Bread

Bread

"A loaf of bread, and a hat", I said

Are the only things I've ever had.

One is to keep me full and fed

And the other just caps my head.

The rich, they told me, "soon you'll be dead,

A man can't survive with no job and no bed.

You need a career, a life, a wife, and a roof over your head"

So then I decided they were right, one night,

That a man with nothing to bite, just might

Go seek out a different life, no strife,

And finally be an apple ripe, no pipe.

I begin my passion

I learn the fashion

Trends and all else that happens

I pack in, clothes and books, to my sack and

Then I learn to educate myself and begin to be flapping.

My wings spread wide,

From my passion no one hides,

Because they can't, I'm too driven, too strong to ever give in.

Nothing will stop me nothing's in my way,

And my hard work has paid off, my loans are the same.

I made it to the top, in my industries I'm the head,

But I always look back to when I was almost dead.

The days when I had no roof, just a cap up on my head.

And the days when the only food I had was bread.

Beautiful Day

A Beautiful Day

by Matthew D. Ciaramitaro

Look at your hands, your thumbs, your feet.

Feel the contour of flesh, the texture of meat.

It is magnificent to think of how I am me.

There is no one alike, we all are unique.

Feel the roughness of hair, the shape of your bones.

Touch the lobes of your ears. Hear the beautiful tones

Of a scream, a song, a speech a moan.

Any sound is beautiful, from symphony to stone.

The perfect imperfections on your body are beautiful.

Each tells a tale that could never be dull.

The tales fill a bucket that will never be full,

But the incompleteness of the stories are what makes life feel whole

The smell of a rose, the taste of a drink,

We take for granted these things, but I hope it will sink

Into your mind just to stop and think

How lucky you are to be able to blink.

The fact that you exist is a miracle of the world.

Appreciate your life before it's unfurled.

I walk through the woods

A soul

Alone

I think of the woulds

The coulds

The won'ts

I soon hear a sound

Its bright

But faint

But then there's a round

I jump

I faint

I'm covered in it

It's red

It's paint?

My head has been hit?

It hurts

The pain.

I see its face though

The noise

Maker

It's vile and gross

With lips

That curl

I run but I can't

My legs

Won't move

I feel that I shan't

Live on

To prove

My purpose was real

Not false

Or wrong

But now I can feel

Purpose

Is gone

Still so much to do

No dreams

Fulfilled

With nothing to prove

I would

Prove still

I cry to the world

"Not now!

Too soon!"

Its lips are still curled

Eyes dark,

Cold stone

Malice in its heart

Its soul

Its mind

It goes through my heart

My soul

My mind

The knife takes away

All that

Was mine

The future looked bright

But now

I'm blind

I think of the woulds

The coulds

The won'ts

I walk through the woods

A soul

Alone.

Be a Rock

As a boulder rolls down a mountain,
It crumbles, it breaks.
But then the dust begins clouding
Whether the pieces are together or apart.
However so, they fall in the same direction.
They were one, but move together as two parts.
So one they still are, the fractures made fractions
Of the whole that the boulder once was,
But even with a hole in the heart of the stone,
The hole becomes a hearth, and even through the dust.
The pieces find each other, and are never alone.

As a boulder rolls down a mountain,
it breaks until all thats left is a few stones,
One stone is thrown into a fountain,
Others are brought into peoples homes,
Yet the stones will always be a part of the boulder
The stones are the boulder whether in tandem or isolated.
Even as the world begins to smolder.
Each stone dies as it was created.

As the boulder rolls, it begins to rain.
The rain falls unto a wildfire.
Two things so separate, so different, yet the same.
They join, and one becomes wetter and the other becomes drier,
Yet entirely, the two are now one, floating together in the air.
And even when the clouds and the rain tear them apart,
the water will alway find the fire somewhere.
Whether it art by weather, or art by art.
Thy fire burns ferociously and thy lake sits calmly,
Yet thy fire is so soothing, and thy lake becomes a rapid.
My passion lives no matter what becomes thee,
And the fire's love for the rain can never be vapid.

As the boulder rolls down a mountain,
The rain falls unto a wildfire.
As one becomes many, there's no discounting.
That many will become one, and together they will acquire

An eternal existence within the other,
that draws them back to each other.
But in being the same neither can be an other.
Even when apart from one another.

As the boulder rolls down a mountain,
A beginning begins an end, and ends a beginning.
As the rains falls unto a wildfire,
An end ends a beginning and begins an end.