Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
a key
f r e e d o m,
wave our flags
and renounce our forfeit
b e l i e v e
and place the crown upon thee
for standing
^u p^
and turning the key
that enables our country's
d i g n i t y
we fight
to protect
we deserve
r   e   s   p   e   c   t
for as a team
we take the throne
they are coming home
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
There was a bumble bee
with six legs and three teeth;
he was romantically involved
with the flea across the street.
When they got together
it was sticky and serene,
bee got what he wanted
for just fifty bucks a week.
though it was not serious,
it truly was a fling,
the flea's attempt to break it off
inspired a fatal sting!
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
I need a clear sky
a clear head
a sunrise, 
a fresh breath of pure life,
a symphony of wind chimes.
The  form of a dandelion 
is compromised by wind,
as the seeds float aimlessly 
among it's master's drift.
Patience is a virtue 
unworthy of rebirth,
you only  got one shot 
of loyalty on planet earth.
So the dandelion waits 
For it's land into the dirt,
loyal to it's nature,
A confident reserve.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
I feel there is a poem
trying to claw it's way out,
as I pound the keyboard without grace
and express beyond a doubt.
I sense a light of hope each day,
because she holds me with a loving embrace
that takes the pain away.
There's a dark shadow that
casts over me as I close the door,
she returns back to reality
and leaves me all alone.
I believe she will be able
to come back to me someday,
She loves me so, that's all I know,
so I'll sit here and wait.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
this age of existence strikes
an honesty that prevails
it disappoints the generations
perhaps this age has failed

liberal humanism condemns
America's noble stance
a selfish congregation builds
a mosque on hallowed land

for we elected those
who dug us in a hole
in debt, our freedom spent
and now this wretched toll

