because they are scary;
but because the reaction might be weary.
We face society,
With the frustrations of anxiety.
To determine the speculation of what may be.
But face the fact,
We all react,
To what society claims reality,
In what becomes our morality.
Lying in the cushioned pit of my doings-Shrouded in the mental entrapment that keeps me warm:I grow cold and shiver from my frost-bitten hopes.I simmer with my pot of boiling ideas,Spilling them clumsily on the burning hob of cynicismUntil they fry to a black smoking crisp that...
Not understanding. I've had enough.
voice so BIG
Can't catch a grasp.
What does it mean
The message untold.
Night and day
decaying my life.
Get out, I scream!
Again I shout,
I wrote this poem when my wife and I moved to our first house together. Nyth Bach Ni, is Welsh for Our Little Nest
IN ALL MY LIFETIME I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD BE
IN A SMALL PIECE OF HEAVEN CALLED 'NYTH BACH NI
A HAVEN OF PEACE FROM LIFE'S WEAR AND TEAR
AND A BEAUTIFUL...
Heavy weighted, heavy heartfelt hatred
Underestimated, undeniably aggravated
And amazement that I made it – thus far
With the help of “Rock of Ages”
Always tested, alwas second guessed
Never got emancipated – like “Mimi”
My dreams are daunting,
my nightmares haunt me,
Past vivid memories taunt me.
My mind is weary and discombobulated
My thoughts are scattered, erratic, always agitated.
Walking down that boulevard of broken dreams,
despair envelopes me,hope is fleeting,
all that's left is agony...
you cross the line and create a new scar
What happens when it's too hard of a game
To ruin yourself and stare at the remains
When you fought so hard down to the limbs
And you feel like your world is about to cave in
You say you are strong
When your body is weak
It won't be long...
But it doesn't ******* matter.
I fake a laugh. But it doesn't ******* matter.
I sit on the edge. But it doesn't ******* matter
I have no one to talk to. But it doesn't ******* matter.
I don't sleep. But it doesn't ******* matter.
No one notices. But it doesn't ******* matter.