"Thorned coronet or a spine ridden diadem
Columns of my vertebrae you rowed up to the side of them
And slid a braquemard, home plated, in my diaphragm
Brutus to a Julius or Cassius to a caligula
You're shaking when you speak and you act rather ambiguous
Piteous pit falling I'm spitballing
And ballin up all of my shit
With a straw on my lips"
i am not your diadem, i wear that crown
beside no man
and i made you a diagram, warned how i felt
bout lion men
these days i get inside of them
and make their caves abandoned dens
and slay the sly clawed underhands
who tried to eat the wunderkid
you see these eyes? don’t lie to them
i’ll shoot the guy who tries to land
a bullseye in my vibrant lens
you’re crawling back to call me sin
not violent, i'm just not contending
i will not be rendered weapon
when i’m more like armageddon
in the body of a woman
if history was written off the way that you wanted
i’d be a trident in the hands of a tyrant, loveless
and you would be a poor king, so innocently luckless
recklessly denying of each bloody broken promise
so if we’re drawing from the vein of the kings and crowns
let history go ahead and repeat itself now
i’ll be the advisor to the feckless frown
'til the body count draws out a map of the grounds
behind the scenes yeah i can see you now
if you wanna save the city you can go 'head and put that ego down
and no, this isn’t ‘bout battle or them soldier crowds
it’s ‘bout what’s better for the people in this starving town
so i will play your brutus and survive with stealth
ides of march around the bend, you love your pedestal
sic semper tyrannis, you declared it yourself
et tu brute? yeah i’m just here to help
its been two long years since you were released
but know in my heart i could never blaime you in the least
we were a tourchured family to never find love
but this is what either dreams or hate can be made of
even when i saw your eyes roll back and the blood on the knife with your marijuana pipe so black from the residue packed
you cut till your arms were just red
then smoked enough to leave a teenage stoner in bed
i dont blaime you for either, you were hurt and you needa cope
but was tradeing the love of your fucking son worth that toke
you were my mother, supposed to hold and love me
but i found myself being yelled at thinking im just unlucky
still i guess i could of looked for love from my father
but he was to busy showing love to his two daughters
i was to dumb, couldnt sing a song, to him i ddnt belong
so you ignored my exsistance for many long years till it braught me to tears
but where are we now after i lived a long 18 years
dad look your oldest daughter left and your youngest you only hear hate underneath the tone of her breath
so i guess im all you have left to bail you out this mess you left
so now to watch over these two as if they were as delicate as children, they have only me to watch over them as my mom bleeds and my dad cant breath the weight of debt needs to be repaid i dont know what else but you will regret how you treated me when im gone one day
momma maybye i just want you to stop with the drugs
looking everywhere just trying to find a buzz
till you look at your son amd forgot who he was
tired of goin to bed everynight to never sleep
keeping one eye open in case i have to call n emt
nearly watched you die remember that moment and i still fuckin cry
so i lay with a knife to my throat livin a lie knowing i jus wanna die
so this is my last birthday song remember when i saw love in your eyes now im jus tryin to get by
Am I bad at making sentences that are? Palindromes… are that: Sentences making at bad.
Importantly, however, words not letters are what go backwards and forwards in just this poem. This just in: forwards and backwards. Go! What? Are letters not words? However importantly...
It is that thing beckoning us to come away, far from things other than different parts inside us,
leading us with its inspiration to places within ourselves, taking us from Earth to 1 page,
making us believe something that we don’t know. Know. Don’t we? That something. Believe us.
Making page 1: To – Earth From – us
Taking ourselves within places to inspiration.
It’s with us,
Leading us inside parts different than other things from far away.
Come to us, beckoning thing.
That is it.
I am waiting on the edge
of the time
that we have spent
Spent so that it is
dead, tired and dry,
Am I meant
to scrape around the corners
of dusty pockets to find
a new reason to buy
another worthless minute?
Or instead Should I
to see what's left inside
What you are worth,
what I can take
And try to turn
that I desire
Love cannot be forged
on a budget
and our time is now up,
every second has been spent.
Up above my head
there is a place
and it's just there
Up Above My Head.
I don't know who I am, what I am, where I've been
These memories are coming as if through sludge
Dedication to the planned obsolescence of our lives
Burn bright to burn out quick
Before they see what we've done here
There's a face haunting me with no name I can trace
Bright red lips just begging me to remember the taste
Death's sitting on her shoulder head shaking in disgrace
I guess it's alright to forget we're part of the human race
And just focus on the fact we're so full of hate
Racing to the end of the hall where I remember the fall
No stairs to meet my descent I tumble like a bouncing ball
Dust off my knees I'm sure I was wrong you seemed so pleased
As my broken bones sink into the mud at my feet
I'll see if I can find a place where we can meet
In tired moment we'll hold ourselves close
Clinging to memories that might not even be real
I don't remember anymore if I forgot
The silence in this embrace is haunting
Why can't I remember your face.
