l-a-lamb - Hello Poetry

I don’t mind being criticized If I’m wrong, tell me so Let me know, so I can go about doing right And I just might find the solution The retribution The redistribution of answers Being held from us Preventing us from knowing What knowledge is growing somewhere else in life That’s what they say But that’s what they all say Convey threats to war Scare us because they know we’re not sure Send warnings then bombings exploding everything, incessant destruction so maybe it doesn't matter if I'm right or wrong, I'm being criticized as long as I can adapt to thinking and can think about adapting I just want to do what's right so I write to figure it out But I doubt what I see, do my hand deceive me when my words show that everything is wrong?

0

Jun 16, 2015

Jun 16, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC

Untitled

I don’t mind being criticized If I’m wrong, tell me so Let me know, so I can go about doing right And I just might find the solution The retribution The redistribution of answers Being held from us Preventing us from knowing What knowledge is growing somewhere else in life That’s what they say But that’s what they all say Convey threats to war Scare us because they know we’re not sure Send warnings then bombings exploding everything, incessant destruction so maybe it doesn't matter if I'm right or wrong, I'm being criticized as long as I can adapt to thinking and can think about adapting I just want to do what's right so I write to figure it out But I doubt what I see, do my hand deceive me when my words show that everything is wrong?

25

Are more than basic questions and constantly questioning "why did I leave? So suddenly?" and "did I do the right thing?" Was I selfish, only thinking about me, my future and my reality was it only an escape because I thought I couldn't handle it and couldn't cope or because I wanted a challenge and to broaden my scope

0

Jun 16, 2015

Jun 16, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC

Questionable actions

Are more than basic questions and constantly questioning "why did I leave? So suddenly?" and "did I do the right thing?" Was I selfish, only thinking about me, my future and my reality was it only an escape because I thought I couldn't handle it and couldn't cope or because I wanted a challenge and to broaden my scope

12

Drinking beer by a garbage can Does that make me ****** No, it makes me sneaky Flies surround me It's better than being caught And scolded: "drinking is bad" Sketchy things I do to drink alcohol I still consider it worth it. I watch the wispy clouds, and flies Buzzing, mirroring my mind as I wonder how I made it to 23 years old So fast.

0

Apr 12, 2015

Apr 12, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC

Untitled

Drinking beer by a garbage can Does that make me ****** No, it makes me sneaky Flies surround me It's better than being caught And scolded: "drinking is bad" Sketchy things I do to drink alcohol I still consider it worth it. I watch the wispy clouds, and flies Buzzing, mirroring my mind as I wonder how I made it to 23 years old So fast.

11

He didn't know that he invested in being left and getting cheated on, bereft of commitment, suddenly it all went wrong; I took a turn back to what I had before, just to reaffirm I don't have that anymore. Vows: we never said them and I don't know that we will, but I'm honest as can be when I say I love him still.

0

Apr 12, 2015

Apr 12, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC

Untitled

He didn't know that he invested in being left and getting cheated on, bereft of commitment, suddenly it all went wrong; I took a turn back to what I had before, just to reaffirm I don't have that anymore. Vows: we never said them and I don't know that we will, but I'm honest as can be when I say I love him still.

1

I cope through poetry. I cope by confessing through writing what I cannot say yet want to convey. So here it goes: I suppose you wonder why I went astray, in my mind, in our reality, why I packed up and left, as if I wanted to forget, how much we meant to each other; my brother: if you knew how I wept in your absence--I hate to think of you as past tense, but know this: I did not dismiss your heart but rather I wanted a new start, and it's still for you my love burns and one day I will return. I know it's concerning but my love's still burning, for it's you I adore like no one before, and now in the moment I'm torn with great torment, wondering if in time you might change your mind, and yet while it's my doing, it's just you I'm pursuing. Though my presence may lack, I expect to come back, and return to your arms, free of all mental qualms, though I am a bit queer, my affection perseveres, and don't get me wrong, it's been you all along, I just needed some time, to find what's going through my mind, and I admit I got scared, for such love I felt unprepared, but my feelings are discerning and it's you for whom I'm yearning, and although I hesitate, I hope you can endure the wait; please just say you won't perish boo because I love and cherish you, but should you say we're done, just know I had a lot of fun, and I would never ever spite you, because love, there's no one like you; I'll never forget you and I'm so happy I met you.

0

Mar 29, 2015

Mar 29, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC

****** sentiments

I cope through poetry. I cope by confessing through writing what I cannot say yet want to convey. So here it goes: I suppose you wonder why I went astray, in my mind, in our reality, why I packed up and left, as if I wanted to forget, how much we meant to each other; my brother: if you knew how I wept in your absence--I hate to think of you as past tense, but know this: I did not dismiss your heart but rather I wanted a new start, and it's still for you my love burns and one day I will return. I know it's concerning but my love's still burning, for it's you I adore like no one before, and now in the moment I'm torn with great torment, wondering if in time you might change your mind, and yet while it's my doing, it's just you I'm pursuing. Though my presence may lack, I expect to come back, and return to your arms, free of all mental qualms, though I am a bit queer, my affection perseveres, and don't get me wrong, it's been you all along, I just needed some time, to find what's going through my mind, and I admit I got scared, for such love I felt unprepared, but my feelings are discerning and it's you for whom I'm yearning, and although I hesitate, I hope you can endure the wait; please just say you won't perish boo because I love and cherish you, but should you say we're done, just know I had a lot of fun, and I would never ever spite you, because love, there's no one like you; I'll never forget you and I'm so happy I met you.

