Hey Father.

Hey father, how have you been?
I haven't seen you in a while.
I can see being a father isn't quite your style.
What is it this time? Jail?


Hey father, how long do you think you'll be?
I'm getting tired of waiting.
My heart is deflating.
I thought you were beginning to see


Hey father, will this be the last time?
I want to you to become a better man;
You for once need to do the best you can
I'm done with this petty crime.


Hey father, it's time to get your act together.
I need your help to grow.
I need you to do more than just put on a show.
Your life is beginning to look like dried leather.


Hey father, I want you to be in my life.
I'm tired of this absence feeling
I miss you, there's a need for healing.
I feel my brain in strife.


Hey father, please read this carefully,
It's time you really hear what I have to say.
The rope's beginning to fray.
If anyone were to look at you, you would have anything but a normalcy.

A box

I've seen you through many of your struggles.
I've seen you get hurt time after time.
I continue to offer you my help but,
All you say is no.
I've tried so many times you've just resorted to,
First, make a cuckold out of me.
Then, throwing me out on the street.
So I leave as you so harshly suggested.
But, I would like to leave you with one thing.
This box.
In this box, I've left some things I hope you'll want someday sooner or later.
The first, are my eyes, so that you can see how I see you.
The most beautiful being I will ever see.
Perfect no matter what you may think.
Second, is my ears so you can listen to all the beautiful things my mind whispers to them throughout the day.
From your amazing laugh,
to how much I love hear you sing.
Every note making me fall deeper and deeper in love with you.
The third, are my hands so whenever you become scared you can wrap them around you and keep you safe.
When you're sad you can use them to comfort you.
The fourth, is my strength.
Whenever you become weary, I will carry you to safety.
I will help you in all future en-devours.
The fifth is a pinky swear.
I will never do anything to hurt you again.
You will always be apart of what made me who I am.
That will never change.
The sixth is my beating heart.
Feel as my pulse speeds every time I hear your name,
Or the sound of your voice.
Feel as it would almost explode every time I felt your lips against mine.
The last, is my love, which courses through each of the others, in everything they do.
My eternal love no matter the circumstances.
Take this box and do whatever you wish with it.
Please treat it with care.
I know this may seem like a burden now,
Since you probably don't want it,
but, I just ask you hold onto it,
At least for a while.
Maybe one day you'll realize your importance to me.

Nameless

I'm pissed; I'm done.
Get out of this house.
Before I end it my way.
You stomp around this house like,
You're stronger,
Faster,
Smarter,
Ha! You're none of those.
You're the food stuck between my teeth.
I spit you out.
Uncaring of you.
I don't even remember your name.
You're dirt between my nails.
I pick you out when I finally realize you're there.
You're nothing,
An overweight hypocrite.
About to go nowhere.
Making no lasting Impact.
In reality, me writing this,
Is counterproductive.
I'll forget about you in a minute.
That is a promise I will keep.
When will you realize?
You're life's hard work is comparable to a fallacy.
You'll never realize.
You're too ignorant.

One Day

You say that one day, you'll make a change.
You say that one day, you'll help those in need.
You say that one day, you'll stop making fun of people
You say it like you really mean it.
Like the  pathetic, meaningless,  words that come out of your mouth actually mean something.


You say that one day, you'll make a difference.
You say that one day, you'll make things right.
You say that one day, things will get better.
But how can you say that when the only person you've helped is yourself.


You say that one day, your songs will inspire others
But the only thing you write about is your sadness.
You say that one day, you will stop doing drugs and alcohol.
But the only thing I ever hear about you is getting drunk or high.


You continue talking about one day, but why can't that be today.
You look like a schizophrenic, spitting senseless stupidity.
Thinking you'll make a difference talking.
Unless I see you standing in front of thousands.
Stop talking,
Start doing.

Unique Mistakes.

Uniqueness is a word tossed around quite a lot now-a-days.

The idea that we are all different in the way we act-the things we say.

We are unique.

It’s like a snowflake, they all look very different from each other but you can always count on them having six sides.

We all think, act, and speak differently but you can always count on us being humans.

We are all humans who make mistakes.

Each mistake, changing the world’s tides.

Each of us have our own unique lists of mistakes some similar, but always different.

It’s time for us all the take ownership of these mistakes.

No more time for excuses.

This world is getting tired of our abuses.

So are other people.

When we say don’t dwell on the past it doesn’t mean you forget about it and act like it was never there.

We still need to fix them; if your mistakes were your clothing what would you have to wear?

By now I think you’ve realized I’m not talking about the simple mistakes.

I’m talking about the ones that purposefully hurt other people.

Some of you may not even think of them as mistakes.

Through your actions,

Some of the simplest words can make their day.

While others put a stake into their heart,

Don’t let your words or actions destroy another’s life.

We are all unique people.

Don’t let someone’s differences be their undoing,

Use this to do the smoothing of those tattered clothes you’re wearing.

Help them to make themselves feel better about whom they are.

We have been sitting to long.

It’s time to stand and defend those hurting around us.

This poem is about uniqueness.

Embrace the unique people around you.

Don’t despise them.

Don’t wear the tattered clothing that are your mistakes.

Slow Down Teens!

You know, being a teenager, it may seem like many of my poems are quite sad.

But being young isn’t always bad.

 It means the opportunities of life are just beginning to present themselves to us.

For some it even means not more riding the bus. WOO!

