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Oct 2018 · 527
scatter-brained
Bobby Dodds Oct 2018
tired of these late assignments,
although I make good grades.
bored of mundane busy-work,
even if it helps my brain.
I'm interested in the arts,
and running is fun too.
but boy oh boy how great it is,
to sit down, and be with you.
you see how this poem has no real meaning and/or a concrete subject. how it changes course without any reason.
that's what depression is like
Oct 2018 · 270
molasses
Bobby Dodds Oct 2018
molly's hair, **** hair.
show's the bi-polar,
but not the bear.
molly's hair, **** hair.
bi-polar hair don't care.
Oct 2018 · 698
finally fall
Bobby Dodds Oct 2018
autumn skies and pumpkin pies.
great orange fields, large in size,
leaf turns to leaf as gold comes to see;
what excitement to behold, and how happy to be.
nippy air and extra layers of sleeves.
bitter cold air as my breath comes alive.
wisping away, fast deep into loving lives.
Oh October is here and I feel just happy!  
to be with everyone with hair blowing shaggy.
I love this time, and I hope i explained why.
it's these
autumn skies
and
sweet salient sighs.
Alright everyone autumn and fall are finally here ( in Texas at least) and i'm beaming with joy right now because it's finally gonna be cold again.
Oct 2018 · 246
weightless words.
Bobby Dodds Oct 2018
it's hard to write when you don't feel.
because then you just throw around words with meaningless weight .
i try to embrace my trace amounts of hate,
but even then.
nothing comes, weird how that most seem.
I'm happy...I think,
well i'm not sad at the least.
so, then, what am I?
or,
what should I feel?
should i be happy because i'm not sad,
or sad because i have to be sad in order to be happy.
or do i need either to feel either?
I just don't know.
or,
i just don't feel
well, i think i became emotionally detached. bets me this is a poetry website not a blog i can complain somewhere else.
Oct 2018 · 222
thanks for all that.
Bobby Dodds Oct 2018
You made me happy,
now all I am is sad.
Oct 2018 · 250
stray cat thoughts
Bobby Dodds Oct 2018
I'm just another cat,
with hopes of living in a house.
or ruling the dog,
but all I sadly can do.
is barely catch a mouse.
man animals aren't people but they sure seem better than them
Sep 2018 · 148
us, the writers.
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
Who are we?
what,
are we.
we are the creators.
the illustrators.
not of words,
but creation itself.
this is who we are, this is are community and no one outside can understand.
Sep 2018 · 266
what do I want
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
give it to me straight,
I already write in stanza's and metaphors.
so give it to me plain.
you expect me to be who I am.
but push me to be someone i'm not.
what do you want?
what do,
I want.
i'm not sure.
the only thing I wanted,
was for you to stop wanting.
me,
to  not be.
me.
maybe I also,
want me,
to not
be.
i'm here and i'm here to get something done, I ain't looking for pity.
I know I don't belong. I just want to know if you want me to tag along
Sep 2018 · 6.9k
The cubicle disaster.
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
Isolation within my mind,
Stuck in my kell, gasping at the heat
Working till death to finish my design,
Running late, borderlines to meet.
A hero of management,
An Hr call left at the tone.
Stuck in my cubicle fortress.
The place I'm forced to call home.
I don't wanna be stuck in the loop of the cubicle slaughterhouses.
Sep 2018 · 119
the hidden
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
the hidden are not hidden,
only slightly departed,
buried beneath brick,
on top of brick,
on top of brick.
they lie there departed.
in silence of fear.
wondering when they'll be found,
found, find, and founded
the hidden among us.
Sep 2018 · 216
small towns.
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
I don't want to grow up in a Podunk hick-billy town,
but I don't want to be part of the white bread, corn cooking crowd.
I want to be respectable,
a spectacle.
someone that's out there, hiding in her dreams.
I don't want to generalize my sentiments.
but i don't want say i'm still free.
i don't want to stay on my rails,
but i don't want to make my own trails.
i want to be dependable,
all sensible.
recollectable from all of everyone's memory's
Sep 2018 · 105
what to do what to do.
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
what to do what to do,
in this cluttered mind of mine.
should I do my work,
or stay in bed,
oh what to do what to do.

it seems I'm writing poetry,
trying to make people.
get to start knowing me.
oh lord,
what should I do.

