garrett-lydecker - Hello Poetry

Nur am Morgen Ich meochte es haben Geben sie mir brot bitte Welcher Unterschied besteht zwischen den beiden dingen? Man hat mir gesagt jeder weiss es Was ich muss tun Sonst nichts? bis zu ende Kommen Sie zu mir Dieser Tage only in the mornings I'd like to have it Give me some bread please what is the difference between the two things? I've been told everybody knows it what i must do Nothing else? until the end Come to me One of these days

0

Feb 6, 2013

Feb 6, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC

Leben

Nur am Morgen Ich meochte es haben Geben sie mir brot bitte Welcher Unterschied besteht zwischen den beiden dingen? Man hat mir gesagt jeder weiss es Was ich muss tun Sonst nichts? bis zu ende Kommen Sie zu mir Dieser Tage only in the mornings I'd like to have it Give me some bread please what is the difference between the two things? I've been told everybody knows it what i must do Nothing else? until the end Come to me One of these days

20

It can never be, yet I still Love him Cold set tears I have cried, looking for answers at the bottom of bottles Whiskey and wine shall aid to my rhyme and then I will not be so fake I can feel your heart beat in different time Faith pulling Turning body and soul against mind I fall into shadow culling and sense the weight of time My dreams are plagued with your corpse A powerless moment when I cried my plea And the weight of my remorse I lost myself there, empty And tho naught my burden Revealed the love I have for the An so I am doomed to a cold fire looking into your eyes I see revelations and you laugh and say to me "you have a bird" "only for you" is my silent response

0

Feb 6, 2013

Feb 6, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC

In another life

It can never be, yet I still Love him Cold set tears I have cried, looking for answers at the bottom of bottles Whiskey and wine shall aid to my rhyme and then I will not be so fake I can feel your heart beat in different time Faith pulling Turning body and soul against mind I fall into shadow culling and sense the weight of time My dreams are plagued with your corpse A powerless moment when I cried my plea And the weight of my remorse I lost myself there, empty And tho naught my burden Revealed the love I have for the An so I am doomed to a cold fire looking into your eyes I see revelations and you laugh and say to me "you have a bird" "only for you" is my silent response

23

Love is blond She stands quietly She looks at me with star-crossed hazel eyes Freckles dance on her right cheek Everyday she gives me nourishment Cold as the spring my lips frost and thaw She is water Lust is tall and handsome Dark eyes cheeky grin He stands strong and proud He talks of his experience, impresses himself, Lies Bout his nature, keeps us apart I close my eyes, warm radiance upon my skin He is fire I shall sin for lust and pray for love Even though they say i"ll never have it

0

Feb 2, 2013

Feb 2, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC

elements

Love is blond She stands quietly She looks at me with star-crossed hazel eyes Freckles dance on her right cheek Everyday she gives me nourishment Cold as the spring my lips frost and thaw She is water Lust is tall and handsome Dark eyes cheeky grin He stands strong and proud He talks of his experience, impresses himself, Lies Bout his nature, keeps us apart I close my eyes, warm radiance upon my skin He is fire I shall sin for lust and pray for love Even though they say i"ll never have it

16

Write. Edit out the fiction. For too long I have gilded everything I know. In attempts to make this life seem better than it is. To live in a world of edit. Forever stopping my pen. Forever checking my lines and prose as if there would be some sort of inspiration that ... inhale.. takes us away... exhale... and through this pause of a muse comes the inevitable death. I can feel the rusted metal of the tracks now crying for attention and about to scream as the train car twists and it is derailed in a complete and utter dead stop.

0

Dec 31, 2012

Dec 31, 2012 at 1:29 AM UTC

#1 To Do

Write. Edit out the fiction. For too long I have gilded everything I know. In attempts to make this life seem better than it is. To live in a world of edit. Forever stopping my pen. Forever checking my lines and prose as if there would be some sort of inspiration that ... inhale.. takes us away... exhale... and through this pause of a muse comes the inevitable death. I can feel the rusted metal of the tracks now crying for attention and about to scream as the train car twists and it is derailed in a complete and utter dead stop.

