Break your knuckle on a steel gate
Get drunk at work
Destroy your lover's things but not your lover
Shave your head completely
Listen to everyone talk about RHCP
Mention John Frusciante solo work being really good
Acquire very wet ******* from a man in a trench coat
Opt out for cable and go to the bars to watch the game
Blow *** into your roommate's cat's nostrils until you notice effects
Try to understand why everyone is excited about Stranger Things
Cut open a stuffed shark and have *** with it
Listen to The Moob And Antartica because you need to hear A Wild Pack Of Family Dogs
Get a book you're never going to read but insist you'll get around to it
Buy another book and read that one instead
Let friend borrow book and never see it again
Get a small payday loan and sell your Squier Strat for 30 bucks
Tell your roommate you need more *** so hit the guy up
Get yelled at by girlfriend for punishing her dog
Get teeth removed and relish in painkillers
Throw rocks through cars at a ****** dealership
Get a burger at 5 am
Sleep
Wake up
Give coke to your friend's desperate lover
Go on 4 days without showering
Faint from a sneeze
Put super glue on broken glass to fix broken living room window
Be called a racist by a man of my same race AGAINST my same race
Laugh at how dumb political activists are
Go see friends you haven't seen for months and leave 25 minutes later
Write poetry for 10 minutes and pretend I have some message to convey
Put on flannel and take acid
Watch Eric Andre until my ghetto neighborhood produces people reckless enough to break in
Wish comes true
Crush face of armed adversary
Walk out of apartment complex
Break your knuckle on steel gate
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 4:55 AM UTC
I'm not a good person
I'm not that bad,
But I don't merit enough
To wear the cape.
I'm caught in a contingency
Of expression
More so riding pale lines
Of old boundaries of morality
Good and Evil have become words
Demise and Salvation interchange
And I'm left to dig,
Searching for my soul under the rubble.
Chuckling and weeping are devoured
By silence in corridors where tennants tiptoe
Feeling and hearing the ominous nothing.
I am the nothing.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
She was intelligent and well versed
A mind like a piercing tack
A powerful woman that holds her own
Carrying the planet on her back
Beauty was a treasure her heart had sheltered
Hidden it in a chest
And all the while, I thought the men
We're simply staring at her *******
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
Ridged blood and fat deposits scraping against my bone
Falls out my mouth and paints the sidewalks to match my kidney stones
Thrown into a liar's window so I could steal their clothes
Specifically, a long sleeved shirt, so my heart could have a home
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
/
When you are growing as a poet
your pain is pining to born a poetry
where there are too many clouds of emotions gathering,
also a pensive mood longing
then the thunder of thoughts growing,
your paper is awaiting for the first word
as I was waiting for you, my love
when you were coming slowly
then words of rain raining,
automatically,
randomly
When the first raindrop pings on the pond
even you don't know when it will be stopped
how far it will be covered
which path it will be taken
even its density,
dignity,
or the diversity
Your first word inks on the paper
you don’t know when it will be finished
which way the words will be taken
even you don't know
its size or style,
its fashion or the scheme
Either it's a long or a short
or even a sonnet or a verse
even its rhyming
or the rhythm
You should not think about its length
of course words grow as long as
the metaphors can travel
through its thoughts of cohesion
and its feelings moving
naturally,
poetically
You should not count the words
or even you can't stop within a limit
it makes your thoughts imperfect
rather you can tell totally
about the life,
or can tell about
the love easily
or beyond the life spontaneously
The words can grow 3,5,7
lines for a haiku
or even it goes for a mile for an epitaph
or more for an epic
Poetry executes through words
words come from thoughts
thoughts come from the emotions
and ends with the wisdom
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
The beauty of your existence
Is that of a book with blank pages
Waiting to be written by only your words
The beauty of your existence
Is that of a hymn sung by only your voice
Where everyone in the streets quietly admires your notes
The beauty of your existence
Is that of a blank mural waiting to be painted
And to presented amongst an exhibit labeled "Stories"
The beauty of your existence
Is that of a tale told around a campfire
As children scurry around the teller
To listen in on your adventures
The beauty of your existence
Is a compliment to another's
Adding hues that could otherwise make their existence dull
The beauty of your existence
Is that you simply exist.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
i don't write
to please anyone
i don't write
for attention
i don't write
for compliments
i don't write
to make anyone fall in love with me
i write
because i feel
i write
because i need to
i write
because my mind is too loud
i write
because my mouth is too quiet
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
I'm tired
But I get out of bed
I haven't been sleeping
But I throw my clothes on
I haven't had a chance to head to the laundromat
But I'm unloading freight at the dock
I'm tired
But she's still running through my mind
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
The ants are crawling on the door
Just the same
I'm crawling to get to the open ones
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC