Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
demetri-kirkland
American I am a kewl military brat from everywhere. I am a follower of Christ, I'd really rather be close to him. I really dig singing, songwriting, poetry, writing, and many other things in the arts, and I really admire other people gifted in those areas, i'm still learning lots about music and my purpose in it. I'm in my senior year at the great Bethune-Cookman University in Daytona Beach, FL. I'm a music education major, i've marched with the P.R.I.D.E. of B-CU for 2 years, and played 1st and 2nd Clarinet in the University's top Symphonic Ensemble for 3 years. I like to laugh and be carefree. I also like corny and cheesy jokes. I'm generally off-beat, quirky, kinda odd, I call it peculiar. Music is my passion and I can't see me without it. I aspire to be a songwriter, composer, producer, writer, poet, teacher, artist, and businessman.
This morning I fell awake To my stomach running Scared With shoes made of worry Again So I reached down my throat To scrape every shoe Off of my tender insides When I felt one I snatched it out Confidently Seeing that it wasn't a shoe But advice To my feet.
0
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 2:05 PM UTC
Butterflies
The world can see them We’re all peeping toms We get off on their P.D.A. How he cups her in his palms He kisses her nervous lips And she wails with each touch She loves how he touches her She swoons to his firm clutch They’re on full display A real live *** tape They put on a show for us perverts He’s all over her curvy shape Watch him grab her golden thigh Listen to her soulful shouts The quiver in her tone says she likes it The people like it even more, no doubt They’ve made themselves infamous Cause we like to hear her moan The man and his girl are devoted A musician and his saxophone
0
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 9:56 PM UTC
Instumental Intimacy: Phone ***
I'm waiting on my number the lucky thirteen, that's when i'll hit it big and be gone from this scene. I've got lots of talent and it won't be much longer, till 13 O'Clock strikes then i'll be much stronger. So far it hasn't come yet the opportunity does get near, and it always get's so close but it never actually gets here. Thats okay though my moment's around the corner, it'll be any day now it's getting warmer and warmer. I could make my move now but that wouldn't be smart, I gotta wait for that thirteen the perfect time for me to start. Good luck to everyone making risky moves now, I'm waiting for the jackpot Don't know when or how. So 13 O' Clock success is where I need to be, you've never been out before but time to come around...for me.
0
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 9:51 PM UTC
13 O'Clock
Attracted to the light like a moth you looked just like the real thing, my redeemer in the radiant flesh i came out of the darkness like a goth. After having been under your light for a while the light doesn't illuminate like it did, and it doesn't look that attractive anymore my fashion trend slowly going out of style. I spend more energy looking for the light now the thing that attracted me to you the thing that made you special in the beginning is looking plain annoying and trite now. You could have just been an artificial light a stumbling block of a lesson a reason to wear shades in the future simply blinded by something bright.
0
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 9:49 PM UTC
Artificial Light
BOOM! The beat ripples down my spine And shakes my knees till they tingle like raw nerves That’s when I realize that the music is mine So every accolade I get I deserve I mastermind the young Frankenstien But over the speakers it has a life of its own It punishes every soul it can find It even trances me into a zone It commits ****** so I’m charged with the crime 1st degree for killing everything out right now That’s the only proper rating in my mind Since 1st place is the only thing I’ll allow Hopefully when I’m ready I’ll get the sign To tame my monster of a sound Until then keep grooving till your energy winds And your heart drums its last pound BOOM!