it's about sensitivity,
we need a peace of mind-
change, our leader must make,
but he's on vacation all the time
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
I am an italicized remark,
your spicy punctuation;
I am your steamy satisfaction,
your permanent vacation.
A unique innuendo,
a read between the lines;
I am a story like no other
as I lick between your thighs.
from Cosmo,
The New Yorker;
A romantic gentleman lover.
A sweet wine you taste-test
and lick around my lips,
I am a kiss you can't resist-
a naked sweat, a seductive bliss.
I am the palm that stings the skin,
a ***** spank than burns within.
I am a moaning, seeping ******
that rumbles with percussion.
I am your emphasized description
although no adjective does justice.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
I am not used to taking risks. Many barriers tend to block my train of thought and my decision-making. Now that I was lying at the bottom of the trash, I could talk; I could think straight. I had no distractions or punishments, even though there was no need for deciding anything. I felt free because I knew he had given up on me. I felt like a meaningless particle of the planet when I was under Master’s control. At least plastic was used to create something else. But not me! No! I could not be used for anything else; I just got thrown away. I couldn’t say I was completely oblivious towards my lifespan. I had an idea of what was going to happen. There I was at the bottom of the trash; knowing that my master’s next victim had already been chosen to take my former position in his soaking, swampy hand. Master acted like he worked so hard; he should have been ashamed of himself. Because lying crippled within those dark suffocating walls of that garbage basket was HIS doing. I do not take risks. Those crumpled up papers began to fall upon me like rain and it felt like I was being buried alive.
I don’t remember my birth or the first few years of my life. My psychology teacher told me about how you cannot remember the first 2-3 years because of the brain’s progression in growth. The first thing I remembered was waking up in a box, locked in place by my neck and feet. My family was nowhere to be found. I did not even remember being apart of one. There were four others enslaved with me at the time. They were not my family, but they dressed like me, which scared me a little. The loud noise of slicing scissors pierced my ears and a small stream of light entered the cardboard box when the top was cracked open. The first sight of the Master’s obese fleshy hand brought motion to my bowels as a feeling of failed screams collapsed around my throat. I had no voice, I had no mouth. Was it welded shut or was I created incorrectly? Watching the way Master’s large hand devoured the poor ******* next to me and yanked him out of the box brought an immediate knowledge of trouble upon me. I was frightened because my opinions were insignificant and I didn’t know what to do to gain control.
We were transferred from our holding shackles to a less-captivated holding system. I don’t know what it was, but we were with many others; lost and stupid. The light blinded me at first, it was more open and I could see clearer. I would have gotten myself into trouble… or maybe not. The sight was horrifying because it enabled me to witness it all. Master was unfair and he had no patience, like me. When a victim needed a break or was tired, he banged its head on the desk (or the paper) or threw it across the room. When the victim was not meeting the Master’s needs, he squeezed it harder and harder while banging its tip more. If a victim was useless to Master, he threw it away without a care. That same poor ******* that was next to me ended up in the trash after a day and a half because it couldn’t finish transcribing Master’s C’s or A’s. I would’ve transcribed his C’s and A’s; and his M, O, T, R, F, K, R’S too! I hope master sweats himself to death. I knew my time would come. I knew I would end up just like the rest of the poor and helpless. When my juice ran out, the five of us from the box would be back together- empty and cold.
I sometimes wished I was not smarter than Master. I didn’t have a mouth, but my narrow cap surely consisted of a larger brain, I’ll tell you that. I sure wished I could have taught him; him and those sweaty palms, a thing or two about our existence! He should have been grateful I was there and he should have given the respect he did not deserve to get. He probably didn’t know that he would’ve been using a chisel and a rock if it wasn’t for me! I sure as hell was saving Master a lot of time. If my uniqueness was not available, Master would have been wasting hours of his time to create one word. I wonder if the chisel used to say the same things I said during those horrible events of slavery and cruelty. Chisel probably never received punishment. It was probably buffed and puffed and sharpened and cared for. So why couldn’t I just get a re-fill?! But still, Master didn’t care. He wouldn’t have sharpened my tip if I were a chisel. He’d let me rot and throw me away because it was all in the same to him. Master wouldn’t have cared if I informed him about the chisel. I probably would’ve received more of a punishment if I was able to speak.
After my ink ran out, there I was within the bottom of the garbage basket. This was exactly what I expected. I couldn’t lie, I was kind of glad it was all over. I was so sick of Master’s crap by then. Those sweaty palms got the best of me and that impatient anger caused my juices to run fast. I was developing a realization about Master’s endeavor. He threw me away too early. Usually, our species would be thrown away when death occurred. I was lying in that trash very much alive when I began to glance at my previous struggle. Those papers devoured my appearance while they exposed every waking memory that my hard work had created. When the papers stopped falling, there was nothing else to think about. The memories began to fade away after every word I read. I couldn’t help but recognize the mistakes that Master forced me to make. At that instant, I only wanted to go back and edit the foolishness that was transcribed onto those papers. I wanted an opinion. I simply desired to have my voice heard; I wish I had one. As free as I was, I still couldn’t make that happen; even after I was hurled into the trash- as if I was some useless implement. This was like being under some Calvinistic rule. My fate had been an adversarial predetermination, no matter how much I followed the rules.
It was a sensible act to throw me out. Master appropriately responded when I was of no use for him. He should have thrown me out when he snatched me out of the box like a piece of paper towel entangled within the roll. I was useless from the beginning. I couldn’t stand up to myself and I couldn’t make a difference whatsoever. I collapsed within myself when the words on the paper began to fade as I scanned each line. The scriptures came to a halt; I realized I was as dead as any other useless implement that previously suffered within these very same haunting walls. There was nothing else I could do. I was banished to freedom. I achieved the freedom to originate nothing. So that’s what I did… nothing. I wished I could speak; at least I would’ve gotten something in before I became the excrement that master walked upon. I closed my eyes and patiently waited for death to overwhelm me as I listened to Master’s distant grunting in silence.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
His bar stool creaks,
quaking ice rattles
as he examines his glass .
His finger swirling liquor, 
compressing flavors 
with ease and contentment.

