Why do you take the great ones?
You come with your death notes
And without any prior warning
You leave scores of people crying
Why leave the ones that are dumb
Why can't we have a referendum?
I don't think it's fair to remain stoic
Maybe you will see truth ,the logic
And the reason to reconsider things.
Nobody likes what your visitation brings
Stop taking the people we love most.
Take a break from job and read this post
Tell me afterward if I'm right or wrong
We are tired swaying to your funeral song.
Today you took the great Kofi Annan
Almost on the same date you took my Nana.
Day before yesterday you took Aretha
Like you took my dearest Aunt Martha.

©IvanBrooksPoetry

Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin

All this
Talk
Talk
Talk

No one is any better

No one ever changes

I'm hoping for a better life
I hope to not follow their footsteps

Talk
Talk
More talk

I'm so tired
My ears might explode

I'm not sure how much I can take
before I let it all out

You're my joy,
And my grief,
My peaceful rest,
And lack of sleep,
My only truth,
My endless fraud,
You're my heathen,
And my God,
My brightest future,
And dark past,
You're my first love,
And my last,
Source of all sickness,
And good health,
A stranger and,
My deepest self,
My rising sun,
And fallen moon,
You're the dreadful silence,
And my favorite tune,
You are my numbness,
And my pain,
My peace of mind,
And thoughts unchained,
My heart of gold,
Split in two,
Good or bad,
I dream of you.

I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.