franksherwood - Hello Poetry

Kids are cruel, Realizing you'll never be a ladie's man, Twelve years old, Over looked, walked past as if I was laundry, On the floor of a lackadaisical bachelor. Questions begin to whirl, Is it you? Is it me? Am I not physically capable? See I am as beautiful as my confidence should make me, Right? Loneliness heavily consumes the boundaries of confidence. Build your home on stone, Raise your flag through the tools of war, Be the loudest war cry so each maiden takes notice. But I am not a soldier on the frontlines, I am the poet, in the jail cell writing "The flag was still there." Staring at the mounds of bodies of more able bodied men than myself, Holding it in place. Ramparts are the beating of my screaming heart, Bullets sent straight from my mouth, tear through the flesh of those who find love to be aloof of, What creativity truly means. It means you watch from the sidelines, While the quarterback walks away with the girl of your dreams, Soldiers wear uniforms that gleam, sweeping a woman clear off her feet, Bar fight heroes win her heart by never seeing defeat, Drug dealers and users trap her with promises they could never keep. Yet here I am, still sitting in my seat. There's nothing wrong with making believe, I guess I just find myself pondering, It's probably me.

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Jul 16, 2018

Jul 16, 2018 at 3:57 AM UTC

Intellect...Generally Finishes Second

Kids are cruel, Realizing you'll never be a ladie's man, Twelve years old, Over looked, walked past as if I was laundry, On the floor of a lackadaisical bachelor. Questions begin to whirl, Is it you? Is it me? Am I not physically capable? See I am as beautiful as my confidence should make me, Right? Loneliness heavily consumes the boundaries of confidence. Build your home on stone, Raise your flag through the tools of war, Be the loudest war cry so each maiden takes notice. But I am not a soldier on the frontlines, I am the poet, in the jail cell writing "The flag was still there." Staring at the mounds of bodies of more able bodied men than myself, Holding it in place. Ramparts are the beating of my screaming heart, Bullets sent straight from my mouth, tear through the flesh of those who find love to be aloof of, What creativity truly means. It means you watch from the sidelines, While the quarterback walks away with the girl of your dreams, Soldiers wear uniforms that gleam, sweeping a woman clear off her feet, Bar fight heroes win her heart by never seeing defeat, Drug dealers and users trap her with promises they could never keep. Yet here I am, still sitting in my seat. There's nothing wrong with making believe, I guess I just find myself pondering, It's probably me.

29

Rest is a far away dream I can never attain. Not to be ironic, I mean sleep is a hard net in which the goal keeper has golden hands. Fog rules my brain with an iron fist. A job fit for a king Who's tyranny rules over the kingdom where my bed exists, Memories like film reels, keep tick tock ticking away, Reminding me why my pain still lives, or what her hair smelled like, or my mother hiding her tears while we sat in the dark, because the bill came and her wallet exhaled dust and not capital. Counting sheep only shows each mistake I've made jumping over a fence that was built with the ingredients of my broken heart. Each day is a mission, to keep my eyelids from slipping. I drive away from all my problems while they have unlimited frequent flyer miles. Beating me to each destination before I had the chance to say, "I couldn't seem to sleep last night."

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Dec 27, 2017

Dec 27, 2017 at 6:47 PM UTC

Rest

Rest is a far away dream I can never attain. Not to be ironic, I mean sleep is a hard net in which the goal keeper has golden hands. Fog rules my brain with an iron fist. A job fit for a king Who's tyranny rules over the kingdom where my bed exists, Memories like film reels, keep tick tock ticking away, Reminding me why my pain still lives, or what her hair smelled like, or my mother hiding her tears while we sat in the dark, because the bill came and her wallet exhaled dust and not capital. Counting sheep only shows each mistake I've made jumping over a fence that was built with the ingredients of my broken heart. Each day is a mission, to keep my eyelids from slipping. I drive away from all my problems while they have unlimited frequent flyer miles. Beating me to each destination before I had the chance to say, "I couldn't seem to sleep last night."

16

Tremors, no one will guide you Comfort in electrical hums, More than love, more than warmth, You finally love yourself. As you watch the sun blind you behind the palm trees, The thermal glow on your skin, Clashing arguments of waves, Countless grains outline the road maps of your toes. You've learned to love again, not with someone else. Of yourself, Reflections no longer smell of hot garbage, You're an A-list celebrity, starring in your own sitcom. No need for others, heaven has a height And it's you. True beauty only comes when you realize the truth. That happiness lies in perfect solitude.

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Dec 4, 2017

Dec 4, 2017 at 5:35 AM UTC

The Awakening

Tremors, no one will guide you Comfort in electrical hums, More than love, more than warmth, You finally love yourself. As you watch the sun blind you behind the palm trees, The thermal glow on your skin, Clashing arguments of waves, Countless grains outline the road maps of your toes. You've learned to love again, not with someone else. Of yourself, Reflections no longer smell of hot garbage, You're an A-list celebrity, starring in your own sitcom. No need for others, heaven has a height And it's you. True beauty only comes when you realize the truth. That happiness lies in perfect solitude.

16

Corralling my senses, Rolling slot machines, Softly purring words that disintegrate into empty promises, Forget it, I'll end up smoking alone anyway. Know your worth, what you stand for Even what you sit for, My *** hurts from the concrete stoop you left me on Just a pack of cigarettes? It's the final word, Finally focusing, What brought me here in the first place. Love lost, love gained, love dropped For the bright lights of a Vegas skyline "No", to answer your question "We can't be friends." The new one is a nurse, Ironic really.

