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 Jan 2019 Desmond the poet
eileen
Saw it coming
months away
in my sleep
in my dreams
an afternoon
midnight silence
I saw it coming
miles away
heard it in the wind
water screamed
to me
I saw it coming
in a tree
in a cloud
in my frown
my eyes screamed at me
I failed
I failed
I failed
do you want to know more about me now
I'm not perfect
do you want to talk to me now
I saw it coming
I just didn't want you to see it
I saw it coming
I failed
I knew every morning
this was coming
I didn't care
I still kept going

Now that I've failed
everyone screams at me
everyone looks at me
everyone asks for me
now that I've failed
everyone wants to scare me
I'm weak
I'm not perfect
I'm sorry I took off my mask
when you least expect it

you must hate me now
I should blame myself
////////  a little they don't know
kills my soul  ///////
Last night I dreamed that you were mine
And I was happy at that moment
I was at peace

But then I woke up
And I realized that you will never be mine
And then I started to cry
When people ask me
Why poetry
Why not pick a paying profession

Take hold this truth
That I'm laying on you
In which there is a valuable lesson

If you do what you like
You're going to find
Life holds treasure in wonder

Instead of the dough
Taking you out in its tow
And then pulling you under

When you're doing things
Think more the gifts they bring
And not money to be made

When people ask me
Why poetry
Do I really need to say
 Jul 2018 Desmond the poet
em
recently
I got a little older,
learned a lesson or two,
like how loving someone
could never be as poetic
as I wanted it to.
like how nothing
would ever be as poetic
as I wanted it to.
how can I accept
that the miracle of love
isn’t really a miracle at all?
how can I wrap myself
in someone’s arms
when I know
that there isn’t any sort
of poetic loving involved?
how do I unlearn
the romantic thoughts
that taught me
about the fireworks,
the butterflies,
and the fluttering fingers
in the dark.
and accept that
maybe kissing
won’t be as spiritual as I thought.
maybe it’s really just a mouth on mine.
how do I unlearn my innocent heart
who lulled me into a false sense of hope
for a lover who would call
the way my body moves
art.
a lover who would feel
the poetry
in every word
I spoke in the dark.
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 Jun 2018 Desmond the poet
Blake
My love go to your nearest sea,
Once there close your sweet eyes my love.

Then leave your porcelain bones and skin,
Let your elegant precious soul drift over the deep blue sea.

I’ll leave shore too my love,
And my lonely soul will float towards you.

We will meet in the great clouds of blue,
You will have one forbidden touch and I’ll have two sips of your gold.

We just can’t mix my love,
They will know when we get back home.

Just embrace me until the tides pull us away,
I promise we will meet on ground one day.
My Love x
Distance is worst than time. But both play devil games.
A beloved building turn to ashes.
Priceless artworks swallowed by fire.
Everything lost nothing saved.

Only a burn empty shell remains.
Lost for words nothing left to say.

Wondering what will happen next?.
Wondering if it can be saved.
Not holding my breath.
I wrote this for the Glasgow school of art so heart breaking that has been turn to ashes
I have a disability
Because it is lack of memory
Others refuse to accept it is
The way my mind shall be
After testing my memory
The PhD of Neuropsychology
Agreed that I suffer with
Cognitive impairment, MCI
My forgetfulness is here to stay
With me until I die
Yes, I can exercise my brain
It may help a bit, still I will forget
So just accept it!! PLEASE QUIT
Telling me to exercise my brain
I know my limitations best, oh Yes!
Everyone telling me to try to remember is really what
Drives me insane!!!
I have tried my hardest everyday
For years I have been fooling You
All in so many ways!
Now the truth has escaped
It is a relief, I must say
I am so tired of  playing
The main role on the stage
Every single day!!
Please, all of you quit telling me
To exercise my memory
If this was happening to you,
God forbid, then perhaps you
Would understand me when I say
I am tired, oh so tired, of striving
for just an ounce of memory
Day after day!!!!
So again I say
Please, just let me be Me!
The Ole' lady with memory disability
THIS IS ME, ₩€ND¥°•°°•°•°°•°•°°•°•°°•°•°
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