3

It used to be fun but I’m not myself anymore. This brand of whiskey has two first names, the latter name plural, Cheap and vile. Swig. Shot. Giggle. Hold his gaze. Break it. Sip mixed with coke. Gulp. Chug. Chew the ice. Suppress urge to ***** Is my nose bleeding? No—just runny. Still numb. Too many lines. Euphoria beats sitting home alone wanting to hang myself, but I shouldn’t have done this. He touches me. Laughs. What a narcissist, a drunk ******* narcissist. I want to slap him. Instead I reach for his belt. How are my hands functioning? He helps because I’m struggling. We laugh. We get naked. I stumble on top. There it is. Turn my face away because we don’t kiss. I’m sweating. How long have I been here? His shoulders and head are leaned back, his hips thrusting upward. His slight cringe and increased breathing indicates I’m done. I rise. He smiles. I fake it. Get up and get dressed. My heart is pounding. I should shower. I put on my bra, then dress (where’s my underwear?)

0

Oct 7, 2014

Oct 7, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC

2011

It used to be fun but I’m not myself anymore. This brand of whiskey has two first names, the latter name plural, Cheap and vile. Swig. Shot. Giggle. Hold his gaze. Break it. Sip mixed with coke. Gulp. Chug. Chew the ice. Suppress urge to ***** Is my nose bleeding? No—just runny. Still numb. Too many lines. Euphoria beats sitting home alone wanting to hang myself, but I shouldn’t have done this. He touches me. Laughs. What a narcissist, a drunk ******* narcissist. I want to slap him. Instead I reach for his belt. How are my hands functioning? He helps because I’m struggling. We laugh. We get naked. I stumble on top. There it is. Turn my face away because we don’t kiss. I’m sweating. How long have I been here? His shoulders and head are leaned back, his hips thrusting upward. His slight cringe and increased breathing indicates I’m done. I rise. He smiles. I fake it. Get up and get dressed. My heart is pounding. I should shower. I put on my bra, then dress (where’s my underwear?)

1

I wrote several years ago, a scrap of paper with wondering thoughts--lost. Delinquent, ovulating, ***** lovers, *** devil, **** lies, logic, science dalliance, omission, legality lost, sultry does oppression look like sex--yes: It was forced, it ran it's course but it still runs, runs runs silently, but in actuality, loud quietly, but it prowls, hunting for calamity a sad reality-- a tragedy with wicked twists which linger on my wrists, hips and thighs charred with scars and lies, I lied: with my thighs when i let you in, it wasn't a sin but a lesson I learned, as a girl and education I didn't earn --but I sure paid for no cause for concern but I find it discerning, sick and disturbing--you seek dolls so fine, glossed pretty pink lips that shine, lips like mine but there is no crime, put a price on a doll and say she's worth a dime.

0

Oct 7, 2014

Oct 7, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC

Dolls

I wrote several years ago, a scrap of paper with wondering thoughts--lost. Delinquent, ovulating, ***** lovers, *** devil, **** lies, logic, science dalliance, omission, legality lost, sultry does oppression look like sex--yes: It was forced, it ran it's course but it still runs, runs runs silently, but in actuality, loud quietly, but it prowls, hunting for calamity a sad reality-- a tragedy with wicked twists which linger on my wrists, hips and thighs charred with scars and lies, I lied: with my thighs when i let you in, it wasn't a sin but a lesson I learned, as a girl and education I didn't earn --but I sure paid for no cause for concern but I find it discerning, sick and disturbing--you seek dolls so fine, glossed pretty pink lips that shine, lips like mine but there is no crime, put a price on a doll and say she's worth a dime.

26

You bitch—I bet you know this— All along you knew it was wrong You were too insecure You wanted what wasn’t yours You corrupt ******* ***** I swore to be nice But it was really hard, twice When you brought it up Shoved it in my face— I wanted to put you in your place But I knew, too true, it was all you could do To regain a feeling, Feel like you had meaning, And were worth something to him But your summer skin was not enough To make him stay, you were a piece to play, A piece to hold and let go of right away An action he made To throw my world in disarray You stupid ***** He never gave a **** That’s why it was a hit and quit —was it worth it? To be a *** and make me feel bad? We both know He never loved you, And that’s pretty ******* sad I bet you were ******* mad When he used your *** then tossed you aside like trash— for a drunken smash, trying to hurt me-- you were nothing more than a slick slit to stick his **** and I bet you feel like **** you were a shard to break my heart and you did—you betrayed a sister for a mister who only used you as a quickfix —that manipulative ***** had you tricked! But you know what? You deserved it—you heard it In my fake voice—the restrain Not to tackle you and beat your face But I refrained, still the pain: For you and me both, But it sure ***** to see how You could never be The girl he loved the most.

