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

Above the River

Tags

above the river, Anger, authenticity, city, city poetry, happiness, home, poem, poetry, poetrybycharlesjoseph, relief, trains, writer

Don’t listen to music when on the train.
You’ll find different conversations
Between the rails and humans
Or the silent angers,
Slight annoyance by others
That never escape the heart
Until the train escapes the tunnel
And light rushes in through the window,
Giving the rails much reasons to scandal
Rosetta Stone couldn’t understand them.
But they understood us
Leading our way through the serio-us
Escaping the hole of shadows with glee
Above rivers imitating the sea.
Then anger calms down to a blissful cheer
With the river humming, “Home is near”

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

Classies

Tags

alcohol, beautiful, drugs, education, experiences, poem, poet, poetry, school, weed, write, writer, writing

I never asked for the girls to snap my neck:
Why I never made it to class.
I never asked for the bus driver to be funny:
Why I always miss the stop at the student union.

Digging clouds to find my destiny,
Each hit, breaking a piece of different shape,
God never blessed my consistency.
Or was I in the lecture hall,
My head higher than the projector.
So it was hard to see

Maybe the optimist
(and I mean the proud)
Are begging for pity
In their rich successful laughters,
Fists bumping in the air
And voices penetrating
As if they’re the only ones there.

Learning math teaches
There’s a different way to solve every problem.
So you can get lifted, or settle with buzzed
Don’t know how, but this part of life is solemn.

The assignments mean our life is due—
Why they call it a deadline
We’ll be dead if we cross that line.
So we dance all near it
Then, entertainment down right before the second.
Not yours, but call it our lifestyle

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

Together, We Live

Tags

art, bold, bulnerable, Careless, Dance, fools, poem, unity, writer

Let us dance. To the rhythm of our breaths

Let’s smile like the stars need guidance,
Laugh like the sun is turned off

Let’s dance. Each step giving way to the better
Tomorrow

Let’s break the rules because
If they were good
They wouldn’t be breakable

Let’s be fools, and not fear judgement

Let’s drown in our imperfections
Accept them as perfections

Let’s live, breathe, run and stay in a joyful episode

 

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

Sleepless (by @O at the Edges)

Tags

bed, college, no sleep, nosleepteam, poem, poet, poetry, Sleep, sleep deprived, writer

Sleepless One night exhausts another, layering sheets and blankets, wrinkles and folds. Oh, the body wants to still the mind, and shedding this weight, float freely through the night. Your memory of sleep’s touch withers as you lie there, absorbing the fan’s pattern. How wonderful, then, to finally drift across the room and settle […]

via Sleepless — O at the Edges

A Living Art

Tags

art, beauty, life, living, living art, natural, nature, poem, poetry, writer

The traces on the body are that of an architect
A walking amazement
Crowds cheer, though silently
Thus, the self proceeds, oblivious of such.

The outline of the body is that carved by nature
Fruits to the head
Sweetness for the belly
Feet move like trees breezing naturally.

Personality in the body is a sack, that of diamonds
Some seen as more prosperous than others,
Following it: an essence of pure heart
Yet, you don’t see that you are art.

Copyright © 2017 by, Charles Joseph Augustin

 

Through The Storms

Tags

chasing storms, ink, lessons, life, love, Pain, poem, poetry, resilience, storms, through the storms, write, writer

Many men, have watched you walk Down into waters

Many less, have seen that you rise a goddess—

Rivers flowing down your face, As you progress through this desert

Chase sun,

Chase clouds,

Chase rain

But one day,

You won’t chase storms.

Copyright © 2017 by, Charles Joseph Augustin

@sircharlesthepoet