He sits 
He waits with great patience
and a whiskey drink.
Classy choice, I must say.
I wonder if his blind date
Will feel the same...
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
I'm trying to grow the courage
but the telephone won't reach for me
there's a number on the napkin 
from a resturant down the street
my only lame excuse is..
Is that a seven or a three?
Is it hot in here or is it just me?
I don't know why I hesitate
because you're the one who inked your name
expecting to be my lucious date.
Don't waste your time; you'll only wait 
for my dispicible call of shame.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
There is something in the way you taste.
Your milk-white temptation surrounds you
Like midnight darkness within the fields of peace.
I only have a craving to devour you.
The need for you to become potent inside of me
Gives me hope for another day.
A second chance-
A privilege you will never have the authority to stimulate.
It is just something in the way you taste…
© Christopher Rossi, 2007
There is an open book upon the windowsill of my brain,
The rays singe a clarity across its blank pages
With a bonding so thick
So gripping on a memory unspoken of,
Undeniably ignored.
So clear and brown among the peace of paper,
a stain seeps through the creases of mistakes not erased. 
A windowsill of white,
stained dark color from the waste.
A book so pure
polluted with distaste.
A book so destroyed
cannot be replaced.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
A spotlight shining 
down gives significance to my face 
and draws attention to the beings among the dark surrounding space.
The microphone 
a massive fit within my cotton mouth:  my voice amplifies a welcome to the crowd with booming sound. 
Too late now, 
No turning back I preach my lines with charm 
as every beady eye investigates my nervous calm.  
Need for alarm; my sweaty palms collapse a desperate grip upon 
the silent seated people unresponsive to my drum.
Rising from their seats,
they aim for their retreat- 
FINE! turn your back on poetry 
don't listen to my speech!
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
There’s only one love for me
There’s only one love for me
There’s only one love for you?
Well, I heard you had two…

It takes two to tango
But I got two left feet,
And I bet he sweeps you off yours.
Swept, but *****.

There was only one love for me
There was only one love for me
On my heart, I tend to choke.
I have abolished my soul 
my mind my throat

onto this way the dance of dismay
You leave me here 
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
zips across thine eye
fields of somber song
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Out of the deep
Depths of darkness,
We crawl from the
Evil that taunts us.
The struggles and strife
That life leans upon us-
Frantic and determined,
We are naked and harmless.
Evil might be convinced to believe
That we are weak in the knees,
It's up to me to succeed in life
Even without the wings of Achilles.
Forever give me power
As bright red as fire,
To be the best I can be
As this evil surrounds me.

*Copyright Christopher Rossi 2014
A soft smooth motion 
across the skin of your feet-
A peaceful touch of grace 
that strokes the knots and
relieves the strain.
The stressful day complete,
no bickering or complaints.
This calm, this quiet 
must remain for the sake of our brains
You must realize,
It's the end of the day-
You're safely at home
And everything is okay.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
One foot in front of the other
there is no turning back now
I've come this far and lost 
my sense of time, honestly
the righteous path of decency.

She came and went and came right back.
I'm a sucker for despair and apologies, I swear.
She hurt me once, she'll hurt me again
Life is a continuous lesson
even when your dead.

Am I stubborn? weak?
I take my next step forward I speak
inside my head as dreams of honest women remain a mirage I cannot make

She came and went and came right back.
I'm a sucker for despair and apologies; too kind and forgiving.
This life is too **** short. 
But not short enough for me to be 
the one to pull the plug this time.
You'll See...
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
She rides into forever 
on my wings of grace,
so elusive so tender 
forever and a day.

My protruding splendor 
nonvacant heart detained, 
she is a promising reservation
of forever and a day.

We lay on a bed of air
She whispers in ear
and promises infinity, 
forever and a day.

A solid bond of harmony
Forever and a day with me.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
It's cold outside and the birds don't sing
when my birthday strikes me once again.
I shovel snow the sleet the sand,
the weather does the best it can.
The wind it blows and the gravel freezes,
Antarctic disaster pieces.
But there's one thing that makes my day
I'm her Capricorn in every way.
It's cold outside, I gaze from within
She steps to me, I touch her skin.
She brings a grace I cannot replace
this Capricorn has found his fate.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Dampened delicate lily pedals 
they mingle, dancing among my dimples;
forcing a gleeful grin of ecstasy.
Everlasting evidence of appreciated elegance,
the pedals 
and dangle on my necklace.
A solemn oath of love proven loosely by a touch,
like the roots that bind a willow tree to Mother Nature's cuff.
A touch so refined, a grasp of divine certainty-
blistering my lips is a perfect love,
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
a girl with
a personality,
expensive taste,
soft skin and                     an honest embrace...
                                               that is what I want.
honesty is a rare trait these days,
in a world of animosity,
all seem phony all betray.
                    As I escape my fate
                                               I become my own face-
society around me
is different from me,
As the day begins to fade,
my work is done; a drink, I say!
A drink I'll have in Gonzo's Pub
to escape the people's fray.

