To keep a poet happy
First off... naturally...
You must give him time
Time to write
Time to rhyme
And three square stanzas
Every day
Keeping his writer's block
At bay...

His pen and paper
Must be fixed
Or a computer
In the mix
A thesaurus
A rhyming dictionary
Or perhaps the classic writing
Of a visionary...

Don't forget the light
To see his words
You also have to listen
He wants to be heard!
Some structure and a clock
To see the time
Avoid writer's block
And help him rhyme...

Here is the recipe
For his feeding
If he has the block
He needs to be eating!
A pinch of metaphor
A splash of color
An image or two
Then add another!

But dissing folks
Has NO allure...

Nobody wants to eat

MANURE !!!


The Girl Who Loved.You
SoulSurvivor
(C) October 10, 2014

The only time i like you sleeping is when you're by my side
Arms draped over me and breath steady and low
Keeping time with my own
Peaceful slumber in synchronized exhales and unified heartbeats.

Hahahaha what a shame
The human race is so pathetic
Jumping on mere a child
So many of you and only one of him
What a disgrace
You dare call yourself adults
Letting this "CHILD" rally you up
Like seriously do you not have lives
Wasting your time trying to win a war that cannot be won  
Because if you do manage to "WIN"
What do you gain
"Oh,I made this kid shut up"
Newsflash LOSER you're nothing but a bully
A grown *** bully
One who apparently does not have a life
Because he/she is wasting his/her time trying to fight a child
So do yourself a favor and back the hell up
And while you're at it grow a pair
Cause apparently you don't have any if you're jumping on a kid

Don't wake me
please
I want my own world
not your reality
Call me an escapist
Call me a coward
but quite frankly I'm sick of earth
like atlas when he held the burden of the sky
I can't stop myself from wondering why
the world is so cold
to the young and to the old
the young have to grow up so much faster
to survive and even then they won't have a chance to really thrive
And the old are out in the bitter cold be it from past injustices karma or just having nowhere to go

So when the lights have gone off
and the world has shut down
I hope a crying falcon can whisper my words
my dreams, on its crying breath
that I lived with honor and left my heart inside my work
And let my words and thoughts find a home with someone alone that reads and my ink stains give them what they need

Who am I to judge men with broken souls
To tell them that the dagger that currently pierces their heart hurts or not
What right do I have to tell them to get over it
As if I have felt the pain that courses through their veins
Over the generation humankind has been known to reject science they have yet to understand
And as a man I can vouch for that
We as men have been marked as emotionless beings
But can you really blame us for it
Growing up we were fed with the knowledge of our past lives
That we had to remain strong when times got tough
Simply because of the fact that we are men
When they cry our shoulders are the ones they lean upon
When they are scared we are the ones they look to for protection
And we can't let them down
What would we look like if we ran cowardly in the mist of the darkness
Seeing their faces slowly being drenched in tears as we turned the other way
So as men we reject the feeling of pain to be there for those who need our help
But because of this we cry silently into the air wishing we had the option to run
That we had the option to hide behind someone and feel safe
But that's not the case
We stand there starring danger in the eyes only thinking about those behind us
So when I see a man with a broken soul I can't blame him
Though I probably haven't felt his pain, I felt pain similar too it
For the dagger it leaves lodged into your chest
You tell us if it hurts or not

Swimming in a sea of darkness
Drowning without hope
Trying to touch the surface
Dying, cause I can't stay afloat

Smelling the molten fumes
Of life's red hot flame
Burning to my deepest core
Where no love can claim

Falling deeper into the sand
Can't dig out of the hard dirt
Finding rocks at every turn
Scraped and cut, always hurt

Breathing in life's deadly curse
Inhaling the putrid smell
Just a natural reflex
Exhaling as I fall to hell