simon-clarkud - Hello Poetry

The crowd roars. Out comes the king of the ring. His silk robe draped over his massive shoulders, He is looking for a fight. But beneath those big gloved hands are the hands of a hero. The hands of a man who never thought of just himself. The hands that put George Foreman on his *** He floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee, Yet nobody will ever top The Great Ali. To my hero, and my father’s hero. Rest well.

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Jun 5, 2016

Jun 5, 2016 at 2:38 AM UTC

The Great Ali

The crowd roars. Out comes the king of the ring. His silk robe draped over his massive shoulders, He is looking for a fight. But beneath those big gloved hands are the hands of a hero. The hands of a man who never thought of just himself. The hands that put George Foreman on his *** He floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee, Yet nobody will ever top The Great Ali. To my hero, and my father’s hero. Rest well.

10

I'm not one to judge. I'm not one to let go. But this feeling of hopelessness consumes. My brain is riddled with glass that cuts away at my psyche. “It's because of you, You're why there gone.” I'm so afraid of my own caring nature, I second guess you could say I'm clingy. Second guess I care about you too much. Second guess me. But it's not just the glass that riddles my brain, OR my disbelief in true happiness, It was you. you who came to me to seek shelter, You, who cried sleepless nights away, YOU, who lead me to the fountain of youth, only to chain me to a tree, So close yet so far from happiness. I cried out, I called for you to save me. Only to be left in the hospital she dumped me in.

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Feb 25, 2016

Feb 25, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC

Love in a car, going 50 down the highway

I'm not one to judge. I'm not one to let go. But this feeling of hopelessness consumes. My brain is riddled with glass that cuts away at my psyche. “It's because of you, You're why there gone.” I'm so afraid of my own caring nature, I second guess you could say I'm clingy. Second guess I care about you too much. Second guess me. But it's not just the glass that riddles my brain, OR my disbelief in true happiness, It was you. you who came to me to seek shelter, You, who cried sleepless nights away, YOU, who lead me to the fountain of youth, only to chain me to a tree, So close yet so far from happiness. I cried out, I called for you to save me. Only to be left in the hospital she dumped me in.

18

Never, a word of faltering hope. Even when it's used for reassurance it's sound punctures like a knives into my skin. But it's not always a hurting word, never. We learn from it, nothingness consuming, watching as it lets go of hope in the face of danger, never. Could it be changed? Never. Perhaps always.

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Feb 19, 2016

Feb 19, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC

Never

Never, a word of faltering hope. Even when it's used for reassurance it's sound punctures like a knives into my skin. But it's not always a hurting word, never. We learn from it, nothingness consuming, watching as it lets go of hope in the face of danger, never. Could it be changed? Never. Perhaps always.

7

Boxes of chocolate, Bouquets of roses for you. All alone today. This tanka is meant for you, Kiss my *** you god of love.

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Feb 19, 2016

Feb 19, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC

Cupid's Tanka

Boxes of chocolate, Bouquets of roses for you. All alone today. This tanka is meant for you, Kiss my *** you god of love.

5

Dear Mortal Enemy, In our lives we have carefully avoided each other. But in every happenstance we meet there is no refuge. If you could look back on a time before. Maybe we were even friends once. A Man Who Is Tired Of Fighting, Simon Clark Dear Depression, What is your motive for killing me? Did I do something wrong? Or is it because I’m still alive? The Immortal Simon Clark Dear Human C.H.I.L.D. Please treat me W.E.L.L. I am for learning how to S.P.E.L.L. Don’t press my buttons too H.A.R.D. Learn to spell, Speak & S.P.E.L.L.

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Feb 16, 2016

Feb 16, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC

Letter Poetry

Dear Mortal Enemy, In our lives we have carefully avoided each other. But in every happenstance we meet there is no refuge. If you could look back on a time before. Maybe we were even friends once. A Man Who Is Tired Of Fighting, Simon Clark Dear Depression, What is your motive for killing me? Did I do something wrong? Or is it because I’m still alive? The Immortal Simon Clark Dear Human C.H.I.L.D. Please treat me W.E.L.L. I am for learning how to S.P.E.L.L. Don’t press my buttons too H.A.R.D. Learn to spell, Speak & S.P.E.L.L.

19