What we’ve come to Remember

 

We’ve all seen things

That can’t be recalled

We’ve all dreamed

Things that we cannot remember

Some sorrowful

Some pain filled

But most elusive

Most; beautiful

 

You could see them in the waves’ of your tea

You could see them, viewing past the vastest of seas

Faintly resurfacing, at the strangest of ticks

A dreadful or masterful imaginative paradise

Completely original

Completely new; beautifully gorgeous

Striking to say the very least

 

We’ve all seen what has built us

But we tend to release

Unconscious discredit

To stitch it up into forgotten prisons;

Sectioned off parts of our brains

 

We’ve all seen the terrors or joy bringers

That opened our mind for the briefest of seconds

We’ve all unknowingly participated in unending battles,

Against our own creativity

Fighting constantly, constantly, consistently

Against the most precious of memories

The most precious of dreams

The dreams that stop us from purposely inhibiting

Against our own imagination

 

All the stress’s we purposely press

Onto willingly

Speeds the death of what isn’t usually

Encouraged; our stresses only

Hasten our “so called” silly unneeded waste of time

But for the majority; unfortunately

They and I immediately get discouraged

By the real time of day

Or the now and till

 

Your collaborator left null

Your being out casted by your own self

To be

Left unthought-of

To be

Left alone

These are the things I’ve come to remember

The weird loneness and insecurity…

I’d like to know why?!

Why do I remember too much of nothing

Nothing being what I did this morning

Nothing being the work I do to survive

Nothing being the desires I exert myself too

The desires I beat and strain to sustain

These are the only things I’ve come to remember

Unimportance…

 

So I ask you.

Why can’t I remember the snow?

Or the bleak; undead filled adventures of horror, betrayal, and sorrow

The landscapes that repeat, create, or constantly resurface or recur

The airport, the elevator, the plains the mountains the cityscapes the sound-scapes the beauty, my pretence

My en-trance, my~ entrance

To my awe-filled salvation

 

I had a dream;

Or was it a memory

That’s the problem with today

The more I think about it

Reality is what feels like the mash-up of memories

Something that should be less important to me

 

It’s looking bleak outside

Graced with what was left behind

Each left a different subtle mark

Each left behind a feeling

And I love that feeling

Reviews

[Veritatis Cupitor]

Truly enjoyed this piece. I liked its thought provoking nature. It has a unique style, great flow and nice imagery. One of my favorite lines being: "You could see them in the waves’ of your tea" :)
On a side note, in the 6th "stanza" you wrote loneness. I believe you meant to say loneliness.

Hmm... But why do we remember more of "nothing" than of Life's own beauties? Why do we get all caught up in doing "nothing"? (A waste of time in my opinion, yet Im a conformist too.)

[raining]

keep on keeping on with your writing, you have an interesting style, if that is what you call it. Kind of introspective.