A Girl...
with honesty
that is what I want...
                                               I'll take another shot please...
© Christopher Rossi, December 27, 2010
There used to be
a time when I was broken;
Laid in between the sheets
I trace the swirls across my ceiling.
The angels weep upon my lips
that left the words unspoken.
I alone.

There was a time when I was stolen;
coerced into those selfish pathways,
blinded from the right and wrong way,
your intimate control grips my neck- choking.
I alone.

I was deceitful, left broken.
We had a loss of words, you see,
there was neither fate nor destiny.
I stand to fix these tangled sheets, unfolded.
I alone.

I alone,
myself and me.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
I dream of the wind on a Fall day,
in the everglades.
I've never been but I pretend I've laid
on the peaceful green grasses that grow
before the sun went down so slow.

My dream diminishes that peaceful thought
and the moon fulfills the sadness of
the night that I spend alone,
because she's gone
for good you know.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
If the clouds went away,
far away from me,
they would continue
to rain on my parade.

Nobody should march to
the beat of someone else's drum;
I will always be a
disappointment to somebody.

They come they go-
the compliments and sacrifice.
How inconsistent
they always are.

How can I firmly
establish my identity,
when my identity
is what they disapprove of?
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
I hope there is a light beyond the darkness
that suffocates a confidence I used to believe in.
A hopeful feeling of salvation that used to be...
whole .
She burns through my vacant heart,
a pinhole charm, causing harm
upon my constant forgiveness.
I ignore I wait I beg I stay;
I fight with passion and bathe in my own pain.
I drown in my forgiveness
contemplate my regrets.
I am forced to forget her words
I have forgiven once before.
But I cannot ignore
my swollen wound is infected
burning with ignorance;
what appreciation?!
there is no turning back
now there is no sign of light,
I am not sure if I can forgive-
in the name of passion, I lose the fight,
laying dead in the choke of night.
© Christopher Rossi, December 27, 2010
I really care about you.
I appreciate everything
you have done for me.
I cannot wait to see you,
for these days are drifting slowly
through a blinding haze.
I do not know where I am going
and I cannot wait
to hold you in my arms as we lead each other,
and I will not be alone.
So I hope to God you never leave;
you are every stitch upon my sleeve
that securely guards my skin.
Every time you come home,
I am reborn, I chant, yes I can.
I am vulnerable
weak at the knees,
though you make me
a stronger man
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Down by highway twonintyfive
a racoon lay breathless on the canyon side
survived probably by a family of four
or three who knows,
sticks and stones
life as it goes.

Down by the river Providence bound
a drunken man falls down
from the bridge to the ground
homicide suicide noone will know,
sticks an stones
life as it goes.

Cranston town a white pickup
two fat men come to steal your stuff
and break into your private home
thinking they're the underpants knomes!
Days are short that's all I know,
sticks and stones
life as it goes.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
I don't know much of anything

You tell me all the time

Ciggarette burned out

Tea has lost its prime

The apple has run dry;
Fallen too far from the tree

Away from its comfort zone

*Far away from me.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
There's a truth behind the passion
that forever is unspoken.
This love is a token that we both realize
in our silent everlasting gaze,
we yearned for each other's heart
in a loving graceful chase.
Nervous and concerened; hesitant to turn
back and face me with a choice,
on whether or not you'd share a love with this honest little boy.  
And you chose,
as I chose you.
And I love you for that.
Love me do.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
A bond held so true
like the binding of a book
clenched tight across the
neverending pages of
love lust lies and truth.
Although most  pages 
passionately clean,
there always has to be a slate or two...
with at least one coffee stain. 
The binding aged with creases 
broken beyond repair,
the bond remains strong,
the story is still there.
A bond held so true,
like a fiction held by glue-
forever us, our binding trust,
forever me and you.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Wind brings cold sorrow
upon the harsh cheeks of peace.
Like sandpaper forced to strip
the wood from it's originality.

Wind splintered;
scarred by disease.
Freedom of the world permits-
experiences we forget to seek.

I have the power while
trapped behind these walls,
to bring the wind down-
to sandpaper these memories away after all...

