Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I have moved to a different drum
With odd and peculiar rhythms
Dancing awkwardly through life
On my two flat clumsy feet
It is not the way I chose
To step on innocent toes
But the wildness of my dance
Has had no easy flow
The blame lies entirely with me
It's a genetic thing, you see
I am no more than this
The son of the gypsy's kiss

                                By Phil Roberts
He smell my desire
Through the warmth of my *******
He is salivating
Lay me down in syrupy Laugh's
Let me laugh myself to death
Let the shine be on my face
And the dirt beneath my
Fragile toes- upsprout
Through my mouth
Let me blossom like
Daisies in the sudden
Show---- lay me down
By the Riverside
Where a fire is
L-i-t and by and
By my hands will
Reach the morning
Sky's----glimpsing
Into the future,
Forgetting my
Past,no heart to
Be sold, my beats
Draw fast, no more
Emptiness of a vessel,
My veins are the pencils
That sketch the world
Around me.
Life dealt you a bad hand of card, so reshuffle the deck. Society is cruel, so be kind in a way that people will take notice. You hear people laugh and snicker, so have a great sense of humor and you might appear on broad way. When others don't get you, write a book about it. When they say you will never get there, just tell them it takes some of us longer than it does others. Always remember you are created unique. There are things about you that are special, you just have to let others know it. When the story of your life is written, it will show that you are amazing.
You begged for my heart
So I gave it to share
But you snatched it away
And left me bare

I asked for it back
Or else I would die
But you didn’t care
You just said goodbye
BOEMS BY JA 505
I once wished I had died before I was born
before tasting the coldness in this world
before the waves that left me tattered and torn
in this place that's never found me the warmth of home
...
nothing would make me want this life till bald
the fun came out of moments being short lived
the laughter happened only after I'd grieved
the kisses sweet and heartfelt for I knew they'd end
because of adversaries I would keep a friend
journeying outta craving the view beyond the bend
passion sent letters and mails but my responses would pend
to me those who wished for an eternity were mean
trust me you'd think like me if you'd see where I've been
yet I find myself wishing this split nano second could be a century
wishing you could last a millennium in the sanctuary
of my arms like I expect you to last in my head
I expect you to live on in my rotting brains after I'm dead
and such thought, such emotions remind me instead
of this old man I once met who while comforting me said

Give her time my son, she will call
that's who destiny is, you'll recall
when the time is nigh, you'll fall
show not the white flag, give it all


eternity was a nightmare,what's to many a cherished dream
if in two decades the cup of my life was tearful to the brim
a drowning man to the straws, no cons to the pros
faith and hope took no front rows, my splinters gave up their roles
for no shard agreed with the other, they argued rather
weaker than every brother, and the more I thought the more the bother
it was either or another, accepted being too splattered to gather
I hurt inside, too confused to decide yet too exposed to hide
the feelings that ground and bit,if I could pretend I could have lied
I showed a white flag, to packets from a single ***
drunk at all times I knew I'd die an emaciated ****
too lonely addicted to a drug, uncomforted with none to hug
then you happened like a hurricane, the wrecked me stole
I can't start to fathom after that what I became, I feel I'm whole
you touch my soul, on my mind from Monday to Sunday
from the January to December thus I remember

Give her time my son, she will call
that's who destiny is, you'll recall
when the time is nigh, you'll fall
show not the white flag, give it all


call when you ain't listening, you'll find when you ain't searching
armless yet so touching,blindly she'll be watching
the old man kept saying, keep praying but though you give up
she'll touch your aching soul unto your heart she'll do a revamp
too young to tell some things we only tell when we're grown  
how I wish I'd known, waste not your youth as I did my own
what's done is done, the past is a place I can't return
a freaking book I can't rewrite,an amazing race I can't rerun
go on, live to remember not to regret son
don't wait for the darkness of old, for the cold to appreciate the sun
the light of youth is momentary and shall outlive your poetry
so

*Give her time my son, she will call
that's who destiny is, you'll recall
when the time is nigh, you'll fall
show not the white flag, give it all
As talent drained from every inch of my mind
I found reading other's work only made me jealous
                   I started to feel unpopular
          Not enough ideas left to create anything at all. Not a single drop of inspiration.

      As all of theses emotions and realizations mixed together

I became okay with copying your work.

       I can imagine you slaving in the dark
Racking your brain to find the perfect words to finish the last line


       Lucky for me I have it all right here, completed and ready to post
     Finished and polished and prepackaged with a message I didn't think of but everyone will commend me for.




    *I hope you enjoy it.
Not actually plagiarized. Just tired of seeing others plagiarize on here.
I picked a flower in May just to watch her blossom all for myself
Beautiful and brilliant I sat her in a glass on a shelf
I added water so she wouldn't go dry
Magnificence such as hers I couldn't let die
I watched as she grew
Time flew and flew
Her petals orange and blue like a vanilla sky
As she prospered and danced I noticed a change
Something very strange that caught my eye
Her stems became vines intertwined simultaneously with my poetry and life
In place of green,
She overflowed out of the glass in white sheets of paper
And it was there she made her illustration so divine
A perfect drawing of a heart
That turned out to be mine
I stop in my tracks,
          Listening

  A hollow
clinking in the darkness.
In an alleyway, somewhat familiar,
Vacant and forgotten in the twilight hours
Except for the lingering cigarette smoke
And the scent of frigid, dehumanizing hate

  And a
clink
Low and somehow beneath the dense, dank dark

  A sound disillusioning and honed to a fine point, like that of a blade meant to harvest death

  A
clink
And another
clink

                           There is a man sitting near the end of the alley
                           At the back of the throat of Hell itself
                           He has his head down
                           But through the thick black smudge of night
                           I can still see the base of a brown glass bottle tap the bottom of an upper row of teeth

He stops, and looks up at me with eyes that resemble mine a little too much for my comfort

                                    He brings the bottle down, and lowers his head, gazing at it as if for the first time
                                    Suddenly he snaps his eyes up to mine, instantly staring into the deep void of apathy that looks back.
                                    He smiles a knowing smile, and slams the bottle against his teeth.
  


              It does much more than *
clink.
Next page