrace it,
Hold it, possess it. Of course, that's
Wishful thinking.

The world is made more beautiful
By your existence; it is comfort
To know that there is light in
Life, and the darkness has not
Overcome it. I have no excuse, but
That the world keeps you
From me.

I do not care for the physical
Touch of love. That is but a passing
Fancy which reaches climax in an
Instant, and is felt no more, and
Though pleasurable, it is not substantial
To the bloated individual who seeks the
'Higher' you.

I procrastinate, and stall, and do
Everything I can to make you
Insignificant. Perhaps it is my
Tragic flaw. Perhaps the world has
Corrupted me, and I no longer
Want you; I just want to long
For you.

I look to any places for
What I love most,
In the end though, I'll
Only find what I need (and want)
In you.

I've realized that,
And with realization,
I hope actualization is
Soon to follow.

Her Smile

When she smiles, the smooth features of
Her face radiates a kindness I
Want to let into my cold heart,
A sweetness that penetrates
The misery of my mind like
A brilliant firework in the night.

When her back is turned, I fix my
Eyes on her long dark hair, and feel
Myself getting smaller, as her
Hair fills my periphery, and
Engulfs me in a soft bed
And I whisper, "Spectacular".

On lonely days there is solace
Found in hearing her voice in my
Ears, like the second movement of
Emperor, or the Tallis Fantasie,
a voice of music, one that
Reminds me of joy and beauty.

Her eyes fascinate, transfix
Me in the same way sheet music,
Maps and trains do, profoundly
And completely, and leads me to
Forget I am staring, which is
Impolite unless she notice.

The moment of bliss passes me by,
I smile on the inside and breathe
In the shallow, mundane air,
And behold my secret treasure:
Beauty which draws no attention
To itself, it is the most beautiful
Of all.