Nature give me strength,
as I sink in your terrain,
in order for me to live my life
within a world where evil reigns.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
You are a humble gust of wind,
your kiss dances on my chin,
a tango, certain of a flow-
step one
I love you.
What else is there to say-
for last night, my mind had gone astray
and I abused your gentle gust,
I disturbed your peace in us.
I do not regret my mistake,
though you did not deserve the tongue I gave.
I know you forgave
and would never stop loving me.
Within our book, a coffee stain-
I am sorry for the mess I made.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
She is like a dandelion on the edge of a cliff
Next to the sea.
The wind-encouraged rapture brings her to her knees as she’s taken
From the rocks into the deadly blue sea.
(She is stronger than she thinks,
I know, that’s why she left me.)

Before the endpoint, the gusting breeze
Meets its end,
So the dandelion plummets into the sandy beach instead.
(No matter what brings her down, she shall always stand up.
It’s the way she is; the dandelion is tough.)

So comfortable now, her stem is stuck
In this thick warm surface,
The tide seems to be interested in this dandelion’s purpose.
(I tried to **** her into me with my love.
She didn’t give me a chance because
I wasn’t enough.)

The tide erupts upon the scene within the lively flower’s green,
And yanks it from the sand to bring her colors to the sea.
(He stole her from me,
she accepted his hand
There was no chance for me)
To the ocean, the flower seemed different from the others;
The dandelion seemed to be tougher.
She has always been strong, my little dandelion,
Even from day one,
(But like I said, I wasn’t good enough)
Nothing could destroy her pride, nothing could be done.
(She told me nothing of her
feelings and left my concerns in the dark)
She brought her roots down within the oceans depths,
And ****** the sea dry until there was nothing left.
And then came the rain.
(She left the door open on the way out,
I was so shattered,
I couldn’t even cry.)
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
silhouettes above my head
hold me down like  paperweight,
the earth crumbles beneath me
and separates into quaking plates;
a toxic air instigates choking breaths
along my gasping throat that strains,
I am graveled as I contemplate
what my path is when I graduate.
I am becoming a dangerous man...
I cannot breathe your light,
I do not know where I stand.
It is not like I needed to ask permission
to live or believe in your religion;
the one I was raised with.

I betrayed myself with a weary prayer.
I yearned for remission.
I was haunted by a guilty conscience, filled with monsters;
was not ever warned that it was all just nonsense!

Lord I am confident.
I cannot include you with the decisions I make,
By myself I will learn from my own mistakes.
No longer can I pray that my wishes come true,
I believe in myself more than I believe in you.
© Christopher Rossi, April 20, 2011
In my voice,
a conviction stability,
a dedication,
a sacrifice unrequited,
an eternal reach for decency.

In my heart,
a pressure uniformed,
a blood flow,
a purity,
a mortal love storm.

In my eyes,
a mirror pristine,
a secret,
a truth,
a promise of my loyalty.

In my soul,
a romantic amour,
a lover,
a flame,
my sensual paramour.
© Christopher Rossi. 2010
Feeling the pain
of tectonic plates
shifting athwart my heart, I say
unbearable, but she will see-
subduction will not be the death of me.

Buried beneath,
what she betrayed,
this heart cannot go on this way.
The deep sea trenches in my brain
distort and break my peaceful face.

