Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014 · 367
44th ave
KeeLe Grace Jun 2014
My poetry is nothing but half-sense
Incaffeinated run off sentences
The result of a rushing mind,
Drained from windful mornings in the surf,
The tide beating against my board and my body,
By the time you walk out the ocean
You're exhausted,
And your brain is too fried to think about work the next morning,
Or the guy who keeps leading you on,
Or going out to a party later that night,
It's all just pits and potholes,
Annoying little bumps in the road
As I drive home in my 4runner that's as old as me,
I rather stick with the board on the top of my tanning lotion combined with worn down leather car,
I rather feel the rythmous beat of the waves against my skin
Than a bunch of sweaty bodies who reak of alcohol,
So I'll stick with my run off sentences, my incaffeinated mind, and my board under me.
KeeLe Grace Jun 2014
You're wasting your breath
Just standing there finding another reason to ***** at me-
After inferring a ***** onto me, when I said I wasn't feeling up to go out,
You nag on my driving,
When I'm the one driving you around,
So find another reason to ***** at me-
If nagging me about not putting the toliet paper roll on the hook helps you sleep better,
Okay.
But let's remember whose going.
Jun 2014 · 297
Cold Hands
KeeLe Grace Jun 2014
When I die fill my coffin with flowers
And when my feed are cold hold them even if you hate feet
I hate the thought that your lips were on someone else's skin
And I hate the thought that I didn't get to you soon enough
I was always the jar that was ******* on too tight
Couldn't get me open
Not like I'm too good for everyone
But because I was like the first dollar bill I ever got
That I didn't spend for years because it would take away
Maybe i just babble
My words make more since when caffeine is rushing through my body
If it was up to me I'd fold the states as if they were sheets and bring you closer to me
I've met a ton of lovely poets
A ton of beautiful dancers
Who dance as if their bodies are translating Shakespeare when their minds aren't completely there
If my blood could cure cancer then I'd donate daily and in as many quantities as possible

— The End —