Block Me (I Don't Think That you Get How All That Made me Feel About Myself)

We met online
We joked about all the crazy people
The ones you block
Like the girl who wanted to wear my wedding ring
And got her son to give me a ring
Before I'd even met her
Like the girl who turned up in the night on my block
Like the guys who send you all the pictures of their ****

But they're crazy people.
Not like us
We aren't the type you block

We met
We kissed
We did more than kiss
I got to know you
I won't block you
If you won't block me

We both had big issues going on
You said it was hard
But you liked me
I said I understood
I was going through the same
"Yeah, but not like me,
My ex just blocked me out"
"I understand, I've been hurt too
She was a bit like you
But she blocked me out
But I'll support you
Just don't block me too"

I said I was fragile.
I said I'd been hurt - I'd been round the block
I said I needed people to show me understanding, even as a friend.
To show me they cared even when I fall apart.
I said it would happen, right from the start.

I was there for you
I know I was
Not like just a normal friend
I gave you my time
I gave you advice
I gave you my thoughts
I tried to give you my dreams - but I blocked them out instead

I want to let go.
I just can't.
But I don't want you to block me.
I don't want to be the crazy person.
Just don't block me.

I say "I'm hurting"
You hear "you hurt me"
I say "you don't get it"
You hear "you don't care"
I say "I want you to show me you care"
You hear "I need you to love me"
I say "it hurts being so close but not knowing how you feel"
You hear "I don't care what's going on in your life, you should want me anyway"
I say "I need to step away, you should block me"
I mean "I need you to tell me you care about me. I feel like I'm not good enough. I feel like I'm trapped in a revolving door, going round and round. I can't move forward because I care about you so much. I can't pull away because I'll miss you so much.
I can't suggest more because you'll pull away.
I can't suggest friends - I'm unhappy that way.
The only way out is to not see you
or to see you and hurt.
But I don't want you to love me.
I just want to know that you care.
That I matter.
That you're there.
When I need you.
And you aren't doing that.
And I'm hurting so much.
I want to handle it.
But I can't.
I don't want to make you hurt.
Only I need to hurt.
So block me."

I had two lizards.
Their names were E's and Whizz after the Pulp song, which was apparently about drugs.
Lizards aren't like drugs.
They're just different.
You can't take a lizard to get high.
You could try it with the right kind of frog but licking a lizard just makes you look weird.
Plus if you tried to swallow one, it would get stuck in your throat.
Lizards don't like that.
Plus you'd get done for animal cruelty.
It's ok though, you'd have the excuse that you were smacked off your t**s on Lizard.
I looked after them,
But they kind of melted.
This was real,
Not drugs.
I hadn't tried drugs.
I hadn't licked a lizard.
Lizards aren't like drugs anyway,
but we've already covered that,
it's a bad analogy.
It was horrid watching them,
Think I over heated the tank.
I think it's kind of an analogy for life.
You can spend your life buying all the right food
Keeping the temperature just right.
But never enjoy your lizard  
Too busy thinking about food and heat.
Or you can just get on with things.
Enjoy your lizards,
crank up the heat  
see what happens.
I think life's better like that.
Not for lizards though.
Mine melted.
You've got to keep their temperature right.
It was a bad analogy.  

I'm still single if anyone's interested?

I worked in Bradford
I drove back home along Bradfords crazy roads among the crazy drivers
Each day
At the same time
In the same place
I saw this man
No idea of his name
Or his story
But each day he ran
Holding two carrier bags
Full of carrier bags
Down the central reservation of the ring road
And as I drove home
Tired and weary from my days work
I would think to myself
Who covers for this guy when he's off sick?
He's running with more purpose than I do when I'm going to work
But he's here every day
Punctual
Is there a supply agency for running with bags?
I think it's a vocation.
Then I drove into the car in front of me

I'm writing a poem that rhymes
This is it - rhyming this time
This is me writing a poem
About writing this poem
I'm very aware that you know em
My words as I'm writing this poem
I just tap the button
A repetitive glutton
B-U-T-T-O-N-S
Yes!
I did it again
But this time with capital and hyph-en
When I write my poem I think
This is really is starting to stink
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid
Conversations that never ends
The ones that you have with your friends
where you say "I
Know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Infinitely repeating but with errors
Image
Faded image
More faded image
Even more faded image
Even more fadeder image
I'll have to stop there I think
This is really is starting to stink
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid
Conversations that never ends
The ones that you have with your friends
where you say "I
Know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Infinitely repeating but with errors
Image
Faded image
More faded image
Even more faded image
Even more fadeder image
I'll have to stop there I think
This is really is starting to stink
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid
Conversations that never ends
The ones that you have with your friends
where you say "I
Know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Can you trap a witch between two mirrors?
Ive just remembered I'm writing a poem
What am I going to show 'em?
I'll reread it
(Returns to start) - it's ****!
I've just rewritten the same poem!
But I've shoved in words lamely to make it Rhyme
Cringe
I'll try again without rhyming

I'm writing a poem...

I'm writing a poem
This is it
This is me writing a poem
About writing this poem
I'm very aware right now that I am writing this poem
I just tap the buttons
B-U-T-T-O-N-S
I did it again
But this time with capitals and hyphens
When I write my poem I think
This is really silly
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid conversations that never ends
Like the ones where you say "I know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Infinitely repeating
Image
Faded image
More faded image
Even more faded image
Even more fadeder image
This is really silly
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid conversations that never ends
Like the ones where you say "I know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Infinitely repeating
Image
Faded image
More faded image
Even more faded image
Even more fadeder image
This is really silly
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid conversations that never ends
Like the ones where you say "I know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Can you trap a witch between two mirrors?
Ive just remembered I'm writing a poem
What am I writing?
I'll read it
(Returns to start)
Oh, that was interesting
I've written a poem
Next time
I'll make it rhyme

Recital 2

Hello, I'm Matt. I thought I'd read some poems and stuff then get off the stage.