The shock within,
your evil sin,
fractured to the mantle, this
conduction brings a lava flow
I know my heart can love again.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
I may seem 
I feel un(sure)
But not comotose
Not *******...
I think too much 
I'm (scar)ed
A compulsive
I'm sorry
What else can I say?
No matter how I may become,
(you)r judgement (will) never c(hang)e
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
The freedom stored in the metal of a syringe
Brings fire to the hollow point that breaks the skin.
Secular glory in the pipe of faith
Supplies the habitual drag that you would take.
The endless hallucination is real; it seems-
As you wake up in the chair, realizing the dream.
A happy-gas mask was placed on your nose.
The uncomfortable state the dentist chair sustains
Gives birth to the pain.
A tooth is pulled without Novocain-
Doesn’t this resemble the average life we live?
Because you dream of the syringe that should break your skin.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Her intellect driven,
melted chocolate drowning tongue.
Succulent splendor 
too enjoyable to swallow.
Drooping sliding angel-gaze 
mesmerizing wafer, 
compacted sugar drug
hypnotizing love chase.
Daily Addiction, dissolving 
companion of desire.
Not for hire 
nor for sale,
our lust we will conspire.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
I look outside and wonder
when will time fly faster,
(only when I want it to, of course)
so I can be released from this cage
and roam free across the plain of grass
that gives me surface from the gravity
that  in and of itself keeps me grounded
because without it I would be lost
and floating without direction;
out of this world and into a place
that welcomes my existence
with dark open arms
but terminates my life
and suffocates my breathing calm
because oxygen is absent
and breathing is a healthy habit,
so I must relax and take a breath
to get through this day of madness.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Get in touch with the other side of yourself you fail to seek.
Your stubborness; the inconvenience it never fails to bring on me.
"She's dead to me, She's dead to me, She's dead to me," I preach,
for there is nothing left of me, I'm drowning in my sleep.
Please let me breathe.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Barbed wire crime
Tongue tied mind
Dignity is diminished
The future executed
The storm floods the horizon
With great exuberance
She is an ocean of time 
A fatal collapse a disastrous crash, 
she takes the torch
Pure atmospheric voltage strikes
with cataclysmic force
A surface permanently damp, she is angry
She rises above and drowns the city
Intently the people scream 
Flooding throughout the streets
The wrath persists; 
a queen of storm prolongs peace, 
and brings the world to its knees
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
a dull pencil
lay to the left of me
and the glass of water is dry,
to the point
the atmosphere hath licked
the contents away with spiteful pride.
a message blinks intermittent
as my file lay awake
with blood-shot eyes and frustration,
this job I cannot take.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
hair laced with condensation,
beading moisture streams with fluid
motion down my forehead
as I sweat the day away
amongst the land of incompetence

"can i help you?"
"can i help you?... can i help your lazy ***?!"

feet will not relax,
a constant swaying motion
a blood flow clots within my toes
and suffocates my freedom
of relaxing or letting go

if that ***** scolds me one more time…!

That empty water glass,
It sweats as well
forming a permanent liquid stain
atop the desk a ring of Hell

a ring of Hell for sure-
*room 154
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
With nothing left I sit my *** alone in a chair.
The table stands naked-  ashamed in the room, while I pour myself a glass.
A dull light shines upon the wooden fixture.
All the lonliness in the world stirred into the mixture.
There, a glass of satisfying
sedation I cannot seem to hold.
The ground cracks,
I can feel the separation.
My brain aches,
there's no mistake of despiration.
The bottle pours,
a thirsty cause,
JD please give me salvation.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Find a heartbeat
find a match
seek a bright day
in the grass
she's waiting here,
waiting for you,
how else did my own dream come true?

Glistening fluttering
eyes so brown.            
the freckles upon
her cheek drip down
among her pristine porcelain skin-
a delicate sprinkle of chocolate chips.

Her tender touch
her delicate kiss,
I'm forced to lick
those freckle chips.
Her **** slender shape of splendor,
i swear I'll feel this love forever.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
That song is on the radio for the third time this week
her heels are propped on the dashboard of my roaming SUV
what a state of relaxation as the wind blows 'cross my arm
that hangs out of my window as I drive along the shore
Daffodil and daisies pink and yellow white supreme
fall within the vegetation spread around this blissful dream
I hope I never wake up I close my eyes clenched force
her pucker peach  lips contact mine without remorse
Coarse strip of sand brushed gently into the sea
Beckons my lover and I to trail along the path of beauty
Hands held tightly gripping hearts with beating streams
of blood travel slowly down the beach 
Our serenade of love sung calmingly with every step 
as the sun sets in the west and the sea engulfs the rest
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Sitting at this leather couch
spilling out my mind
as it drips upon the floor 
from every minute of my time wasted.
I'm wondering what you're thinking;
if it's me that's been crazy
for commiting this so-called crime
I'm jaded.
You're judging me pretending to respect me.
A folder thick with penmanship
You diagnose my intelligence
A steady flow of consciousness,
"I was sick of her *******!
I was sick of the relationship!"
It's just a subtle mood swing
And that **** was so controlling
I wanted out.
So you jot your ******* notes
And cross your sloppy T's,
But you won't get the best of me
You're pills are not my remedy.
I stand by my insanity
You can claim I'm unstable
You can claim I'm in denial,
As I choose to ******* leave,
Make sure you make note in your file!
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Next page