2

3,000 miles on the path through America proper Blood set out to a promise Like the snows of February that melt into spring In the dark of winter the heart shutters off the cold From the the outskirts Where the golems hammering the relentless agony of their own doubt drone out the priests singing their eulogies from smokestacks Through the midlands, a harsh country where you can see for leagues, Not a soul in sight Mr. Brown waves as he makes his way to market in his bright yellow hummer He once held a powerful title and responsibility although his corn grows taller and thicker than his grandfather he is at a loss to wrap him mind around the virility that once was the soil His crops slowly turning his Eden into rolling badlands Shrubs take the place of dry grass as the wind gains pace Trees spring up in a crescendo of life as the pair climb into the heavens The journey of three moons in a metallic horse A feeling setting in from the west where the arctic winds cross to meet the great current, forcing Father Time's cold breath from his mountain top bungalow to whisper the dirges of the solstice Now the warmth of the lamplight and the smell of salt is but a memory in the Warp speed of stars flying by almost as if the specks of light would melt as they come hurdling towards the cockpit only to be wiped away by the persistent squeaks of rubber Headlights guide the traveler on the path The view fifteen nautical feet, now unmeasurable in these foreign lands Like a skiff out to sea in a tempest the charts have blown away and nothing but the fury of the storm remains Upon the arrival at mt. Olympus Storm clouds break as a pillar of light reveals Emphatic joy and unbroken creation Time pauses for a breath as space opens the lungs to fill the mind of man with sweet dreams The water cold and the wind bitter As ice accumulates upon his once fiery heart A slender body can't help but quiver As with the sun shall rise his art And upon the new day dawning He stands and stretches yawning At his heart he's clawing Until his boots are on and upon that heavenly hill He steps in to paint the landscape with hues of white Soul reaching out past time past space inspiring love Dancing in the aether Soaring as promise Painting trails of love

0

Dec 5, 2012

Dec 5, 2012 at 4:07 PM UTC

Journey to 48.7597° N, 122.4869° W

3,000 miles on the path through America proper Blood set out to a promise Like the snows of February that melt into spring In the dark of winter the heart shutters off the cold From the the outskirts Where the golems hammering the relentless agony of their own doubt drone out the priests singing their eulogies from smokestacks Through the midlands, a harsh country where you can see for leagues, Not a soul in sight Mr. Brown waves as he makes his way to market in his bright yellow hummer He once held a powerful title and responsibility although his corn grows taller and thicker than his grandfather he is at a loss to wrap him mind around the virility that once was the soil His crops slowly turning his Eden into rolling badlands Shrubs take the place of dry grass as the wind gains pace Trees spring up in a crescendo of life as the pair climb into the heavens The journey of three moons in a metallic horse A feeling setting in from the west where the arctic winds cross to meet the great current, forcing Father Time's cold breath from his mountain top bungalow to whisper the dirges of the solstice Now the warmth of the lamplight and the smell of salt is but a memory in the Warp speed of stars flying by almost as if the specks of light would melt as they come hurdling towards the cockpit only to be wiped away by the persistent squeaks of rubber Headlights guide the traveler on the path The view fifteen nautical feet, now unmeasurable in these foreign lands Like a skiff out to sea in a tempest the charts have blown away and nothing but the fury of the storm remains Upon the arrival at mt. Olympus Storm clouds break as a pillar of light reveals Emphatic joy and unbroken creation Time pauses for a breath as space opens the lungs to fill the mind of man with sweet dreams The water cold and the wind bitter As ice accumulates upon his once fiery heart A slender body can't help but quiver As with the sun shall rise his art And upon the new day dawning He stands and stretches yawning At his heart he's clawing Until his boots are on and upon that heavenly hill He steps in to paint the landscape with hues of white Soul reaching out past time past space inspiring love Dancing in the aether Soaring as promise Painting trails of love