0
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 9:48 PM UTC
I Get Away With ******
Sinking my mouth and my happiness into this grapefruit reminds me of when I didn’t like them so much, with their jarring, acquired taste. So misunderstood was I, since I now let his underrated juices drip down my 22 year-old cheeks. I wonder how many walk past him for his more accessible brother, and other flavors so well-known. I wonder what kind of role he plays in the thoughts of his colleagues. A strange citrus with complex flavors they care not to taste. I bet they find him arrogant, and too serious to break their inner circle. They probably think his foreign blood would taint their personalities. They don’t talk to him, I bet. Schizophrenic gestures and paint-flavored greetings sum the daily conversations. Maybe they assume that the least of their efforts might strike them fancy; make them seem nice and that I would think of them as wonderful and beautiful people. Me and these flavors would never understand why you stand across the room and analyze me. Me and these flavors would never understand why you wouldn’t want to indulge yourself in what you don’t understand, since you’re a scholar and all. I would never get your issue. I keep taking bites of this grapefruit; curious to know if your Christianity means more than your gender. I imagine the scenario of you getting to know these flavors, and experiencing me with bliss and approval on your sleeve. I imagine having a friend, that I don’t have to worry about scaring with all that I bring to the table, and all I choose to keep off of it. I imagine you abandoning your opinions and assumptions and apprehensions about me, letting them seep down the importance of your uniform, and getting to know the God that you swear lives in all of us citrus fruit.
0
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 9:45 PM UTC
Monologue I: Citrus
Sinking my mouth and my happiness into this grapefruit reminds me of when I didn’t like them so much, with their jarring, acquired taste. So misunderstood was I, since I now let his underrated juices drip down my 22 year-old cheeks. I wonder how many walk past him for his more accessible brother, and other flavors so well-known. I wonder what kind of role he plays in the thoughts of his colleagues. A strange citrus with complex flavors they care not to taste. I bet they find him arrogant, and too serious to break their inner circle. They probably think his foreign blood would taint their personalities. They don’t talk to him, I bet. Schizophrenic gestures and paint-flavored greetings sum the daily conversations. Maybe they assume that the least of their efforts might strike them fancy; make them seem nice and that I would think of them as wonderful and beautiful people. Me and these flavors would never understand why you stand across the room and analyze me. Me and these flavors would never understand why you wouldn’t want to indulge yourself in what you don’t understand, since you’re a scholar and all. I would never get your issue. I keep taking bites of this grapefruit; curious to know if your Christianity means more than your gender. I imagine the scenario of you getting to know these flavors, and experiencing me with bliss and approval on your sleeve. I imagine having a friend, that I don’t have to worry about scaring with all that I bring to the table, and all I choose to keep off of it. I imagine you abandoning your opinions and assumptions and apprehensions about me, letting them seep down the importance of your uniform, and getting to know the God that you swear lives in all of us citrus fruit.
Continue reading...
17
I can see the truth in the horizon And it doesn’t look very happy I know it cause it reeks of doom And charges to attack me My virginity is jeopardized I’ve been a lie all these years If I was smarter than yesterday I could’ve avoided these fears Spring cleaning has suddenly come And it woke up my nightmares Everyone feels the disappointed Now it’s time for my share It’s the fist of Goliath The sharp sting of a backhand The anticipation hurt like the verdict I've had *** with a man
0
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 7:01 PM UTC
The Frightful Sub-Conscious
It’s the lie of passive anger The belief in blissful loss, False desires of imperfection They all really want the gloss. Give the apology after the ****** The political game is intact, It always hurts when you’re lied to Even worse watching the act. Who puts a baby in the trash To forget about their troubles, Who really trusts the husband Who has a body double. As crazy as Tom Cruise Dynamic like white paint, It’s a fact till it's false True motives behind the saint.
0
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 6:59 PM UTC
Government, Please!
It doesn’t take glasses to see It’s not the best season to be a man, The most exhilarating heartbreak To be your only fan. Jack Daniels doesn’t lie It so lonely at the top, Suicide calling from the bottom Just waiting for my drop. No one cares if I’m smart They only care if I’m useful, Time even breaks that belief When I’m no longer youthful. Today I should make a pledge I wont write for the fame, Too bad yesterday kept the promise But tomorrow doesn’t do the same.
0
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 6:58 PM UTC
Real-Eyes
The anger felt so good i wasn’t sure until yesterday told me he was the cure. A me unlike me the stuff of nightmares backed into a corner not a single care. An interesting failure to lose my cool the most homemade sin to act a complete fool. Calm and collected till reality threw a surprise i knew about my alter but I didn’t know his size
0
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
Him