poem about life

Poem: It’s 1 am in the morning

~ John Loraine ~ 1 Comment


It’s 1 am in the morning or at night,
As I sit here on my backyard patio
Smoking my cigarettes, thinking my thoughts.
And the wind picks up and rolls the dead leaves on the ground
Letting me know that the summer was over.
It is over, man. All over.
As the cigarette burns and the trees shake off the dead leaves
And I sit here and wonder,
Getting more drunker and older and cold.
I am on my seventh beer, and the night is still young.
But sadly, I am not young anymore, as I age by the minute
Rolling through my life like the dry yellow leaves blown by the wind,
Out of my mind and out of my youth.
I am not getting younger, but I always wanted to be strong,
To be a true man, gentleman, to be an independent person.
But I am so weak as I still depend on so many things
Like those cigarettes, like that beer, like that night,
Like those leaves and the trees in my backyard.
The air is getting colder, and the wind blows harder,
And I know I have to get back inside.
I have to get back to the house,
To my family, to my bed, to my life.
It is Friday night in Pennsylvania,
And all I have is another six hours of sleep
And another six-pack of beer, and there’s
Another three cigarettes left in the pack
To keep me going through the night like a renegade,
Like a monster, like a lost soul.
And just like that, another new poem came to be.
A fresh new poem after a while.
And I am happy to have you again.
It’s been a long time, my friend,
It’s been a long life.

Poem: Time Never Stops

~ John Loraine ~ 1 Comment

The watch is ticking on my wrist
I can see the handles move in circles
And I can hear the tiny gears
And springs in motion.
They move the time,
They change my life,
The watch remains the same.

The watch is ticking on my wrist
But when it stops, I feel relieved.
It feels like I’ve captured the moment
I own it. It is all mine.
The watch might stop as
Life might stop
But time never stops
And the watch is always the same,
The same twenty-four hours,
The same markers for twelve, three, six, and nine.

The watch is ticking on my wrist
I can hear it in the quiet room.
It will stop when my heart stops
Beating, living, exhausted from pumping
The blood.
One day it will be the end for me
The end to all of us,
But there will be somebody
To wind that watch of life
To make it tick again,
To make the movement go,
As time goes on,
As life goes on.
Time never stops
It always moves.

Poem: People like islands

~ John Loraine ~ 10 Comments

It’s ok to be alone and not to ask questions.
Sometimes the most important
Things are left unspoken.
We all know what it is, but we don’t say it aloud.
People are like islands; they all have so much in common
But they are much different on the inside
And there is all this water between them
That it takes a boat to go from one place to the other.
Sometimes it takes a lifetime to arrive
Where you wanted.
And it takes forever to reach somebody’s mind or heart
So distant and so foreign and yet so familiar.

People are at their best when they are alone,
Then they put on the mask and walk outside
Hiding their souls and pretending not to be themselves anymore.
It is a hard game to play, and rules change all the time.
We don’t create the rules. Somebody else does. We just follow.
We don’t question. We keep it all inside unanswered and just
Like the bird locked up in the cage, beating up against the walls
Trying to get out, but it’s not possible unless
Somebody let it happen.
The sky is so close but so far away at the same time and
We all can see it, but we cannot touch it.

We can only come closer to it in our dreams.
Dream little people, dream, while the night sleeps
While the day’s done, until the next time,
Until the next day, when you will hopefully
See the daylight again. You will put your mask on and
Go out there into the world of mystery and questions,
And into the unspoken thoughts and dreams,
Trying to survive again, trying to reach the sky,
While drowning in the waters of everyday life,
More and more, deeper and deeper
Until there is nothing else to do
But to get to the bottom at peace
With peace of your mind.

Poem: Hey, man

~ John Loraine ~ 16 Comments

Hey, man.
I know you out there somewhere
You’ve been so close, and now you’re gone
into the other world,
the other side they call it,
Where I can’t see you anymore.
You’ve been around so much
You’ve always been here,
Since the young days of our lives
I’m still around and pushing through it
And you’ve been gone,
So prematurely, gone.
It felt like in the young days
There was so much to live for
There was so much to do, to try
It felt like we’ve got all the time in the world, man
And the opportunities were endless
All we needed was time.
We’ve been together for so long
We’ve done so many things as one
We’ve lived through some tough shit
And we always knew to have some fun.
We laughed, and we’ve cried, and we were
Like brothers, the best friends forever.
I know we still are, and we’ll always be,
As long as I keep you in my heart.
So many happy moments, so much
Drinking and fun,
We never needed the reason, as long as
We were together. We were on.
It’s sad to no longer have you,
No longer see you, no more calls and texts,
No more the best friendship,
It’s all in the past, in my memories now.
I’ll keep you in my prayers and thoughts
For as long as I am alive.
You’ve taught me a lot with your living
Your spirit, your grit, and your mind.
I hope you’ve found your place out there
And heaven is now your new home
I know we will see each other again at some point
And then we’ll get drunk for the old good time’s sake.
I’ll tell you my stories, and you’ll tell me yours
We’ll hug each other, we’ll laugh, and we’ll cry,
It’s lonely out here, man, but this is the life
I have to move on and fight and survive.
I know that you’re close, man. I can feel you around
I am happy to ever know you and call you my best friend.

Poem: Throwing yourself into the fire

~ John Loraine ~ 7 Comments

Today and tomorrow,
What does it matter,
Throwing yourself into the fire
And watching yourself burn.
It might hurt or damage you, or it might not,
If you’re immune or if you’re dead,
Or if you are resilient.
There is the same grey sky up above,
And there are the same sad people
Walking underneath, singing the blues
Waiting for something to happen.
The red-brick walls are turning black with mold.
The red-brick walls cannot sustain this anymore.
They’ve seen enough of struggle. They’ve been depressed
So many times that the pain cannot hold the happy colors
Anymore. The cheerful colors disappear and vanish with the sun.
The sky is clouded, dark, and mean
As we shoot the rockets through it
Trying to escape successfully.
The times are different now, and we are different too.
There is something in the air that we cannot inhale.
It will turn us to stone, it will stone us to death,
It will make us the slaves of our bodies and homes.
The freedom is gone slowly, and nobody knows where it is anymore.
Everything happened too fast.
The store shelves are empty, and the prices are higher than
Paychecks as we wait in our lines for the change.
We call ourselves names, and we want to be friends
We try to be different, yet we want to be all the same.
We try, fail, and fail again to keep on trying.
The birds don’t sing anymore; they’ve turned numb.
Our music is the reflection of us and our souls
As the turntables are spinning those records
Making them sing and turn and tell us something good.
Turning these records to gold as we are
Throwing ourselves into the fire and watching ourselves burn.

Poem: The good old days

~ John Loraine ~ 23 Comments

I reminisce about the old days
The days that passed and are a long time gone.
The days that kept me honest
The days which brought suffering and pain.

These days have left the mark inside me
They’ve been there for a reason
To help me navigate my life.
These days have made me the man I am today
These days were imprinted in my soul and mind.

My thoughts go back, and I remember thinking
How will this all play out for me one day?
I knew that something would be happening
I never knew what effect it would have on me.
The future was always a mystery and kept
It’s secrets away from me.
This was my life to live, and I did it
Knowingly and consciously.

I remember the young soul with all the needs and wants
I remember the dreaming and planning and hoping
One day for a better life to come.
I knew that nothing would stay the same and that
The world is turning, flipping, fucking up
I just needed to find my place here one day,
I needed to survive the hype.

I remember the sunny weather and
The sun’s been warming up my soul. The ocean,
It was as warm as is the bathtub water, and the sand,
It was just like powder, smooth and white.
I remember the early mornings of hope
I remember the evenings of sunsets,
I remember one day passing another,
I remember that I grew up too fast.
I remember these moments the best.

I lived in one place than another,
I knew that nothing was good enough,
I knew that I would never be completely happy
Anywhere, unless I’ll try too hard.
The young’s man heart is always wanting
And the soul is full of fire burning hot,
Life is always bitching and moaning,
And the mind never had the rest or stopped.

And even now, as I sit here thinking,
The years now passed, and the youth was gone.
I know that fire is still here, and the mind
Did calmed itself over the years and struggles
But I am still the same, still burning hot.
I think and reminisce and go back and forth in life
I know that things will never be the same again
Even if you try too hard. Life’s moved on, and so did I,
Nothing’s remained unchanged, except the little young
Man’s soul burned the dreaming hopes away.