I guess I want to go somewhere.
I think it might be fun,
if I could go,
and play in the snow,
all I ever get is sun.

maybe I want some rain,
thunder in my mind.
confusing wild and weird.
I really wonder why.
Sep 2018 · 1.0k
The real meaning
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
Maybe it's to enjoy the downfall of what you knew was to fall anyways.
That is life, anyways.
Maybe its working long and hard. just to sit down in the end, and stare a thousand yards.
Maybe it's not about the finish line, the starting line, or the journey in between.
Maybe it's just knowing that it happened,
And that's what makes us gleam.
Maybe enjoying the fruits of our labor is what keeps us going till we actually to get to reap the benefits of the work, but by then you would of moved on. And enjoyed it in the past-tense
Sep 2018 · 1.8k
monsters in my closet.
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
night just wants some sun and the sun wants to sleep
but neither can get either with being alone every week.
some people sleep all alone every night
and that's what scares me to death.
am I one of these fools,
or can I follow these rules.
and that's why I'm so scared of my bed.
the monsters in the closet are just my memory's in deposit.
so I can sleep like the rest of the dead.
i know i'm not one
to laugh or complain
but weirdly my pain,
is the only thing
that wants to keep me sane.
for better or worse, we all have a Cain.
who would stick us in the heart.
if only he could remain.
the many monsters in this world do you good, causing pain by keeping us still[ sane
Sep 2018 · 143
Can you come along with me?
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
Can you come with me please?
It would be nice to see the scenes.
I miss you in my pictures.
And all our days spent climbing trees.
I can't explain my feelings,
But I want to say to you.
Our days will end, with you and me.
And together we can be happy.
Happy till our happy end.

Our childhood was funny,
Middle school was so much fun.
Our teens we wished to dumb.
Can you come along with me?
I want you next to me.

We can sing all day
Or laugh and play.
Because we're happy
Together.
But sometimes scrappy.
To me that's fine.
Because you're so beautifully kind.