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Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC

The Final Word

Corralling my senses, Rolling slot machines, Softly purring words that disintegrate into empty promises, Forget it, I'll end up smoking alone anyway. Know your worth, what you stand for Even what you sit for, My *** hurts from the concrete stoop you left me on Just a pack of cigarettes? It's the final word, Finally focusing, What brought me here in the first place. Love lost, love gained, love dropped For the bright lights of a Vegas skyline "No", to answer your question "We can't be friends." The new one is a nurse, Ironic really.

17

Dementia, deja vu It happened to me, It could happen to you. Bed sheets rake flesh, High grade sand paper, Blades dull and rust, As if I held my breaking heart. Whenever, wherever, Brain signals fire, nothing is true Walls close in, pain takes hold, Insanity becomes the typical mold Why can't I respect the flow? So they say, just apart of the waves. I wonder why I can never just chill out.

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Nov 15, 2017

Nov 15, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC

The Predicament

Dementia, deja vu It happened to me, It could happen to you. Bed sheets rake flesh, High grade sand paper, Blades dull and rust, As if I held my breaking heart. Whenever, wherever, Brain signals fire, nothing is true Walls close in, pain takes hold, Insanity becomes the typical mold Why can't I respect the flow? So they say, just apart of the waves. I wonder why I can never just chill out.

14

Wasn't too likely, You missed me nightly, But the drug drip makes memories appear. Road lines, coerce the mind I was believing in something, Still smell the same, your wet lips on my cheek reminded me of the good days. When I was yours and you were mine. Second chances aren't easy, Guess it's you I have to define.

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Nov 13, 2017

Nov 13, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC

The Return

Wasn't too likely, You missed me nightly, But the drug drip makes memories appear. Road lines, coerce the mind I was believing in something, Still smell the same, your wet lips on my cheek reminded me of the good days. When I was yours and you were mine. Second chances aren't easy, Guess it's you I have to define.

9

And so I am nothing No I don't mean I am physically not here or mentally a burden. But something told me once in the distance that I. Am. Nothing. What truly is nothing? It's a state of being, provided by the unforgivable truth that this realm, this place of living. Simply does not exist. The storm clouds ****** you in, A whirlwind of juxtaposition screaming it can't be true! There's gotta be something more to this. But still, I am nothing. We keep pulling our whits together to make believe that love will save us. Whether it's the tender hand placed on your back or the loving grip of the soft skin that turns to wrinkles that show the true ending of the story. We are all made to turn to ash. I am still nothing.

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Nov 11, 2017

Nov 11, 2017 at 3:09 AM UTC

The Realization

And so I am nothing No I don't mean I am physically not here or mentally a burden. But something told me once in the distance that I. Am. Nothing. What truly is nothing? It's a state of being, provided by the unforgivable truth that this realm, this place of living. Simply does not exist. The storm clouds ****** you in, A whirlwind of juxtaposition screaming it can't be true! There's gotta be something more to this. But still, I am nothing. We keep pulling our whits together to make believe that love will save us. Whether it's the tender hand placed on your back or the loving grip of the soft skin that turns to wrinkles that show the true ending of the story. We are all made to turn to ash. I am still nothing.

17

Made it, it's another day. Despite the crippling notions, Suppressive rain drenching my head, Detail-oriented accounts of you, Hours locked in a bed. Another day. Food degrading to ash, Your voice inside my cortex, Gutting emotions, A dull machete "Just give me what's next" It's another day Hauntings, a ghostly other lover, Begging to sleep between, Because to me there is no other, "Don't forget me" was said Thank God, another day Pleading up a universe, Disintegrate all agony, If only for a minute, "let me sleep" "Let me believe I can feel again in my dreams" A morrow makes a heart mend, right? So far, another day The next day compromise.

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Nov 11, 2017

Nov 11, 2017 at 3:00 AM UTC

The Next Day Compromise

Made it, it's another day. Despite the crippling notions, Suppressive rain drenching my head, Detail-oriented accounts of you, Hours locked in a bed. Another day. Food degrading to ash, Your voice inside my cortex, Gutting emotions, A dull machete "Just give me what's next" It's another day Hauntings, a ghostly other lover, Begging to sleep between, Because to me there is no other, "Don't forget me" was said Thank God, another day Pleading up a universe, Disintegrate all agony, If only for a minute, "let me sleep" "Let me believe I can feel again in my dreams" A morrow makes a heart mend, right? So far, another day The next day compromise.

24

Shot up, from broken sleep, Heavily breathing, Guess you've really got a hold on me. Absence makes the heart grow stronger, Or is it fonder? I'll never know unless I get some sleep.

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Nov 9, 2017

Nov 9, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC

The Sleepless Night

Shot up, from broken sleep, Heavily breathing, Guess you've really got a hold on me. Absence makes the heart grow stronger, Or is it fonder? I'll never know unless I get some sleep.

8

Hotel rust, shimmers under florescent blankets Each family huddled together "There's meant to be some change in your life." Yet there is still no warmth Boarded up windows, broken glass Turn of the century they said, Yet the apathy still hasn't come to pass This is ground zero Dead men are shuffling, Gun fire is jamming, They are not really zombies, Only seas of blank stares. Viral visual can be alarming. "Get to the high ground! It's the only way to survive!" On the roof tops realizing, You seem to be the only one alive.

0

Nov 8, 2017

Nov 8, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC

The Living Dead

Hotel rust, shimmers under florescent blankets Each family huddled together "There's meant to be some change in your life." Yet there is still no warmth Boarded up windows, broken glass Turn of the century they said, Yet the apathy still hasn't come to pass This is ground zero Dead men are shuffling, Gun fire is jamming, They are not really zombies, Only seas of blank stares. Viral visual can be alarming. "Get to the high ground! It's the only way to survive!" On the roof tops realizing, You seem to be the only one alive.

16