nickolas-lawson
American
I have always questioned my writing abilities. I am still unsure as to what qualifies as poetry. I guess I know what I like, I write what I feel, and my mind takes me in various directions. Please let me know your thoughts pertaining towards my writings and whether or not they should qualify as poetry.
Passing moments between unmet strangers are like shadows in the dark. One cannot see them but they are still there. A knowing glance passed between them is all that is shared,
but the cobblestones glean more.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:59 PM UTC
Something to hold and feel, something real. Something for my soul. Everything that’s tangible, eventually goes. Untried, untested, mishaps are my fears. A waking soul, is it here?
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:58 PM UTC
How sweet it is
To taste the air
Of a summer breeze.
Fragrant, Crisp, Alive.
How cool it is
To feel the shadow
Of a sweltering heat.
Simple pleasures easily obtained
That are simply unnoticed
By the hurried eye.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:57 PM UTC
Upon a sea of
Longing and loneliness,
I spied a vessel
Traveling East.
I hailed to the captain
To take me aboard
And carry me towards
The light.
He stopped
And dropped anchor
But as I tried to board,
He stopped me short
And stated – Now
Isn’t the time.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:56 PM UTC
Caring, Loving, Understanding
Needing something, very demanding
Just to be loved in return
Is all that you are asking
Persistent, Constant, Unrelenting
Contentions, yours are never bending
Maybe life is still unfolding
Maybe strife is in the molding
Of your life and in mine
I have your traits
Good and bad
I have your tastes
Including dads
Wanting, Craving, Longing
Desire
Addictive needs
That never tire
Simple luxuries
We both require
Sometimes just a
Camp side fire
I have your charm
I have your passion
I have your love
I have your fashion
In all my life
There was compassion
From you
My mom
My one satisfaction
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:55 PM UTC
In the aftermath of
A spring rain
The world seems so
Dreary. But if you listen closely
You can hear the sounds
Of an awakening life.
Yes the ground is wet
And the clouds are still gray
Nevertheless, the grass I bet
Smells better than
The previous day.
The birds slowly
Start singing, the earth’s heart
Slowly starts beating,
And with it comes the
Promise of another
Perfect day.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:54 PM UTC
This is me you little **** you
Think I am not your enemy
But I breathe hate and destroy
Fate- like you really even give a ****
**** off, die, slip and cut your life on mine
Try and see that I hate you and want you
To find a new way to end
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:52 PM UTC
Cynical smile
Cold stone heart
Cracked inner core
Unrelenting bursts
Of anger
With love’s cool waters
The fire subsides
Distant, but here
Treading through
Life’s seas, Sailing
In thought’s breeze
Grasping, holding
But no luck
The cards stacked
Against my favor
Where is my captain
My driver, my stead
Why my longing
My greed, my need
He’s gone forever
He never was.
Over and over searching in vain
What is the agenda
Where are we going?
Crazy-
I once thought.
Sane? just maybe.
What about the others
What ones?
Where are they?
The simpletons
They’re hiding out in the gray.
How many of us have looked at it?
What did we feel?
a calming sense of being
Insignificant?
a sense of wanting
To know the stars?
What is this creature
This thing, this man?
I see only the ripped
Torn, worn, burnt
Sewn together remains
Of a child.
Broken body
Borrowed time-
A little sadness
A little pain, a little party.
A little
Just a bit more eh?
What does the master need-
Little gain.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:51 PM UTC
Sell me your god-thing
That I might contemplate
It’s face
Where is my misplaced
Faith
Along the edges of
My dream-scape reality
I have never found
Any measure of grace
Maybe it has been
Buried along with
The ashes of time
Loan me your Idol
That I might
Worship and bow
While babies and ladies
And toys of my youth
Are mutilated and tossed
aside
where is this prophet
of ages past
where is my lot to be cast
gods and demons and
devils called divas
have all led me astray
sell me your god-thing
your play-thing
your toy
sell me your rosary
his crucifix
your joy
allow me to borrow
your kabbalah
your quran
your bible
your talmud
your kebra negast
give me your god-thing
that I might have peace at last
send with it your
lamentations
your reservations
your contemplations
but keep your wisdom
I have found mine
in the vast
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 8:45 PM UTC
Interspersed upon the leaves the drops dissipate calling for hate, lust and vileness. Blood, the life of the universe. Falling blue and red and erroneous shades of black. Use some pills, drills, and saws – rip and tear and find the truth hidden inside the beast. What is contained besides the bile, filth and caustic, abrasive greed?
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 10:55 PM UTC