Happiness

happiness,

thorough in its beauty,

speaks the minds of those

who don't understand

just what they're getting into,

regardless of time spent alone,

people left behind, or memories

that remain,

unchanged, unharmed, useless,

alone...

missing the point, the

time of the century,

left undone, spinning,

like yarn untarnished,

venturing to explain

what's left of

the minds of

those who seek to know

what grabs the attention of

a man waiting to be found

by the ghost of a past,

smiling as the future looks

on, as if it were a chance to

dissipate into the nothingness in

the eyes of a natural world,

expecting only to be found by

the men who ramble on, regardless

of the tempers, unseen by those looking

to find the generation of people that

were once hopeful in the ways they

still don't

understand, except in the way that

a man sees what he cannot, but

a condescension to progress into

knowing what should not be,

alas, screaming "we will not

return to this

place," unless of course that

smile returns and

happiness released.

 

Parents, children, people,

who work for all we never

wanted; I seek to

find everything I never had, except

that in these moments of peace,

I lose myself, trying

hard to recollect an assurance

of things that seek an

emotion of a sea

of changes that none

of us want, that none

of us embrace, that we

all seem to lose in

the moment that counts,

exciting

the senses and sense of

myself, lost to the

crowd of,

men of,

people of,

joke of,

the world inside the

means that set apart

the gems and gold from

the rocks and stones,

looking to find,

always looking,

searching, indeed, at

once trying to

wreck the nerves that

had a chance to

settle the souls of

the men and women,

the boys and girls,

the outside and in

 

looking on

with sparkling wisdom,

trying, with desperate

rage to

fall in line

with the ones and twos

in threes of fives, that

search with expectations of

an entire race of lost

unheard cries and

hidden smiles, wishing,

at once,

they were where

they want to be, and

remain what they are,

in spite of you, as

I become me and

you are what is

and what is what

becomes, what

became the eyes and ears

of those who sit

blind and deafened by

the wants and needs

of a world unworn

by time, harmed

by those that love

it most, shivering

at the thought of

their most sacred

dreams, looking hard,

looking long,

looking on, for

a glimpse, a single

glimpse at the sight

of the desires that were

once housed in the hearts

of those that seek

to find shelter in

their own sheltered lives,

as they look on with

teary-eyed madness

of the void-filled

triangle for the last of

the men that want what

they wish they didn't, and

only as an afterthought

to the smiling

onlooker, who fell

into place only because

he was what they weren't,

and wanted only what they

had, smiling, frequent, as

if only a dream were

possible, only in a dream,

a nightmare to be awake

 

the broken-hearted

fascist, searching for

redemption in

the eyes of people,

harmed by the innocence

that fills their consciousness

as if to say "mine is what

is to become of you when

the time is right," failing to

realize what it is that

haunts them daily as

they walk along the misty

shores of life undone, life

beside itself with a joyous

sense of pride brought

about by the smiles,

only the smiles,

the smiles of

happiness.

Author's Note

I didn't want to add any description for this work, because I would love to see how everyone interprets this in their own way. All feedback is much appreciated.

Reviews

[Glen Yumang Manese]

You weave one long thought process into a collective here with this piece...I almost wanted to quit reading it...but the flow keeps you in as a reader and the meaning of it all to put everything together into a perspective of happiness...the depths of what is happiness in each and everyone one of us...and the reasoning behind the whole verse...