Short poems about ordinary things 1

There was a scrunched up bit of paper
It sat in the corner of a room
It was Tuesday

Don't expect them to get better. My next is about my first recital which was a few weeks ago and didn't entirely go to plan.

A poem about social discomfort in my first poetry recital

I... Um
I am...
Ahem,
(Mumbles) -Uncomfortable
Matt... I am Matt

So, I'm stood in front of you
And you're looking at me
And I'm talking to you
And you're listening to me
And your eyes are on me
And your minds are on me
Looking at me and listening to me and eyes on me and minds on me
And I'm thinking about what you think about me
And now I feel awkward
So I'm not coming forward
My movements seem backward
So, now you feel awkward
About drawing toward
Because I'm afraid I won't get the reward
Of your praise

So you're going to be polite!!!
Don't be polite!
I hate when you're polite, because I won't believe it!
It's not real praise so it doesn't MEAN ****
It's not much better than telling me I'm ****
But don't tell me I'm ****!
Please!! I can't take it!

So, now you're just getting bored and frustrated
Listening to me talking about feelings I've debated

I want to get off
I want to get out
I also want you to clap
And I want you to shout

So I'm tense and I'm nervous and we're all feeling scared
About if this rhymes good enough to convince me you cared

And then I fell over

I genuinely did, off this tiny stupid pallet stage into a banner. I looked proper cool.

Short poems about ordinary things 2

With a start, he woke
His vision still blurred from his nights sleep
The dawn had broke
At the end of his bed was a figure
As black as coke
Murmuring the words he dreaded
"Wake up, it's time for work!"

I'm an artist/teacher really and I randomly wrote the title of this poem in a sketchbook about 7 years ago. I wrote the poem last week. Typical creative procrastination

Flowers on a lamppost
Dying in the sun

A seed
A son
He grows
He flowers
He blossoms
He bears his fruit

"See ya mum, dad! I'm off out for a drive!"
"No drinking flower!"
"Nah, just fruit juice!"

The fruit has fallen
It has ripened
It has over ripened
It has brewed and stewed as it matured
His fruit is strong
It's confidence intoxicating

"Last one mate!"
"Sneaky 3 and drive"
"Get em in then!"

More fruit

The tree, beautiful, flowers everywhere
Bountiful fruit
But the fruit is un ripened not ready to fall
Don't shake the tree

Crash
The tree shakes
The fruit falls
The petals fall from the flower

No more fruit now, it is rotting
Just flowers on a lamp post dying in the sun
Bearing a note saying
"We will always love you flower,
Sleep well,
Mum and Dad"

Yeah, I haven't really got a funny joke about that one. This links going to be a bit of a car crash really.

Short poems about ordinary things 3

He enters the house
She watches as he walks past without speaking
Just like every day
He does not offer her a cup of tea
He does not offer to cook for her
He doesn't even look her in the eye
She looks down at her food
A meal for one
Again
She is alone
So she tucks the food into her pouch and goes for a spin in the hamster wheel... Wheeeeee!!!

This next one was essentially me having a little whinge to myself about getting dumped.

All the damaged people

All the damaged people,
Vultures of the past still swooping high above
They look out over the future
But with a mind on the past
As they cross the landscape they notice shapes in the clouds and in the dunes
Many of them are beautiful
But a cloud is a cloud
And a dune is a dune
And there are always memories in those shapes of the ones in their past
So they stop
Unable to go back through the long trudge that got them here
Unable to move forward in case these dunes and clouds are the same
They test a few steps
Where the land seems different
But it's too different and they don't feel comfortable
They test ones that are familiar, a few steps
But even though this is comfortable, they are reminded of their past trials
"I can't do that again"
They stop
"I'll wait here, until the landscape changes"
The vultures continue swooping above

This next poem is ace. It's easily the best poem ever written.

Short poem about ordinary things 3

The sense of loss
Remorse
He's dead
The end of a long cold winter
His batteries are finally flat
I'll have to call the RAC

I'm a teacher and I started a new job this week after a few weeks of holidays and there were no kids in and I got bored of waiting for Dave, so I wrote this.

Back to work

I'm here
But I'm not here
I'm half lost in limbo
Somewhere between now and the past and the future
But off to the left a bit
And slightly south
Behind that bush
Wearing a banana-man costume

Why am I there?
Well, why be anywhere in particular?
Especially now
With no kids in
Boredom
And time
To dream
But nothing to do
Except tap tap tap on my phone

Trying to get back into it
Motivated
Energised
With no stimulus
So my mind flit flit flits
Here and there
Hither and thither
A failed date.
Jumping in a bush at college,
Drunk
How long will I work here?
Tony dressed as a zombie cow
Did that kid trace that or paint it free hand?
What will I teach them?
When's Dave getting here? It's been more than 10 mins
The hum of the computer
Girls, girls, girls... ***
Cuddles and company
Love?

How long?

I hope that tomorrow I can concentrate better than this.

Short poem about ordinary things 4

Hiding in a corner of a darkened room
Eyes covered hoping he can't see me
I hear the footsteps growing closer
A shudder down my spine
Is this excitement or fear?
Then I hear my fathers voice outside
"Coming, ready or not!"

A poem about killing time

This is a poem about killing time
I'm thinking of ways of making it...
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Rhyme

This is a poem about killing time
I'm thinking of ways of making it...

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Rhyme