0

Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC

Memorial Day Weekend 2008

You bitch—I bet you know this— All along you knew it was wrong You were too insecure You wanted what wasn’t yours You corrupt ******* ***** I swore to be nice But it was really hard, twice When you brought it up Shoved it in my face— I wanted to put you in your place But I knew, too true, it was all you could do To regain a feeling, Feel like you had meaning, And were worth something to him But your summer skin was not enough To make him stay, you were a piece to play, A piece to hold and let go of right away An action he made To throw my world in disarray You stupid ***** He never gave a **** That’s why it was a hit and quit —was it worth it? To be a *** and make me feel bad? We both know He never loved you, And that’s pretty ******* sad I bet you were ******* mad When he used your *** then tossed you aside like trash— for a drunken smash, trying to hurt me-- you were nothing more than a slick slit to stick his **** and I bet you feel like **** you were a shard to break my heart and you did—you betrayed a sister for a mister who only used you as a quickfix —that manipulative ***** had you tricked! But you know what? You deserved it—you heard it In my fake voice—the restrain Not to tackle you and beat your face But I refrained, still the pain: For you and me both, But it sure ***** to see how You could never be The girl he loved the most.

47

Self-fulfilling Prophecy When I walked to Jerusalem And I saw people following I thought to myself What the **** All day, all night No sleep, alright Because I’m carried by my dreams-- so it seems I hit cloud nine; because I crashed Against a glass—ceiling When I hit my head Too high Coming down, aye, down and out Looking for a substance to drown in But not go out in, **** I’ll spray some **** like graffiti on these walls I’ll color skin blue and purple When I get into brawls Because I fall hard. I mean I ball hard. But I get right back up and play If you too wrecked—to-confront-these-lyrics You should stay the **** away. I hear it? Do you hear? I can hear my wedding bells And when I hear people laugh I hear the sound of inner hell. Hellion!! Devil--seductress, baybe maybe I please get in some of that sugary sin Maybe consult Confucius door-hinge --Ask if the juice is worth the squeeze. When I walked to Jerusalem And I saw people following I thought to myself What the **** All day, all night No sleep, alright My suffering was a blessing Say if the Israeli’s got me Journalist, Arabic on my wrist Words of wisdom in my lisp Those Zionists would have shot me Thank Lord.

0

Sep 21, 2014

Sep 21, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC

What the ****

Self-fulfilling Prophecy When I walked to Jerusalem And I saw people following I thought to myself What the **** All day, all night No sleep, alright Because I’m carried by my dreams-- so it seems I hit cloud nine; because I crashed Against a glass—ceiling When I hit my head Too high Coming down, aye, down and out Looking for a substance to drown in But not go out in, **** I’ll spray some **** like graffiti on these walls I’ll color skin blue and purple When I get into brawls Because I fall hard. I mean I ball hard. But I get right back up and play If you too wrecked—to-confront-these-lyrics You should stay the **** away. I hear it? Do you hear? I can hear my wedding bells And when I hear people laugh I hear the sound of inner hell. Hellion!! Devil--seductress, baybe maybe I please get in some of that sugary sin Maybe consult Confucius door-hinge --Ask if the juice is worth the squeeze. When I walked to Jerusalem And I saw people following I thought to myself What the **** All day, all night No sleep, alright My suffering was a blessing Say if the Israeli’s got me Journalist, Arabic on my wrist Words of wisdom in my lisp Those Zionists would have shot me Thank Lord.

43

The inverse of error A metaphorical math Because I rhyme so sick in season You can call men Sylvia Plath You can call me Sylvia Plath Spilling verses accidental Spilling blood like pen and paper Give me rock paper, scissors—construction Philosophy of metaphors—the reciprocal of destruction Creation in deviation Multiplication in meditation and mesmerizing memorization Mad in the head, but I’m a mat-hatter for love 'A zombie by neuroses A zombie by drugs But on those pharmaceutical Cause cut **** is for thugs (3% probability Is in the margin of error How many times have we ****** And would you even care? Oh, despair. The plague of a woman- Slick wit like slick **** And you can call these rhymes grimy Because I’m cleaning your eyes with it.)

0

Sep 21, 2014

Sep 21, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC

Math-Plath=Mutual exclusivity- math-aphors

The inverse of error A metaphorical math Because I rhyme so sick in season You can call men Sylvia Plath You can call me Sylvia Plath Spilling verses accidental Spilling blood like pen and paper Give me rock paper, scissors—construction Philosophy of metaphors—the reciprocal of destruction Creation in deviation Multiplication in meditation and mesmerizing memorization Mad in the head, but I’m a mat-hatter for love 'A zombie by neuroses A zombie by drugs But on those pharmaceutical Cause cut **** is for thugs (3% probability Is in the margin of error How many times have we ****** And would you even care? Oh, despair. The plague of a woman- Slick wit like slick **** And you can call these rhymes grimy Because I’m cleaning your eyes with it.)

24