41

Once forgotten But never lost Every time I draw I think of you I went to the museum the other day I walked around for hours looking for you Scrutinizing every piece for a sign of your elegant goofery And when I could not find you I left a rose and a pack of cigarettes on the steps Down the street I found a pub I asked everyone about you But all I got was a pint of regret If I could see you Just so you could **** me and bury me in the back yard I would be happy Because you deserve nothing less

0

Nov 29, 2012

Nov 29, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC

Sam

Once forgotten But never lost Every time I draw I think of you I went to the museum the other day I walked around for hours looking for you Scrutinizing every piece for a sign of your elegant goofery And when I could not find you I left a rose and a pack of cigarettes on the steps Down the street I found a pub I asked everyone about you But all I got was a pint of regret If I could see you Just so you could **** me and bury me in the back yard I would be happy Because you deserve nothing less

14

How do you feel?... Wait! What do I feel?... For the longest time I... I don't know... What am I supposed to do?... I will see you for the first time What happens now?... space suspended Love at first sight Again Just to see you to touch you To bear witness to your warm heart Why is the saddest of love stories mine own to repeat? A cold fire of my serious vanity Revealed to me know under the cold lamp light of November's embrace

0

Nov 29, 2012

Nov 29, 2012 at 12:34 AM UTC

Romeo

How do you feel?... Wait! What do I feel?... For the longest time I... I don't know... What am I supposed to do?... I will see you for the first time What happens now?... space suspended Love at first sight Again Just to see you to touch you To bear witness to your warm heart Why is the saddest of love stories mine own to repeat? A cold fire of my serious vanity Revealed to me know under the cold lamp light of November's embrace

13

What are we search for? Up sleeve cigarettes and better living through chemistry. Looking at the stars, inaction we fall for the grifter's pitch Didn't you hear? The search is over A man in white found the stone The elixir Promising perfection the politician pours pompous profanities while princes pause for prudence and the purser pushes prophetic pleas of profit. Pure precedent presented fresh to the world. And we cry "what say do we have in these matters?" I will cry no more No more will I feel helpless For I have all the power in my world If the heavens would rain fire I shall command the seas to rise I will stretch out my limbs roots growing deep, deep down into the raw earth And when the star appears in the heavens Reach to chant its praise.

0

Nov 27, 2012

Nov 27, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC

Reach

What are we search for? Up sleeve cigarettes and better living through chemistry. Looking at the stars, inaction we fall for the grifter's pitch Didn't you hear? The search is over A man in white found the stone The elixir Promising perfection the politician pours pompous profanities while princes pause for prudence and the purser pushes prophetic pleas of profit. Pure precedent presented fresh to the world. And we cry "what say do we have in these matters?" I will cry no more No more will I feel helpless For I have all the power in my world If the heavens would rain fire I shall command the seas to rise I will stretch out my limbs roots growing deep, deep down into the raw earth And when the star appears in the heavens Reach to chant its praise.

17

Your eyes are full of Sweet tides slanting timidly Stylizing starry-eyed Soliloquies Secretly stopping surrounding Surveying

0

Nov 26, 2012

Nov 26, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC

Pools of love

Your eyes are full of Sweet tides slanting timidly Stylizing starry-eyed Soliloquies Secretly stopping surrounding Surveying

5

Copper and Tin conceive versatility Cheeky hearts furiously forge Russet eyes surveyed, swim Through my silver stare Impulsively Stubborn Impatiently Steadfast Generously Indulgent Curiously Musical In its alliance a revelation Fresh Inspiration

0

Nov 26, 2012

Nov 26, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC

Bronze

Copper and Tin conceive versatility Cheeky hearts furiously forge Russet eyes surveyed, swim Through my silver stare Impulsively Stubborn Impatiently Steadfast Generously Indulgent Curiously Musical In its alliance a revelation Fresh Inspiration

10