It’s a time for us all to mold into whatever kind of person we want.

Make stupid decisions, who wouldn’t want to taunt policemen all day?

Getting grotesque gouges and showing mom, through gestulations as to how you received it.

Scaring mom half to death for doing stupid stuff, it's good to know they really care right?

Going to all the different concerts you can think of and banging your head up and down not worried about who sees!

We do this because we’re teenagers and right now these are the keys to life.

Moronically moving, making my mind up as to what kind of food I want.

Knowing no magnitude of meat will ever really change how much I weigh.

The joys of being a teenager are endless.

Walking into a room I call my own and the mess within.

Most adults I know don’t have quite the same luxuries.

All those adults that we should look for; they are exemplary.

I have finally begun to realize why it’s so important to cherish this time of being young.

Sooner or later I will become stung with the harsh realities of adulthood.

But it will tell you now I am far from ready for the responsibilities.

I speak to all the teenagers who can’t wait to become an adult slow down!

You have the rest of your life to be an adult and once you’re in you’ll be bound forever.

Take it slow, speculating to everything you can!

Suttel's Mind

I think I’m lost.

Or maybe I just don’t want to find the way out at all.

This hodgepodge of thoughts make it easy to “lose” myself.

I can hide from the onslaught of people like the dusty books on your shelf.

But, fortunately or is it unfortunately, there is a select few willing to risk cleaning off the dust.

That’s not even the weird part yet.

For some reason or another, the select few even find this hodgepodge of ideas worth reading.


They open it up and notice the fragmented pieces that clutter through out it.
Interesting but confused at the same time they search through.
It makes me squint
It's not like me to let people in to the disaster.
Unfortunately or is it fortunately I'm no longer the sole master.
Now a part owner.

How could anyone want to see into my brain?

Even to its creator I can understand it being a strain to understand.

I’m not the creator but I am its resident and I sure as hell can’t really figure it completely out.

These select few flip through every page of the open book and can’t wait to read the next page.

Who would want to read a book full of just random sentences? None really fitting together.

They are anomalies leaching onto my brain and are planning on staying till the last page.

These anomalies are taking over; writing themselves into the dusty old book on the shelf.

They are turning it into something much more beautiful.

Slowly putting everything in its proper place.

Finally giving me a reason to want to navigate it.

That book on the shelf is no longer just a jumble of words.

It’s a beautiful book with an intricate front page and not just one author, but several.

All these authors somehow enjoy every minute of putting this very extensive book together.

Soon, the not yet finished book will be ready to put on display.

Whipping off all the dust, and giving it a proper name.

Suttel’s Mind.


If you think about it,
It's not right to call it Suttel's Mind.
I might have been the original resident,
But there's a couple people who decided to share the rent.
Just as aware of what going on as I.
Knowing all my mistakes and accomplishments.
Documenting them because I usually forget.
But being the humble people they are,
They pretend like they played no part.
Beautiful people and
Beating with one beautiful heart.


Suttel's Mind,
Written by the kind.
All of them have shined
When I said they should be added to the tittle,
 They respectively declined.
No one else would have.
Just shows how great the other authors are.
The perfectly appointed pundit of Suttel's Mind.

Mother's day. (Something small for all the cool moms out there!)

Mothers, the single most important people on this earth.
I have a feeling it's extremely hard giving birth;
But it doesn't stop there for them,
That’s just the stem.

They have to deal with us crying,
All we want to do is stay with them, binding
Shortly after all we want to do is get away.
There’s no way to make us stay.

This continues for quite a few years
Denying everything, sometimes setting them to tears.
I haven’t fully left this stage 
But I’ve taken a couple steps from the cage.

What happens next is what’s really frightening;
Leaving.
For years they raise their children 
They do this even knowing what’s going to happen.

Mom, you are the greatest person to ever live.
You do nothing but forgive!

Light

It's the blinding light down a tunnel.
The flashing through you eyes and into your soul.
No longer able to see, you have to stumble along.
You can't just push away your pains by a song.
It's time to be the light.


People will want you to be "Up-tight"
They start to measure everything based on the brightness.
If you can't do it right, you're now considered light less.
They're expecting us the be great.
They want us to learn from their every mistake.


But where does that leave room for our own?
It seems to me our life has already been sewn.
I want to shine a light. But one of my own devising.
Our time has come; the light is rising.


Our time for choices is coming to and end
Time to put them all in and hit send.
If you want to be there light, like just slipping on their flesh.
All you have to do is hit refresh.

Stand

Where is the variation?
Why stop trying?
Why the questions?
Why can't you stop asking?
It's not always about being right.
You don't have to always know.
You don't always have to make an exact path to your destination.
Put something new into your life.
Why are you so afraid?
Why do you have to do everything right?
When did you switch from improvisation to a lined script?
Where's the fun?




You need to find true happiness.
Not something fabricated out of someone else's mind.
You're not going to find it doing everything everyone tells you.
You're a robot under control.
Why won't you take control?
Why do you always say yes to everything?
Why can't you take a chance?
When will you stand up?


Stand up.
You've been on your stomach to long.
Take a look at how the world has changed.
You let others do the thinking.
Can you create you own idea?
Where does plagiarism end and you begin?
Is it ignorance or arrogance?
When will you see or are you blind?


Open your eyes.
Let them see.
Let them absorb this beautiful world.
It's better to have experienced and made mistakes, than not at all.