Jordan Antonacci's Blog, page 52

Poem: Do You See Me Now?

Trigger warning

I could scream

I could shout

Nobody in this world

would hear a sound

I could be

in your face

unleashing everything

all of my pain

And after pretending

you didnt see a thing

you’d casually turn

and walk away

Maybe if I went

into a crowd

and put a barrel

to my crown

Tell me, tell me

everybody around

do you, oh do you

see me now?

Only after

I’m put in my grave

would you then have

something to say

“Only if

he could’ve been saved

Only if

he would’ve just said hey”

Tell me, tell me

everybody around

do you, oh do you

see me now?

I feel my poems gradually getting darker. It’s strange, because I’m actually in a decent place mentally.

Disclaimer: In no way am I attempting to romanticize suicide, nor am I in any way encouraging such an act. My poems are simply self-expression; nothing else.

Thanks for reading!

Jordan Antonacci

[image error]Me and my wonderful Mama

PS. If you guys are up for it, please do check out my last post, in which, I posted a song I wrote (rap). I think I’m getting better

I’ve written a new song

It’s dark, I know

Let me know what you think

Poem: Tears in the Rain

Whenever it would rain

he’d sit outside

watch the sky change

from day to night

He’d let the rain

flow down his face

and hide everything

he could not say

All of his shame

All of his pain

Everything that made him think

he was not okay

Where he didn’t need

to live in fear

of anyone seeing

the flooding of his tears

Though skies were clouded

his emotions were clear

Though the rain and tears

made a flood

he did not care

for he made a boat

a boat which

he could steer

a boat, which could take him

anywhere

Whenever it would rain

he’d sit outside

watch the sky change

as he cried

Hey everyone! Thanks for stopping by MrHushHush Entries; hope you liked today’s poem. I know it seemed a bit sad, but it was actually meant to be sorta uplifting toward the end. Ha-ha

Sick of people doubting me

But it’s fine. Because every time I hear doubt, it only puts fuel to the flame. It only pushes me harder. Only pushes me harder to prove them wrong.

Stop telling me to play it safe. Stop lecturing me about putting all my eggs in one basket, and stop telling me that my dream is my fucking backup plan.

The way I see it, if I’m not living my dream or if I’m not chasing my dream, then what the fuck am I living for? Wasting 8 hours a day doing something to make you happy is not living—it’s dying. If I’m not living my dream then I’m not living. I have one life. I have ONE opportunity to live the life I want to live. To live it to the fullest and be happy.

I’m not here to do what everyone else does. I’m not here to follow rules and I’m definitely not here to play it safe. Life is FAR too short for playing it safe. How do you play it safe when you grow to become aware of how brief our moment here is?

So many people have let themselves settle into the routine of waking up miserable, driving through morning traffic to their dead-end 9-5’s, then sitting in a zombie-like trance as they wait for 8 hours of their lives to pass so they can go home and spend a few hours watching TV before having to do it all over again. I lived that life. FUCK THAT. That’s too many hours in my day being miserable that I’m not getting back. Too many hours wasted that could be spent pursuing something I love to do.

I’m not just here to live. I’m here to thrive. To chase my dreams and give it EVERYTHING I have so I don’t end up haunted by the regret that I could’ve done more. Wonder if I could’ve made it if I had only tried a little harder.

Not a lot of people seem to understand that time is the most valuable currency. When we’re born, we’re given a wallet with a set amount of seconds in it. Never does that number increase, but it does decrease. Every second that passes is a second we can never get back. I’m done wasting my time.

This isn’t your life. I understand you don’t understand or support my decisions, but I’m not going to choose my paths solely on what you’d be most comfortable with and proud of. At least not anymore. This is my life and I’m living it for me. Call it selfish, call it narcissistic, call it stuck-up, call it whatever you want. I call it being happy.

I’ll chase this till the end. Even if I don’t make it, I’d still rather die trying and flat broke than live a life I don’t care for.

Thanks for reading,

Jordan Antonacci

Photography by Jordan Antonacci (ya boy)

Tip Jar

A Literary Agent made contact – vlog video

After the agent lady made contact, I had a bit of work to do. Whether I held onto my sanity or not is still in question.

