Mushroom

Tags

adult, childhood, children, lessons, life lesson, never grow up, poem, poetry, poetrybycharlesjoseph, SirCharlesThePoet

The older you are, the less room you get for mistakes
So at this young-in-age, I’m regretting each mistake that I escaped
Each wrong step that I protected myself from
Each foreseeable future that I saw myself out of

Because honestly,
These mistakes are the stories that keep your life
Alive when that room gets too small
These mistakes are the happiness, the…
*shaking my head*,
The walk away,
The naughty, “when I was your age!”…
I had way crazier fun than you, kiddo.

When the room for mistakes runs out
The warnings in your past that you
Ignored
Are what keeps your heart alive.

My grandma used to say:
When kids fall, the ground rises
To catch them.
When adults fall, the ground lowers;
They fall the deepest.

Fear is a dirty trick!
I should’ve mounted every mountain when my arms were too expressive
And boulders were not reasons to complain and reflect.
Although my legs were shorter,
I should’ve climbed every tree. Short arms but
Nature always branch out to connect

Now, each time I fall
I feel like I’ve been buried.
And have you ever tried to climb out of your own grave?

I bet you’ve been there when a coworker proves to be
Incompetent
And you find yourself having to save the company.
When that task is hefty but not healthy
…
But 16+ years of school didn’t teach the essential skills of life

I should’ve listened when they told me kids need to stay in their place.

They say we need much room to grow.
Now, I can see why because with stress, regrets,
Experiences, stories, begging for second chances
Demons and unwanted occurrences,
I’m gonna need more room, because

I’m already running out of space.
The older you are, the less room you get for mistakes
So at this young-in-age, I’m regretting each mistake that I escaped
Each wrong step that I protected myself from
Each foreseeable future that I saw myself out of

Because honestly,
These mistakes are the stories that keep your life
Alive when that room gets too small
These mistakes are the happiness, the…
*shaking my head*,
The walk away,
The naughty, “when I was your age!”…
I had way crazier fun than you, kiddo.

When the room for mistakes runs out
The warnings in your past that you
Ignored
Are what keeps your heart alive.

My grandma used to say:
When kids fall, the ground rises
To catch them.
When adults fall, the ground lowers;
They fall the deepest.

Fear is a dirty trick!
I should’ve mounted every mountain when my arms were too expressive
And boulders were not reasons to complain and reflect.
Although my legs were shorter,
I should’ve climbed every tree. Short arms but
Nature always branch out to connect

Now, each time I fall
I feel like I’ve been buried.
And have you ever tried to climb out of your own grave?

I bet you’ve been there when a coworker proves to be
Incompetent
And you find yourself having to save the company.
When that task is hefty but not healthy
…
But 16+ years of school didn’t teach the essential skills of life

I should’ve listened when they told me kids need to stay in their place.

They say we need much room to grow.
Now, I can see why because with stress, regrets,
Experiences, stories, begging for second chances
Demons and unwanted occurrences,
I’m gonna need more room, because

I’m already running out of space.

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The Absence

Tags

city, life, noise, poem, poetry, poetrybycharlesjoseph, SirCharlesThePoet, sound, write, writer

Oh, how noise-free
Are the days of annoyance free

My hair no longer itches loudly
Like chewing sugar cane hungrily

The flies no longer have marching bands as they fly up.
Oh! Would you just shut up?!

The car engines no longer have furious discussions
As people in the city find themselves in the same situations

The trumpet is no longer capable of penetrating house walls
Like the screeching of teenagers after seeing sales in malls

The pillows are no longer broken in half like bread
And squeezed on ears like masks around your head

No more aggravating noises and ears claps shut.
Oh bless the day, when noise can just disappear.

IG: Sircharlesthepoet

Common Beauty

Tags

art, beauty, blinds, common beauty, lost, natural, poem, poetry, skies, skin, sky, writer

In perfect worlds of
Imperfect beings,
Explanations of common beauty
Is long lost
To the subconscious.
So the shape and sizes
Are taped as prizes.

