don't mock me with your tone. Don't sift through the mistakes I've made, don't ask me how it goes.
It seems to me you've seen it all, your fortunes well in tow. But you're blind to the most certain fact, there's always room to grow.
for the lark
He collects from the circle
and takes the walk
He's the fastest
and he has ID.
Soon the circle
will be comfortable
and somewhat blind
and the bottles will empty
and rabbit runs again
Stacked lines on bridge mounts
and graffiti on concrete revetments
Women who spit... poems read aloud and they were wonderful
The title put me in mind of a really old poem I wrote many years back and i found a version I typed up 27/06/2013 about my childhood self and an odd habit I developed one of many I must confess I called it 'spitting...
Something happened to my pink umbrella, baby
It was raining down from the sky
I felt ill, and wanted to die
My pink umbrella, baby
The sun was shining, baby
My pink umbrella lost itself
And I wanted to shine
With knife sharp words or slamming doors.
For any time I've caused you pain,
By shutting my life off again.
To you, I say I'm sorry for,
All the pain that you endured.
My words were harsh, reactions quick.
To close you off with one mouse click.
It's not your fault...
Tired of these holes in our backs from carrying these burdens of the past,
Tired of the people who judge what they cannot understand,
Tired of feeling guilty for standing up for myself,
Tired of standing divided,
Tired of the superior attitude of shallow people,
Both of us
Hard for me.
I loved every
When to let go.
That I won't...
With patience, I wait till I'm no longer alive.
I have to be patient and live out my days.
God has a purpose, is all people say.
Yes, there are days when my life's full of bliss.
Days that I'm happy, content, and all this.
Days filled with love. I wouldn't wish it away...
soo sad to be soo smart, but always fall for the line
knew it was wrong, but still tried to make it right
so i ended up alone ,needing you every night
the thing that hurts so bad also hurts soo good
my pain was my pleasure n u were the one that understood
What is a word
Without a voice
What is a thought
Without a feeling
I thought I knew
All I needed to
Until I realized
I didn’t know you
The way I want to
The way I dream of
Still here I am
…your next word
tried to touch it
I tried to jump around it
I tried to keep it in my art
But it didn't matter
The thought was gone
Gone with the wind
Gone for the day
I really tried to jump
And then sad songs here, there and everywhere
Sad songs pouring from the sky
Like sugar in my manmade tea
How many raindrops, baby
How many sad songs for you and me?
Drink your tea
Drink your water and be happy, happy and free
than a person
Facebook...the dream was singing to my art
I decided to write bad poetry
It fitted my mood of the day
Facebook - oh so clever
An open book
Full of secrets
For all to see
Secrets for you and me
Joy in my heart
Pain in my art
Millions of users
and hate, I dreamed a dream of my sweet escape,
My fate on a string,
My heart on a ring,
My head in my hands,
The time through the sands,
The world became cold as I watched you bend and fold the tattered pieces of my life,
With tears in my eyes I realise it was all lies...
on a cold wet winters day
and I remember places
and loved ones faces
they all seem so far away
I don't really care if your reasoning
tells you that I am strange
cause your red neck ways
won't leave you room
to face the tides of change
It's ignorance and hypocrisy
I am constantly wondering what might happen if you knew that my smile isn't shatter proof, that my love is overwhelming, that I am human to my core and that I'm scared of everything. Will you run as soon as you see the ugliness in me? Are you immune to the guiles of my...
She looks down at her weary hands.
They ache from the toils of the day.
For every day they lovingly hold many lives,
Gladly being the hand of love,
The hand of kindness,
The hand of patience,
And the hand of sacrifice.
Grateful to to give...
things they said, the THINGS they said!answers I so desperately seekchurn and burn and grind my souloscillating, spinning beyond my mind's controllay me bare, between the beauty and the darkdeeper and deeper and deeper I sinkdissecting and ripping and tearing and screamingmy...
To whom it may concern.
I LOVE your warm and caring heart...
I LOVE the way you rip and tear mine apart...
~I LOVE YOU~
I LOVE your kind and loving gentle words...
I LOVE the way the harsh ones make me hurt...
~I LOVE YOU~
I LOVE all your honesty and truth...
I LOVE the cold...
Weary and worn out, I don't know where to begin,
The fading sun has left a lonely man with nothing more then a shadow of a grin,
Battered and bruised and often misused,
Forever left in darkness and often abused,
Life has no meaning with nothing to lose,
Time has made its...
or not but it is my first poem. Here goes nothing.
For there I lay in bed dreaming.
Not asleep but merely pondering the life ahead of me.
My thoughts are screaming and will not let me be.
The failures throughout my life racing through my head had me steaming.
it seems a simple thing..
wasn't a Lamborghini, or a condominium...
A first-class trip to Paris, or even a county fair..
and if i were to tell him,
he probably wouldn't understand....
he said I should probably wash it.....
It smells a bit you see,
(and it does)
But it smells...
I can't remember now if I took it because I thought it would be a "bunny" class or if it was required for my Early Childhood Education degree. Doesn't matter really. It turned out to be very significant.
The professor looked like a biker gnome: short, stocky, long white hair...
and stretch upward.
Plump, golden, lovely in your simplicity.
You imagine that maybe, possibly...
You just might be beautiful.
You just might be important.
You just might be wanted.
But then, without notice...
You’re cut down.
You're absently trampled...
Immoral, Impossible, God only knows
How tenors and basses, sopranos, altos
At service on Sunday are rarely the same
As those who on Thursday to choir practice came.
Unready, unable to sight read the notes
Nor counting, nor blending, they tighten their throats
had nothing in particular to say
he forced his stacked lines
and on occasion some rhymes
nothing in several shades of gray
He spoke of an illusive muse
and a starving white sea
things that never were
and things that used to be.
The word wielding ghost
remembers bouncing checks...
freedom to my eyes
to touch and hear and see and feel
without fear of fate or compromise
give me this moment to call my own
to give and take to appreciate or ignore
this moment alone is all I ask
and then one moment more.
When they write
Dis. joint. ed
Random flowery words
Space them like
Like a cluster that is meant to be
They call it poetry
and took all my beer
The dishes the CDs,and eight tracks ,I fear
The laptop and flatscreen a mere prolog
To finding you also carried off the dog
You done me wrong you deflated my ego
Was that any way to say,Adios,amigo?
I spent all of thesse days in a semi on the interstate