Can you come always with me?
To watch the buzzing bees.
To gaze at starry nights.
To laugh and live alright.
To take our flight and make a dive.
To see an end and welcome friends.
To be with me
Until
Our happy end.
An attempt to describe an oddly specific and hard to understand feeling. So, would you like to come with?
Sep 2018 · 7.6k
imagination is like a kite
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
whisk me away on a ship that's not there.
To an island full of gators! that have been covered in hair.
exploring misty mountains! and climbing epic trees!
diving to the bottom, of the air in the breeze.
imagine a life like that, think of life full of tales!
fighting great monsters, that has a full nine tails!
take me away to a life just with you,
to a world of bickering, but never between two.
now the Lord calls us in, to sleep in her kites.
dreams of flying high, and falling in love with the night.
as you dream away beneath me, I wonder sad and clear.
what comes of tomorrow, if the air is mighty queer?
do we stay inside our castle and find an evil spy?
or go outside in the gales?
and let our imagination,
take flight.
taking flight is hard to do with out someone to fly the kite.
Sep 2018 · 229
whimsical wondering.
Bobby Dodds Sep 2018
sometimes I wonder,
sometimes way to late at night.
I think about my plunder,
and my life before I had any real sight.
I ponder the actual point,
of life, god, and love.
I think about the way that life always blunders along,
a never ending train, and a never ending song.
when we fade away from time, from minds across the worlds.
I wonder if the earth remembers all our crimes,
from breaking hearts to stealing pearls,
we're all guilty from budding till we curl.
In many ways we're a flower,
in many ways we're not.
I wonder what they're seeing
and I wonder what their not.
i guess they wonder too, about life. probably a lot
because what's the point of living.
if your wondering is always naught .
Aug 2018 · 1.0k
Garden of dreams
Bobby Dodds Aug 2018
I keep a garden of weeds,
They're so hard to pull out,
But the always seem to grow back.
Seldom I follow the guides,
That tell me what to plant.
The seeds I sow,
Always lose their row.
And everything fades away to black.
Black confused planting
Aug 2018 · 136
Your wondeful lies.
Bobby Dodds Aug 2018
I've made my bed
I know what I've said.
But i still fill my brain full of lies.
The ugly bliss
Of satisfaction almost missed,
Like a a truth
That was secretly a lie.
A wonderful thought,
Comforting you think,
but really it's not.
Its a tear down your face,
As you tear holes in your face.
With your own self-righteous lies.
You do it for yourself,
it would be nice if it helped.
But it does nothing,
But make me cry.
It's been an interesting week so far, thanks all of you that are on this page, albeit only 3,
Thanks those of you that have seen and enjoyed I really don't know what else to do.
Aug 2018 · 218
I'm too tired
Bobby Dodds Aug 2018
I'm too tired,
And It's going to get me fired.
My family doesn't work
My mother forces stuff on me like a ****.
My brother is dysfunctional and lazy
All my happy memories seem to be hazy.
I'm too tired to be bored and glad
Only sad.
I'm too distracted to see what's right,
I'm only really able to see what I did wrong.
My fathers half way crazy
And my brain is falling apart.
I'm too tired for your assignment.
Because I can't seem to get my life back into alignment
God I'm so tired from all this, poetry really is the only way I can seem to understand my self and my problems
Aug 2018 · 161
A life left perfect.
Bobby Dodds Aug 2018
A mountain full of pressure,
Close to pouring at the seams.
A tree full of ants,
And those ants running with seeds.
A cliff upon an overlook,
A beach upon a sea.
A life left perfect,
A life wasted on me.
No point in trying to end it,
If you waste that perfect life with me.
Happy one today, I think this was inspired by a past happiness in my life.
Aug 2018 · 338
My lovely rain.
Bobby Dodds Aug 2018
She sits on the air, and talks with the breeze.
She walks with that style, and mocks me as I freeze.
I swear she stopped a rain storm,
And you could swear she just said no.
She's a mountain of power, and an engine of burning coal.
Those eyes sharp as glass, and slicker than some ice.
I swore to her I'd stop, but I kept it going on thrice.
I never knew she felt, I didn't think she could.
But I saw her there, weeping, and tugging, and pulling out her hair.
I knew then I was nothing, nothing to her, but pain,
taking away the joy, of her. My Beloved rain.
(This is actually something I wrote trying to see through the perspective of a boy)
Aug 2018 · 6.8k
A goofy book.
Bobby Dodds Aug 2018
Well I wrote a silly book
And filled it with solemn words.
And put the cantos in.
But wrote them in reverse.
There was a haiku,
I put on some page.
But instead of seven syllables.
I thought it was the seventh page.
Picture poetry is fun
But I couldn't paint, only write.
I put a poem in,
But it's hard to understand,
Cause when I thought I wrote it,
I wrote on my hand.
Its a goofy book of things,
That you never knew could be.
Why don't you come and see
This goofy book of things,
That You never thought should be.
This is kind of what I would think shel sliverstein writes like.
Aug 2018 · 1.4k
My prison.
Bobby Dodds Aug 2018
I built a prison of paper,
But I willingly let it stand.

To keep my self tethered
To these words only I can understand.

It keeps out the angels,
And keeps my demons in.

So no one can be affected,
From the enemy hidden within.

It's a fortresses built on lies,
with foundations crumbling down.

But I'm happy with being crushed,
As long as you can never frown.
This is something i made talking about how I really only understand the words on the paper and its easier for me to live within them

— The End —