Nature, at times,
Sneaks in,
Tricks sin,
Seeks through vein
Then, attraction is found
In the colors. Their brightness
In the unexplainable. Its art
In the different. Its authenticity

In a world of blinds crossing skies,
And the limped crossing rivers,
Very few take the time.
To see <
Converse ’till it’s late;

Ask clouds of their beauty:
Free falling; filling rivers

But those who do
Are blessed
With a third eye. So skin,
No longer,
Holds pockets-full of lust
It holds beauty: something to map the lost.

Clothes are no longer framed by Finance
To honor chance,
But are
Intertwined simply
Inter the simplicity
Of none other than art—commonly viewed as beauty.

@sircharlesthepoet

I CREATED A YOUTUBE CHANNEL!!!

Tags

adventure, advice, excited, new step, new things, performance, poem, poetry, recording, video, youtube

Hey everyone!

I don’t have much to say, but I just wanted to stop by to say: I HAVE A YOUTUBE CHANNEL!!!

So one of the many goals that I had this summer was to perform more at poetry events. Not only that, but I also wanted to record my performances and upload them somewhere: YOUTUBE! So I created a Youtube Channel for my work!

Okay, let me give some fair warning. When it comes to media, the only thing worst than my knowledge on recording equipment is how to edit my videos. Haha. Therefore, I am recording with my phone and just posting it up on Youtube with no editing or anything. But things have been going well so far! If you have any advice on good recording equipments (cheap ones too because, you know…college student here) or ways to become a better Youtuber, let me know!!

That is all that I have to say today. The link to my most recent Youtube video is below. Besides that, check out my page for my other videos here, and LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!! Subscribe, like, comment, share with your friends and family (and enemies too).

Comment your thoughts on this post, please. Thank you! (I’m so excited!!!!!) 😀

These City Boys

Tags

city, citylights, lifestyle, newyorkcity, NYC, poem, poetry, skyline, stars, wordpress, write, writer's, writing

Sometime, down the road in your life,
You’re going to meet another guy
A City Boy.
Then you’ll remember:

These City Boys!
They always tend to their phones
Face planted inside the screen
Like caring for a baby that screams
Asking for an endless attention

These City Boys!
They are never doing
“One thing”
Their full attention is never present.
It’s texting while “paying attention”
Working while watching a movie
Listening to music while…Just living!
So the radio in their head
Never. Turns. Off.

These City Boys!
Never have they never ever
Not take a breath at the stars.
They’re used to big lights on poles
On all streets.
As soon as the timing hand strikes six
There is no such thing as late night walk
Through sticks.
Have they ever tuned to the melodies
Of crickets before?

These City Boys!
So busy staying connected
That they all are wireless:
It’s Snapchat this
Facebook that,
Instagram now
Make time to tweet later
As heartfelt connections disappear further

These City Boys!
Would they please listen!
Lacking the most basic skills to navigate
A fluid conversation
Flowing observation
To what the partner might have truly mentioned

These City Boys!
Their sight of trees resides in public parks
That are rarely clean.
It’s only buildings here
Towers there
Skyscrapers everywhere!
So chins are raised to the heavens in awe
As the environment becomes non-existent

These City Boys.
They’re so Conserved…
But the ones who are free, damn are they infectious?!
A personality so contagious:
Like Gold dripping out of the mouth
Of a triumphant Elephant wearing the Divine crown.
Their freedom is treasure
Not of this world.
They are struck by that peaceful joy
And, it’s as if you were witnessing
The skyline of a million stars in your eyes

Except, it’s not stars.
It’s the City Lights.

