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Sircharlesthepoet

~ Poetry by Charles Joseph

Sircharlesthepoet

Tag Archives: poem

like We

23 Monday Jan 2023

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in poetry, writing

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

creativewriting, Likewe, literature, poem, whoweare, writing, youngadults, youngadultsculture

We hate that We’re like We but We
wouldn’t change We for the world
though the world changes for itself
other planets uncaringly in its atmosphere

you wouldn’t want no different
than We but you are filled with
questions confusion a volcano
tugging and probing for readjustment

so may try or think We lesser than you
but We hate what We are what We are
We wouldn’t change for your world you
publicize as perfect but tuck sunsets into dawn

We hate what We are. Why are We
like this? Return on character investment
happens before an answer arrives,
that won’t change much anyways.

—————————————

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if i die in my sleep

09 Monday Jan 2023

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in poetry

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

activism, Americandreamdeferred, creativeliterature, ifidieinmysleep, poem, poetry, purposefulart, withpurpose

my mother struggles for the care of her community
drop outs on broadcast with a curriculum in their mouth,
the avenues always studying.
so why the education that you offer?

which level of this cycle begs the most for attention?
my brother strives to open our eyes
presenting to a collection of disguise
he’s the example, avenue. a Promise
but our stomachs ask for attention, too

if death comes for me, tonight
where in my sleep will it place the blame?
am I a bad student? or do certain teachings drowse me
amiss to the dreams deferred before i knew of sleep
the dreams yawning, yearning, to be awake in the present

my uncle’s teeth are rotting
but Which lesson in life did he not learn?
Which course initiated the faults in him?
Which choices were his to make?

—————————-

This poem was the result of an assignment I was given by an organization. The instruction was to write a poem that touches upon the idea of “The American Dream Deferred.” I wrote the poem and sent it to them, but I never heard back. It’s a great piece though. I surprised myself too.

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i hesitate.

05 Monday Dec 2022

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in poem, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

ihesitate, indecisive, literature, makingdecisions, poem, poetry, relatablecontent, Selfconfidence

and the nervousness is in every crack in my confidence
it slides on all the bends in my personality then leaks out
my fearless structure like an egg almost saved

i shrug
i make excuses
i mask the disappointment with reasons why it was not meant to be,
concealed with a blame away from me.

i dictate the supposed sequencing of the events of the past
perhaps God had made a mistake on how things developed
surely the powers that be mishandled this encounter

i contempt; the opportunity was not of merit, regardless
even though i’ll spend the rest of time thinking about my deeds,
reimagining the event in a world where I get second chances, and thirds,
or a world where i flawlessly predict the obvious next occurrence

even though i’ll shame myself in future recounts
about a great missed opportunity.

—————————

Rest In Peace to all the opportunities we missed because of lack of confidence and nervousness 🙏🏾✨

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where does a train run

28 Monday Nov 2022

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in Art, poetry

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Tags

childhood, poem, poetry, poetrycommunity, toys, toytrain, train, welovekids

A train runs in the backyard but the
wooden fences are still leaning from
the previous generation so the train
kept going on its own tracks

five executive reps stuck their ears to the
ground to locate the incoming sound but
the train sometimes runs above so excuse
New York City if it seems to have lost its way

maybe a train runs through walls so
since the great discovery, the bells have
been a mystery and the rolling rocks have
discovered the purpose within their spirit

but the people collecting tickets are well
accustomed so they will never check the
carpet in their living room even though
in a rush they’ve broken the plastic tracks

built on the dead heat of playtime because
that’s where all of reality makes total sense
the conductor on bruised knees. Who’s also
the engineer, the passenger, the fuel, and the
only one who knows the way.

————————-

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Lamp’s Glass

21 Monday Nov 2022

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in poetry, writing

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Tags

lampsglass, literature, Naturallove, poem, poetry, thehardshipsoflife, writing

To: Tati Vèlanp 💕

the sharp edges hurt like a flower’s petal
the texture receives grief like a cloud’s golden smile

if I fall in grace forever, eventually I’ll reach hell
so I remain
in confort. Soundless movements of my body
obedience to my wishes, without complaint

so I ask how?
but acceptance is not a choice
it’s a decision made after a day of heavy burdens
even when surrendering all the weight is done relentlessly
unaware of the permanent pain, poison, pressure caused
even when it has to bend unusually for your confort

love is only an idea for the amateur, and the cowards who overthink
the purest form is “what else is there to do?” but embrace—
let me lay my heavy head of a day’s frustrations
somehow, turn density into dispersion, dissipation.

the nights are frustrating.
they leave you in the morning, with creases to flatten
for you to accept a bird’s song that is already rejected
so you might as well choose to live in hell.
so long as the fire shine for my confort
what else is there to do?

————————————

She’s the light of my life! ❤

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Looking at You

14 Monday Nov 2022

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in poetry, writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

creativewriting, Infatuation, literature, lookingatyou, Lookintomyeyes, poem, poetry, writing

your eyes in mine
we’re pondering each other’s thoughts
we’ve shaken each other’s understanding of life
and we know the dust will never settle

there’s a game made to bring us closer
but i’ve already fallen into the river in your iris
so i hope to always be a part of you, regardless.

let Earth remember us as artists
overwhelmed by passion, so we consume each other
in the tight chamber with royal elephants on the wall;
a forest of sunshine or absolute darkness;
a temple with mirrors on the wall

webs of betrayal bundled inside, connecting our eyes;
galaxy, flavored chocolate.
cobwebs attach—closing the distance between

———————————————

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A Cry From Imprisonment

01 Tuesday Nov 2022

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in love, passion

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Tags

acryfromimprisonment, literature, love, lovepoem, poem, relationshipmess, SirCharlesThePoet, writing