Watch out, this girls heartless
She takes out her insults
And blood she does draw..
Because she holds on to tight, to her victims..
And loses sight of herself
She always hurts someone
Even though she just try's to help..
And despite how much she gives to others
She can't give something
That was stripped bare
She can't give her heart, if it never really was there..
This is over a boy
Yep that's me..
“I feel very dependent on people’s mood and that’s a really bad addiction because you’re always expecting something good when it’s not up to your own actions.
You think people can make you happy but the thing is
They don’t even know how you feel about them and most of the time, they just don’t fucking care.
They like you for a day and find you annoying.
When they see you, they’re smiling but they hate you in secret.
They wanna make you believe you’re a nice person
But stab you in the back when they talk to other people.
What’s gone wrong I wonder and who are they?
I found out they were closer than I’d like to own up.
My neighbors, my classmates
Former friends or students I’ve talked to once cause they asked for my help.
They’re everywhere and think the same.
They swear on truth but their mouths speak poison
Their eyes are snakes and whatever they say, it’s a lie that comes out.
How can they be honest when they’re lying to themselves?
They don’t know about love, about trust.
I hate how they pretend to be free when they’re just lost but they don’t know it
They’re ignorant and they’re mean and I’m so sick of their tricks
I’d do anything to make them see it.
It’s hurtful and destructive
The anger won't wear off
And I wanna stop believing they know what they’re capable of.
Someday they’ll wake up and realize it’s useless to claim they don’t care
Cause they don’t know it but they do.
That’s a thing they hate to admit but they should.
And it’s alright to be weak
Being true isn’t a flaw.
Stop kicking your heart so hard
It’s just waiting for you to grow".
Stood way out there,
And ran all his fingers
Through his hair.
He took a deep breath
As the morning arose,
Smiling so wide
That it wrinkled his nose.
He saw on the horizon
A crackle of rain -
And touches of dew
Resting on his new cane.
But when Thurgood paused
And peered over his lawn,
And studied his yard
In the new light of dawn,
He kicked at his heel
Like an old Mother Hen.
And he grumbled aloud,
"Oh no, not again!"
He followed the Quiltwork
Patch Grass to the side,
Where the Fennilen Fern
And the Trugg usually hide,
Through the green, where
The collups and roses were set,
All needing a pruning he
Hadn't faced yet.
And there it was,
Still tugging the string,
That wicked and
Pimply pompous old thing.
Standing there near the hill,
Right beside an old post,
Where it could drink in the morning,
And gaze down the coast.
"Five times you've been planted,"
Said good Fenwick that day.
He was well wearied and worn.
His head almost gray.
"You did not like the corner,
Where the daffodils grow.
You did not care for the tulips,
Row upon row."
"You turned away from the Ivy
That climbs to the sea.
You are a most contentious,
And troublesome tree."
"Was the fence near the gate
Not a worthy estate?
That you had to pull free,
And run toward the sea?"
"The poplars were kind,
But you turned clear away.
I wonder just what
You are thinking today."
But the tree did not nod,
As far as Thurgood could tell.
For it could taste the sweet ocean,
And feel her waves swell.
It watched the soft moon
Drifting low in the sky,
And stretched out its branches
Ever so high.
And Thurgood shook his head,
And with an inkling of pride
Said, "Does this make you happy?"
And he smiled wide.
He turned on his heels,
And watched the soft sea.
Today there was quiet
Along this emerald key.
Her waves gently licking
The shoreline hello,
And morningtime greeting
Her usual glow.
"It is a nice view,"
He heard himself say.
As dawn gently tap-tapped
To nature's soiree.
And he grinned, "You old codger.
Have it your way.
And a good mornin' to you.
I believe this is your day."
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
"Even if I knew that tomorrow
the world would go to pieces,
I would still plant my apple tree."
Just a few short months
That's all that's passed
But still I feel I've grown
Even if just the slightest bit
Sometimes all it takes
Is a new setting
and new a place
My eyes have opened
I know how lucky I've been
My family loves me
And I love them
This is all that is really needed
But I have so much more
A home to go to
Friends to smile with
Some don't even have a smile
Some don't have a home
Or a family that loves them
Yet I am fortunate enough to have this