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

Language

Tags

college, education, engineering, experience, math, poem, poet, poetry, relatable, school, science, SirCharlesThePoet, university

I leave my math and science classes.
Everyday
Convincing myself to switch.
Majors

Each class: a different language.
I don’t understand
One that mixes my sand,
Over stretch my brain
Far passed too sane to know.
I am now insane

Languages my whole life-hood
Was never prepared for.
Not to any extent

Like setting fire to a saint,
My knowledge, intelligence:
Control center
Is dumbfounded…
Or found itself dumb

Too ashamed
To be astonished,
Too puzzled
To resolve
The Greeks and Romans
I am expected to resurrect,
The ideologies and theories
I am expected to real-eyes.

Because real-eyes realize
These numbers and letters and signs and cosigns
Don’t sympathize.

So I’m left with black-hole eyes
Convinced.
I don’t speak the language of my demise

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

My Life, in My Sight

Tags

beautiful, city, girl of my life, ice cream, NYC, poem, poetry, train, vacation, writing

Today, I saw the girl of my life…
The music slowly faded and felt like wings,
The artist didn’t sing;
The drums didn’t bang
I couldn’t even search for an explanation on Bing.

But the song turned into a symphony,
So possessive, so lovely.
My soul held on and flew with each note,
Giving the tune 100% of its vote.
To fly it out of the train station,
By her side, to a vacation

Her hair;
Her curly hair
Swirls like the tip of ice cream,
After escaping the machine.
Like a child seeing ice cream, controlled focus was gone.

“Moma, I want some ice cream.”

She was wearing a “skater” hat, backwards
But everything about her was forwards

The straps in her book bag
Captured my attention, and my motion lagged.

Today, I saw the girl of my life…

The song that did not know of an end, forgot its rhythmic pattern

The music notes couldn’t bat their wings

My soul was lost in some Caribbean island resort

The kids held their ice cream, carelessly, in the humidity

The ice cream forgot it has to melt.

Today, I saw the girl of my life…
That afternoon, my breath parted
While my immobile body admired her from afar
As she walked, out of my life.

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

Sin on Paper

Tags

gin, liquor, poem, poet, poetry, poison, sin, sorrow, Words, write, writing

Words in pen,
Pen on paper.

Watch out for your sin,
They’ll hunt you later.

Write, write and sing—
Sing in your bottle of gin.

Sing your crisis,
Your shadow parting from your below;
You think you’re a hero.

Whisper your tragedies away, into your palms
Bless the young lady with your hand;
Bless her with the curse you pain—
The poison from a blessing.

Now, you see her eyes in every maiden’s lenses.
They’re hunting you past your choruses of,
“I’m sorry, please take me back. I Can Do Better!”
They’re the nightmare in your best dreams,
And you’re wishing cancer was in your genes.

So, give your life to gin;
It will deafen you, and you won’t hear yourself sing vain.

Pen on paper,
But your pen, is full with your sin.

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

Still, I Procrastinate

Tags

college, dream, habits, Moon, nature, poem, poetry, procrastinate, procrastination, Sleep, write, writer

This is something I wrestle.
At night, under the darkness, I nestle.
Although I beg for sleep,
Worldly desires snug me tightly.
I complain, I revolt, I beg
For sleep to toss a chance

Then, I look to the Moon.

A Being that fidgets not,
Doesn’t turn its back on us,
Nor its silent promises.

So why do I turn my back
On my promises?
I struggle to gain control
Yet, I drown it below.

The moon teaches a lesson!
I revolt.
So here I am: struggling late night
Dreaming to rest with its light.

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

New Day

Tags

art, beautiful, day, Light, new day, poem, poetry, positivity, post, sun, writer, writing

It’s a New Day!
The sky is hiding gold or it is
Hiding lightning?

It’s a New Day!
And I don’t mean lightning that strikes
Nor that which causes babies to cry.
I tattle-tell of the light inside of you!
That which pushes you far, and oh! Much high!

It’s a New Day!
Maybe the sky is not hiding your light,
Sadly
But from tip to tip, it is a canvas
Or a scroll, if you hold it up right.
So where you’re standing, young one,
You can scribble everything
You’ve ever wanted! Or draw your light,

It’s a new day.

 

@sircharlesthepoet