Doesn't it **** so hard
When you're really happy one second :)
But then the next you're really sad :(
I miss her.
Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 7:18 AM UTC
Wouldn't it be funny
if somehow this scrawl of text,
were to be misinterpreted as a poem
by this website's algorithm,
and then, in time...
It was scooped up, and sent out
as an email to so many users
...Shown to them in full
with an option to rate it, and comment
Wouldn't it be.
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 9:11 AM UTC
To give a thing is about as nice as having it at first
The shallow joy of helping out, with which we're gladly cursed
A man on the street, or the whole third world, we'll often spare a dime
But those who need it most of all will end up doing time
There's rules for accepting given aid and what it will allow
But if the point's to give out help, does it really matter how?
If one is to give, then one has to take, it's simple but it's true
And if you really care as much as you say, then does it matter who?
Banks will drop millions a year on children who are in need
But if you're hungry enough to steal a cent, you're punished for your greed
So much is given to so many, it's hard to know who gets what
So what if someone not entitled dips in? - They shouldn't be denied a cut
If you're offering help with a plan in mind, you have to accept how it goes
And if they **** it all away, remember, it's a risk that you chose
You agree to the fact that it might not go well, and so we're here again
Does it matter once you've chosen to help, if it goes to a foe or a friend?
If the initial idea was to help a soul, then be happy just to try
And if a percent or two gets stolen away, you'll have no reason to cry
And with that, I'll be on my way now... As it's almost ten to three
Not gonna' call, sorry I said I would, but hey - At least you're helping me
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 9:03 AM UTC
A wheel ever turning over, but not on any track
Going nowhere, but carrying all upon its frail back
It stares at me from the wall, knowing that it lasts forever
To think it was built by hands like mine, but created solely to measure
But now it's gotten out of hand (Ha ha) and it's immortal, unlike me
Even when it rusts and fails to do, it will always continue to be
It doesn't even really exist, I think, but somehow outlives us
And for something that we just SAY is there, it causes so much fuss
No road I take will be as long as yours, wheel upon the wall
And though I'll struggle, & suffer, & fail - You'll have no trouble at all
When we all die, will you exist? Because we invented "Eternity" too
Or are you so ubiquitous in form that others will recreate you?
Wheel, oh wheel, you tell me nothing that I don't already know
I have no need for when at all, but you'll still tell me so
Though you may be eternal, you are running out for me
So if I make you mortal, will I never cease to be?
And then I smashed the clock
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 8:58 AM UTC
Rotted hollow stumps grow greeting
Minds like yours and mine to meeting
Might and menace - the men retreating
From utter, bar none, monsters beating
Of hearts so strong and weak, along
To stringent thrums they croon our song
They part and in this place belong
Some rightful seat to wax and wrong
In love and scorn, in thoughts alone
Of deeds repaid and sins atoned
Upon the glim we fling the stone
And call aloft to steer us home
But not the blood home whence our birth
Nor still the foster touch of earth
- The flames unfit, the skies in dearth -
Instead on stanchions of our worth
Beneath twin pools of muck and ire
Beneath two more: The beast; The fire;
Ceaseless straits of optic mire
Rivers down and up the spire
From our aft the wire emerges
The string'ed puppet craft from urges
Our safety ropes - A net converges
Upon we fall in chants and dirges
Through gaps astride we tears fall
Side by ****** side from all
Our tide of eyes will cue the call
The masses' fist to uninstall
Yanked aside like rotting weeds
Our amalgam minds took-root recedes
The might has died, the menace bleeds
Our wants - They are this monster's needs
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC