Out of the Past

I can't find where I used to be
An all too distant memory
I re-read the words that followed me here
They've pinned me down in another year

I set out to tell a story
And I ended up writing quite a few
But the problem with getting older
Is forgetting what once was new

It's not a feeling I can recreate
Nor do I want to. Perhaps simulate?
It's a chapter I've finished reading, I suppose
But I'm not sure how the next chapter goes

It reads confusing, like a different language
And it feels distant like an unknown age
The difference is distinct, but utterly satisfying
I'm finding so much happiness while not even trying

I have no regrets save the pages still pending
I have no idea how to get to the ending
I have a new love that sets pages a fire
And yet there remains and unfinished desire

Enough already! Stop trying to retrieve
Just put pen to paper and start to believe
Work from new emotions and let those feelings go
That work was built through depression, or didn't you know?

Finish the story, find a new way to start
You can finally end it because you have her in your heart

Comeback

Lost it? Can't find it.
Wondering where that part of my mind is
You wrote; now you quote
Originality locked in complexity
A story for someone
That I can't seem to get done
A past life, I lived
To get it back; what I wouldn't give
If depression was its food
I'd say goodbye for good
If loneliness was its fire
I'd happily leave that desire
Which emotion caused a spark?
What no leaves me in the dark?
I am happy.  I am content.
Is that what caused its end?
Creativity running dry
And all I can ask is why?
Is it me? Have I changed?
Is my lack of effort to be blamed?
Is it okay? Is it for the best?
Is it all just a part of my past?
I'm in love.  I'm no longer searching
Still, the desire to write is lurking...

Nostalgia

Sit back. Relax. And imagine it's raining...
Another day in and a day's worth of complaining
From you, from them, all to no end
From side to side from the middle and then...

Everything and everyone shouts, all at once
Feigned  intelligence while wearing caps that say "DUNCE"
Lean to the left, lean to the right
Stuck in the middle and itchin' for a fight

When there's wisdom in comedy
When there's dispute among classes
When there's nostalgia in brutality
It's no wonder there's unrest in the masses

Sit back. Relax. And imagine there's sun
And we're all back in primary education
From you, from them, knowing absolutely nothing
Snotty hand holding snotty hand but knowing one thing...

That in this moment we haven't a care
And life is just a game of truth or dare
Elaborate fortunes were told on paper 
And circles and dots could prevent what was in the air

When there are adults who haven't grown up
When the monsters have come out from under the bed
When what we've stomached is something we should've thrown up
It's no wonder we're all lost in our own heads

Sit back. Relax. And imagine it's snowing
And we're no longer concerned if our hearts are showing
From you, to them, then repeat again and again
Until you can look into their eyes and see that they're glowing

Entitled

Necks made of rubber, with no moral glue

Blind to opportunity and what they continue to do

Don’t feed the animals; just tap on the glass

Don’t make a difference or get off their a___

The fans don’t spin they’re just blocked with s___

And they’re too busy to deal with it

They keep looking forward through rose-colored shades

Never believing life’s a bitch and one day they’ll fade

Bull S___. More S___. Piled Higher and Deeper

All to earn a degree as a certified sleeper

Sworn to secrecy. But still speaking evil

Watch the trash pick at the trash like a bunch of hungry seagulls

They turned their backs and said goodbye

But still expect answers when they ask why

Seemingly entitled to the bitter bloody end

And they wonder why they can’t find friends

A hope and a life created by those before

Disregarded, forgotten and thrown on the floor

Currently unde-serving three hundred million plus

Self-satisfied amnesiacs who’ll never get enough

Presently forgetting those who worked to get them here

And the spirit that was lost; to simply persevere

The foundation layers will die soon, it’s only a matter of when

And the entitled will look nostalgically at “back then”

They’ll sink into smug despair questioning how things went awry

Never admitting to their entitled neglect until the day they die…