The good old days will always be there,
The present will become the past,
The future will forever be a mystery and
One day it also is going to become the past.
I used to be so young once,
I’m growing older by the day,
It doesn’t matter. This is life. Things always happen.
One thing to know is that I did not waste my time.

Poem: Shortage

~ John Loraine ~ 12 Comments

Everything is a shortage,
Jobs,
Workers,
Unemployment checks,
Wages,
Nurses,
Hospitals,
Doctors,
Medicine,
Gasoline,
Car chips,
Pick up trucks
And Teslas,
Toilet paper,
Paper towels,
Napkins,
Sanitizers,
And water,
Masks,
Vaccines,
People’s lives,
Sober minds,
Clear minds,
Strong minds,
Independent minds.
Smart, stupid, maniacs,
Heros, assholes, morans,

Everything is a shortage or soon will be in short supply.
We need so much shit the world cannot produce enough.
As life goes on, our time is a shortage too.
After today we’ll have one day less to live.
After today, there will be another shortage of something.
Did you get everything you need?

Poem: Myself again

~ John Loraine ~ 11 Comments

Here we go again,
Living this life,
Fighting this battle.
It never feels like the end of it
Even though it comes so naturally
And unexpected.
There is less and less hope
As there is less and less sense
In today’s life
Which keeps me wondering
And confused by today
And tomorrow.
There is still the same sky up above
There is still the same sun up above,
And it still shines the same for everyone
Leaving so many at peace
And so many heartbroken.
But this is life, and this is how it is.
It comes, and it goes.
We’re just the visitors, we’re tourists,
We are the guests who often get lost.
The stars will show when the darkness comes.
The dark will keep us safe.
It is just me here sitting surrounded by four walls
Fighting the worlds on the screen
Thinking, where do they come from?
How many there are left?
The meaning of it all. The struggle of creation.
The coffee treats my soul as the
The full page treats my insecurities.
The sadness goes away as
I become myself again. Just for today.

Poem: Life

~ John Loraine ~ 12 Comments

I woke up early in the morning
Because I wanted to see more of this life
And I wanted to use my time wisely as
I know we only have so much to live
And so much to see.
It is terrifying to acknowledge that
Sooner or later, it all be gone
And we all be gone
And the world will never be the same.
And us will never be the same
As it all is moving around, changing,
Adjusting, disappearing with the sunsets,
And never emerging with the sunrises again.
The fresh cold air feels like life,
It feels like I need
More of it.
The grey-blue sky above feels like home,
It is endless, and it is always up there, somewhere.
It is time to make the changes; it is time to live
I wish I knew the proper way,
I wish I knew the secret, but I don’t.
I go on day by day, like so many others
Wondering,
What the next day will bring?
And as the day wraps up, we see
That it will bring nothing more
Then you’ve tried to accomplish.
Waiting is a waste of time and
Wating kills time and you, slowly.
There are so much to see and so much to live
So many sunsets and sunrises and
So much of the fresh air in the early mornings.
Enjoy it while it lasts, enjoy it while you can
We’re not going to be here forever
And there is no way of taking any of this with you
Once we’re gone.
It all will stay here, the same, making
Others wondering about it and enjoying it.

Poem: The rhythm of life

~ John Loraine ~ 14 Comments

Constantly running after
Something,
Constantly trying to prove
Something,
Constantly trying to escape from
Something,
Never a minute of stillness,
Never a chance for a break
One hustle after another
The man has to live his life
This way
Until there is still some life to live
Until there is still something to hustle
About
Until there is sunshine in the sky,
Until there is oxygen in the air.
Hoping one day, it will be better
Hoping one day, he can truly
Live his life.

Poem: 6 am philosophy

~ John Loraine ~ 12 Comments

It is not here or there,
It’s deep inside our minds and souls,
It’s hidden yet we all can see it,
It’s showing only when it’s time to.
The madness of the world
And the comfort of the early mornings,
The crazy of modern life
And the future that is so uncertain,
It’s what keeps us up at night
And crazy all throughout the day.
One never knows what life is
Until you’ve reached that point
Of madness and despair.
You and I will be there soon,
And all of us, at some point.
There is no escape from life,
There is no end to this future
That is so uncertain and thrilling,
And it keeps us going, all the time.