Poem: A Final Goodbye

Trigger warning

He made a gun

with his hand

and put the barrel

to his head

With a sigh

he closed his eyes

and found relief

in a final goodbye

He was on the edge

and didn’t mind going over

He already felt dead

and couldn’t get any colder

Plus life never fed

his need

his hunger

“One day

I’ll go away

Why not

make it today?”

He was tired

and oh so weak

and found peace in the thought

of an eternal sleep

He never believed

in any religion

but prayed to see

his family again

He made a gun

with his hand

and put the barrel

to his head

“Bang”

he said

Disclaimer: This piece is not meant to glorify or romanticize suicide, nor is it meant to encourage such an act.

This is a piece simply written from a side of depression most aren’t familiar with. As someone who deals with mental illness regularly, I believe it’s sometimes necessary to see all sides.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the poem, please like and follow along

A poem: “Bang,” he said

Trigger warning

He made a gun

with his hand

and put the barrel

to his head

With a sigh

he closed his eyes

and found relief

in a final goodbye

He was on the edge

and didn’t mind going over

He already felt dead

and couldn’t get any colder

Plus life never fed

his need

his hunger

“One day

I’ll go away

Why not

make it today?”

He was tired

and oh so weak

and found peace in the thought

of an eternal sleep

He never believed

in any religion

but prayed to see

his family again

He made a gun

with his hand

and put the barrel

to his head

“Bang”

he said

Disclaimer: This piece is not meant to glorify or romanticize suicide, nor is it meant to encourage such an act.

This is a piece simply written from a side of depression most aren’t familiar with. As someone who deals with mental illness regularly, I believe it’s sometimes necessary to see all sides.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the poem, please like and follow along

Poem: Dead Inside

He never truly

felt alive

But at the same time

never quite like

he’d ever died

The truth was

the boy lived a life

in which he always felt

dead inside

And the worst part

was that he never knew

why

Thank you guys for stopping by MrHushHush Entries; I hopes you liked the poetry.

If you read my previous post you know that a literary agent contacted me the other night requesting a full manuscript of my book The Killed Conscience. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for years. This morning I sent it in. I’ll keep you all updated!

Also, you may have noticed my tip jar in the sidebar. I’ve never been one to ask for money but I’ve recently begun a journey that’s testing my bank account. I quit my job to further pursue my dreams (music, writing) full-time. Hopefully this book takes off, but right now I’m sleeping on the hardwood floor of my friends extra vacant house. Details are in other posts and my vlog. But yeah, you can hit the arrows to determine how many dollars… EVERY cent is appreciated. Thank you guys for your support.

If you liked the poem, please like and follow along

Jordan Antonacci

Photography by Jordan Antonacci (ya boy)

An Agent has requested a full manuscript!

When I finished writing THE KILLED CONSCIENCE I emailed several agents… then I got too impatient and decided to just self publish the thing.

So, these last two weeks have been quite interesting, exciting, and terrifying at the same time. I started a vlog that opened my eyes to a lot, then I quit my job, moved to TN, and decided to sleep on the floor of a vacant house while I pursue my dreams of writing and music full time.

Last night at midnight I was writing another song when I got an email. An agent. Another rejection I thought. As I went to delete the email, I realized it looked different from other rejections. I skimmed through it and saw it was missing an “unfortunately…”

Instead, it said “request”. I lost it. Was up till 3 unable to sleep.

[image error]

I always hope for the best but expect the worst. Regardless, this is a first for me.

I’ll let you all know what happens!

Jordan

Poem: A Thunderous Hunger

This hunger

This hunger, it is unlike

any other

In my stomach

I feel the rumble

storming in, like a

rolling thunder

Through the trees

like an icy breeze

crashing down, like

a tsunami

You hear the drumming, and

you hear the trumpets

The dreams are calling

like a summons

With a hunger

matching starvation

this is everything

I’ve been craving

This hunger

This hunger, it is unlike

any other

Thanks for stopping by MrHushHush Entries, hope you liked the poem!

Like and follow along