Can you hold my hand so I don't fall?
Even though happiness pays me,
Like she owes me debt,
Sadness still comes a'knocking,
Looking for little bills and floor pennies.
Because I didn't put money,
In his street jam cup.
Though he'd just buy bottles of melancholy with it.

Pick up the move and room it,
No I think I'd rather zoom it,
Here he goes again,
Over thinking brain cells shrinking,
Till he can't s ell ca se  e's mis ing the le  ers.
I'll store 'em down here so they don't get lost,
puh stt puh stt puh stt
Sounds like a drum!

I try to describe the way she moves,
Though I fail to write a proper example.
So I move to painting,

Yet I just can't capture all her stunning stride,
In acrylics and canvas.

So I'll try to see if I can ever write it out again.

As we grow,
We mature.
Our ideas change,
So does our nature.
I don't want to instigate,
As much as I want to love now.
I used to want to rule an empire,
But now I'll settle for common things.
Settle down with my queen,
I'll last forever, if she lets me.

As we grow,
We lose touch.
Of each little thing we know,
Everything we loved so much.
I no longer feel aggression,
The same way I feel peace.
I may be tired,
But I'm just tuckered out,
I've learned to sleep.

Don’t reconcile with a rebel,
If you’re scared to run with rebellion.

Don’t you try and cook,
If you’re scared of being burnt.

The trampling feet of warriors,
And the licking flames of devotion,
Will cast your foolish soul to the ocean.

When asked about how to earn confidence and respect,
An old rail monopolist answered the following;

'When in interest and pursuit of respect,
A peaceful man must learn how to wield a sword.
Whether or not that may be figuratively or literally,
The quietest must teach themselves to yell the loudest.
Then once they are fit to chase away the thunder storms,
To slaughter the lightning and winds,
They have earned confidence and respect within.'

Looking over the canyon,
Grand and conniving,
A grim smile across the broken earth.

My voices echoes from it's bounds,
Without the faithful demeanor from which it came.
It calls back to me in the gambit of hatred,
'Shall you let evil rise again, or will you ***** your hand to end it.'

Cold winter's eve,
A peasant man mourns in the cold,
Tears all full, falling to his child's grave.

An angel then descended from the sky,
Remorseful for the great loss of his,
While she wrapped her wings around him,
She sighed and sung.

God made the stars,
He made them so you may see the eyes of your beloved,
When they return to his graceful arms.

I am a dead tree,
Hallowed branches waving in solemnity.
Wind whispering through my skeleton,
They tell lies to the young sprouts of the forests.
Convince them that not only is life a foolish game,
It's a foolish game they're losing.
An old soul, I stood tall watching poets come,
Then I began to wilt as I watched poets go.
The eyes that once admired my growth,
Turned to fingerprints and memory.
My bark is riddled with stories,
All the lovers that made a promise on my skin,
Leaving the now grim scars of foreshadowing.
I am a dead tree,
Hallowed branches waving in solemnity.

See you in the snow,
No daze or fog could distract,
My eyes from my love.

I got a chicken sandwich,
I was hungry as a witch,
But how I was disappointed,
It was so underdone I was plucking feathers out it!

When you play Magic; The Gathering,
You gotta understand what color you are inside,
That way you can play your color better.
You could be white like the plains,
Focused on order and loyalty,
Keeping a tight fist on your life.
You could be black like a swamp,
Willing to give anything,
To obtain everything.
You could be blue like an island,
Logical and cold,
Doing the hard job of saying no.
You could be red like a mountain,
Fiery and bold,
Ready to rage out on your enimies.
You could be green like a forest,
Big and boisterous,
Here for the friends and things.

The world has a problem,
Hope is running out,
And love is in short supply.

So lets start a charity,
Giving out free hope,
And all kinds of love.

Scrapbook Poem #140

'Maybe it was the journey all along.'
I laugh,
Didn't seem like it at first,
But I guess the treasure was the friends we made along the way.

I will stay with you,
Even when the times are hard,
We can make stone soup.

I'd like to take you to the beach in Marblehead,
When the summer nights are warm.
Take you out to dinner,
Show you the riches of my homeland.
Then I'll hold your hand, walk you to the sands,
Where we can be hidden from the world,
Hidden enough to dance amongst the waves.
Spinning, dipping, gliding across the grains,
Hands on your skin, lips on your own.
When we tire we can retire,
Down on a blanket, I'll cradle you,
We can watch the stars fly by.
Maybe I'll get to watch you,
Dance another groove.

I have but two eyes,
And ten fingers,
To write words,
And hold pens.

But just enough,
To write poems,
And send them into the world.

Of course I'll give a standing ovation,
A loud course of applause,
Make sure they hear me cheering.

Because if you don't clap for your enemies,
They'll think it was you when they fall.

