Losing yourself to someone new,
Looking down over a dusty pew.
Only by the knowledge of slim to few,
While they wait lined up in a dingy cue.
An uprising in a whailing line,
At the exodus hoping things turn out fine.
The collection of vibration,
From a rastaman's creation.
The cap only seemed to fit,
While lazily working the night shift.
Crazy baldheaded men going to war,
Feeling possative vibrations on the way to the store.
Pleading someone "cry to me",
Because the rat race was to hard to see.
Johny was, Roots, rock and reggae,
Wanting more of the things on display.
Pimpers paradise seemed so long.
We and them singing reemption song.
Coming in from the cold after work
After the zion train with a subtle smirk.
Pulled the bad card,
Made things quite hard.
Considering the context
I'd say it has something to do with self-reflection
Or Orwellian Dystopias
I just can't decide which...
What is certain
Is that it's not about love
Perhaps a Eulogy
Sung in the Key of abstraction
Perhaps a snare of low cunning
Sprung on the unwary
Perhaps a dissonant reconstruction of post-modern proletarianism
Or other such big words
Not about love
Is about the errant nature of nature
About pinning still fluttering butterflies to dry-wall
About scribbling half-drunk non-sense on the wall of a bathroom stall because it's the only way to keep yourself from screaming
Is about sleeping with the lights on
But it is not
I'll be missing you
You said you were leaving
But I cant believe its true
I cannot look into the eyes I love
And say good-bye to you
I will always remember the feelings
That we shared on that first day
The feeling that our love was true
And would never go away
I know your love is gone now
And I must start my life anew
I must find a way to hear your words
And move forward without you
I'll wonder if you'll think of me
Or the love we once shared
With a broken heart I write these word
For how much I truly care
As you look back on the memory
Of our love that was once true
Please know that while you're far away
I'll be missing you
Carl J. Roberts
I hear voices..Telling me to do wrong,
Take a life and make it last long,
A serial murders life is what I'm living,
Insane I never said I liked living,
Death on my breath every step I take may be your last,
Beware of a person who will kill your ass!!
I'm foul make you release your bowels,
Gun smoke is my favorite smell,
Yellow tape a body and a police report,
No remorse you will never see me in court,
Case closed, call it an unsolved mystery,
In my own way I'm leaving my mark on history,
There are just too many voices in my brain,
That's why I'm killing everyone cause I'm just insane,
11 o clock where are the children?
If I find them I'm sure to be killing them,
wrapping them up, marking their grave,
A finger or a news clip is all I save,
My beginning is your end my intent is to weed out humanity
If I get caught I'll plead reason of insanity.....
This is just the way it is.
Now do what I said.
Im sure the world will end today
Its the beginning of the fall
Others will tell the story
And pass it on to all
I'm not sure that I will hear the news
But I'll hear others on their phones
They will talk about the days events
And wonder if I know
Now im sure that this will happen
For the day started just all wrong
I realized as I drove to work
And almost turned to go back home
That empty seat beside me
Showed that I was all alone
I didnt exit on the ramp
My half way point was gone
Now I'll spend my day waiting
And hope the world will not fall
I know that you can feel my pain
For I just left my phone at home.
P.S. No worries, I got home and only three missed calls.
your eyes crisp like
an arctic wind
of refreshing allure
you've captivated me
I want you the same way
I want air for breath
or life for death
basking in the
penumbra of your
your touch tastes of sweet maple candies and smells of rain clouds
from gusts of bliss
Encompassing love floods my psyche
lost in an empty dream
your beauty crashes towards the shore as restless waves from a roaring ocean roar
you're beauty; floating like the sun
soft spoken secrets slice through the silence
like coffee-breathed cannonballs
sent shamelessly into the space between
who we are
and how we seem
the smile in your eyes makes it seem
as if you really see me
pinned bemeath a perfect blue egyptian cotton sky
and a lake-shore brown box-sping earth
you stretch yourself thin
thin as eyelash lace across a freckled chest
thin enough to let the sunshine gleam through
through all your light and magic
reflecting pure stardust onto my my blank screened chest
i've never felt as beautiful
as is to be tangled up in you
extremities snagging one another
in a devine blend
of feverish feinding
and open-eyed dreaming
i'd trade my unsteady pulse
for every day to begin this way
drenched in poetry
and morning dew
and crazed grinning
this is the beging of a story
that i quite like
Sweetheart silent killer manifests all inside my mind,
The moon’s a magnifying glass as it rises in the sky.
At 2 a.m. it giggles, a thick knife in its teeth,
And drops it down into my head as I lie underneath.
The glass I keep so carefully to remain erect in the day,
Shatters and releases a burning, breathing self-assay.
A kaleidoscope catoptric, all frets out in the free,
A band of thought-filled thieves invade to steal my sleep from me.
Tossing and turning beneath the stars, I’ll wait til I burn out,
At night my brain is flooding and in daylight there’s a drought.
Lullaby myself with tears, wake up way too late,
Stuck as an insomniac, suicide’s sweet bait.
I wish I was an autumn leaf, I’d float into the sky,
And every fall I’d have the opportunity to die.
I don’t want to die, I just want to dream,
Instead of replaying my sick realities that make me want to scream.
But this will still all stay the same as my brain and blood run white,
I’ll feed myself with Satan’s sugar, the depressed primrose of the night.
Maybe we’re all just snowflakes; nothing more than crystallized water from above, doomed to finally land and melt into nothing. We are snowflakes, plowed and pushed by what is bigger so that we may be out of its way. We are all falling through a path fated from the start with a fluffy and slow descent, and an ending we all see coming. Thousands fall each minute, and each one is unique. But we’d never know if a snowflake four miles away is identical or not. Who could prove it? They tell us that is the truth, so we catch it on our tongues and swallow down the minuscule truth. We are snowflakes. And it makes me sad.