I’ve been reaching out to her in every way that I can from my cell

You see, patience is not my best feature

So I tap on the metal bars in search of a rhythm
Only her and I understand
I launch a sound in the air, hoping I know where her ears are listening

I summon her in the middle of the night in my lucid dreaming
if that’s what it takes to see her
I tell her I’m here. I’ll always be waiting and looking for her

You see, patience is not my best feature

So my spirit rises in the atmosphere to transmit my prayer
The wind causes turbulence. Sometimes I’m cold, and I envelop myself
I leave all I have behind because my interests are not pleasing her

There are some possibilities I must accept. But my heart doesn’t understand patience nor defeat
My soul doesn’t accept an outcome until it’s bold enough to face me
So I strum a guitar chord in her direction
“I’m sorry. I’m back. I’m waiting.”
So I speed through my daily commitments to leave an eternity of time for her. Forever.
Until she decides to come back.

You see, patience is not my best feature

So I apologize to my past.
I go back to the event that changed everything
Then create a reality where all of our dreams are accomplished
Where neither of us suffer and serve punishments

I recreate a bond so inviting
We’d have reasons to leave our unimpressive realities
We’d abandon the happiness we started forcing ourselves to rejoice in,
And go to that part of the multiverse
Where we nurtured freedom, peace and safety
All of our comforts.

So what are we living for? If not to amount into a higher self that exists throughout the universe
how long will it take until my higher self exists with her?
In the same room, where we go through our grocery list, separate the laundry and rip our hair over tax forms
Did you forget that alternate future?

How bad does the present have to be destroyed to rewrite a future set in stone?
How many times must I kill myself? How many times should I volunteer to die before my spirit arises to deity?
How holy must a human be to enter the presence of a Goddess who is cursed to these streets and mortal moral? Humanity morality

You see, patience is not my best feature

So I lay in bed unimpressed by lateness
I calculate these possibilities. Bringing the guardians of time to anxiety
I ask them to pay their debt for my frequent trips to the future, in the past,
Because the present had matters to be tended to and resolved
But I was convinced these matters already destroyed our future.

You see, patience is not my best feature

So I shoot the dream down out of anxiety.
I abandon the boat before it sails
I remove the moon from the sky claiming it’s to protect it
“Fear” is too similar to “care” so one is often confused for the other
So instead of waiting for doomsday or our ticket to paradise
I figured it’s best if I never find out.

————————

I wrote this about 7 hours ago. So it is still pretty new and unedited. If you have any suggestions on how I can improve it, please do let me know. Thank you!

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Writing on the Train 📝✍🏾

24 Monday Oct 2022

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in poetry

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Tags

commute, literature, poem, poetry, train, whattodoonthetrain, writing, writingonthetrain

it’s the sense of having nothing to do—
though surrounded by inspiration
conversations bombarding the ear
start an analyzation.

My thoughts becoming lamps hanging
in the obscure tunnel that i travel
with a hissing passion bringing me
to astonishment.

before my destination, I arrive at an idea sometimes
it waits for me—standing on the platform alone,
in the open air, where cold wind brings the echoes
the bench sitting in suspense, waiting for its purpose

—————-

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All the Time

17 Monday Oct 2022

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in poetry

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Tags

Allthetime, creativeliterature, ifihadallthetimeintheworld, literature, livetowork, poem, poetry, Worktolive, writing

If i had all the time in the world, i still wouldn’t complete my responsibilities

i’d become a monk; i’d be a preacher of an earthly life
to value caring for one’s self
to distance from the need of currency
to reject the necessity for labor

i’d drench myself in the pleasures of the world.
If i had all the time in the world,
i’d spend time thinking of the best chores to complete
i’d spend time thinking—as an action

i’d let the world go by because isn’t it all meaningless?
What’s the purpose of the things we cultivate on earth
if all the crops will remain? So i sink deeper into my sermon
of rigidness—detach myself from what is not needed

If i had all the time in the world, i’d float on excuses
i wouldn’t worry about the voices in my subconscious
i’d glide to the end of time. Regret, as patient as could be,
waiting. i’d shame myself, seeing i’m out of time

wishing If only I had more time

—————

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Dead Dreams

15 Thursday Sep 2022

Posted by sircharlesthepoet in poem, poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

creativewriting, deaddreams, literature, poem, poetry

There’s a graveyard in my house.
Dreams in the tears on my pillow;
Dead Dreams of long ago, on my pillow.

Shaking fingers
Chasing strangers
Until,
A trumpet is blown,
A grave is owned

Tear drop.

There are Dead Dreams in my house.
Dreams that have Passed way too long ago
To be Resurrected.

I ponder to myself,
Shovel after shovel:
“I could have held tighter;
It could have lived longer.”

Dead Dreams in my soul
A graveyard on my heart
Crosses, tombstones rising out of my chest.
When I’m sad, I wonder if it is because
There are too many Dead Dreams?
When I’m happy, I wonder if it is because
There are too many spirits?

Dead Dreams in my vessel
Dead Dreams in my house.
My steps are never gentle
For I travel with force

They’re trying to pull me under.


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Welcome back!

  • So much to do but NOT ENOUGH TIME! February 1, 2023
  • Dark, Dark, Dark Moon January 30, 2023
  • My hobbies! January 26, 2023
  • like We January 23, 2023
  • Memories Left in the Night January 18, 2023

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Welcome back!

  • So much to do but NOT ENOUGH TIME! February 1, 2023
  • Dark, Dark, Dark Moon January 30, 2023
  • My hobbies! January 26, 2023
  • like We January 23, 2023
  • Memories Left in the Night January 18, 2023

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