February 14th 2025,
The yearly anniversary of he who failed to fall,
To the crushing hand of prosecution.
The day, a symbol of love,
Congratulations Mr. Douglass,
That's what we got.
Happy birthday to a spirit of liberty,
And cheers to equal freedoms.

Heyyy Babyyy
I appreciate you like nothing else.
Happy Valentines!!
I hope things are going good,
I love you so much you drive me crazy,
And I'll kiss you again when I can,
You're the best I've ever had,
Happy Valentiness

Why I never heard music so tasteful,
With a woman so graceful.
Falling to sleep in her arms,
As the choirs gently serenade us.
Lip to lip as the lights dim,
Hand on her thigh, just how she likes it.
I'll never be able to love you the same,
Not after feeling you like this.

Almost to 50,
Just about half-way more.
I need a mass of poets,
Poets galore.
So to the new poets who've just joined,
We need your help,
Have you considered 300?

I was Alexander the great,
Rolling through Greece conquering.
I was Romeo Montague,
Killed myself over love.
I was Commander Washington,
Blazing through the brits for liberty.
I was me,
Though I left me wondering who I'd be next.

Life is a convection model,
Moving along constantly, randomly,
But that's the beauty of it right?
For if nothing ever got shook up,
I'd have nothing to write.

Well folks,
That was the curtain call,
I guess it's time to call it a wrap.

youre my forever
ill never give you up
im proud of you
i know the battles you fight

Would you believe me,
If I said I was from the future,
That I came back in time,
Because my world ended?

I didn't cherish my little earth,
Because I figured it could never leave me,
And then it did.

What's the sound of one hand clapping?
He asked, I responded,
I know not the sound of a single hand clapping.
Then he slapped me across the face, smiled and said,
That my friend is the sound, now learn before somebody else teaches you.

I stubbed my toe,
On the wall this morning when,
I woke up, again.

Sticky summer evening,
Warm, young, beautiful.
Flitting throughout the night,
Bountiful bundles of fireflies.
Flickering in the breezes,
A soft golden mist.
New summer's evening,
Graced by the lightning bugs.

My income is tentative,
My money comes with the snow,
I thought I was getting paid,
But the rain stole my job.

Morning sun dawns new,
A glowing kiss on the dew,
Shining, just like you.

I just want to feel your touch,
To be with you at every hour,
Everyday.
That's all I want.
I want that, nothing more,
Just you, me, and a blanket snuggled up,
Peaceful with arms wrapped around each other.
That's all I want.

I may be young,
But I'm not stupid,
I'm not unscarred.
Who gave you the authority,
To tell me how I should use art,
For if it wasn't for this outlet,
I don't think I would be here today.
So can't we shake hands,
And understand,
Not everyone walks for the same reasons.

He who writes angry,
Will write nothing of value at all.

He who write in emotion,
Shall write the epidemy of it all.

'Ciao'
'Salve!'
'Un caffe con latte per favore.'
'Un cornetto?'
'No, un caffe con latte.'
'Ah, un gelato!'
'No! Un caffe con latte!'
'Latte con zuchero?'
'Why you idiot! I'm asking for a coffee!'
'Scusa?'
'...'

Come flower child,
Join the rest,
In the autumn fields abloom.

Come flower child,
Join the patch,
In the rolling hills of autumn.

Come flower child,
Lay to rest,
Just like all the others.
Who came to the autumn fields,
Lined with stones.

I sit, heart still, not beating,
A lone soul amongst my own memories,
Which plaster the walls, a putrid stain.
Through the fog of night,
I hear her cries, silent tears of crystal,
Falling to the padded floors, shattering.
Through the crackle of the fire,
I hear her laughter,
A once pretty sound, gone sharp and raw.
Staring aimlessly into my own palms,
Her voice haunts me, has haunted for so long,
So I reach but a single hand to the fire.
Watching the tongues of the flame,
Lick my open flesh,
I smile when the searing begins.
Then fall from my chair,
Crawling to their sound, their loud cackle driving her memory away.
From the flames I rob a charcoaled log,
That which I toss, and another,
Though when the smoke and flame surrounds I know,
I must've been missed when they came to lock her up.

Lay dormant on my lap,
Hand on thigh,
Butterflies.

You make my heart race,
Laying across my,
Own

i want there to be a poem on the front page of a poetry website

is that too much to ask just for one place

where i dont have to think about trump

Give me a minute,
Just a moment,
Where I can sit and breathe,
And there isn't doomsday on your lip.
I pray for happy days,
I wished, I wish, upon a star,
That someday the uproar and hatred,
Will be washed away by ocean waves.

I signed up for Duolingo again,
So when I grow old,
And I am weary of this mortal country,
I may take my aching bones,
To old Italy.
Where I will have coffee,
And read paper news,
That way the old game can't bother me.