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  Apr 2016 Nigel Finn
Brent Kincaid
Wrap up all your games
And take them all away.
They might be fun for you
But I don’t want to play.

Sometimes what we think is luck
It isn’t that at all
It’s a series of bad decisions
That lead us to a fall.
You never seem to grow
Out of this kind of crap.
And smiling while you cheat
Is another kind of trap.

I don’t want to play
Take yourself away
Don’t come back here
Any other day.

You seem to believe
That finding the right words
Means your lies disappear
Like they were never heard.
You never get embarrassed
At the ugly things you do.
But it turns our stomachs
And embarrasses us too.

Wrap up all your games
And take them all away.
They might be fun for you
But I don’t want to play.

It’s almost like a game
You used to play as a kid
Where all of us were meant
To ignore the things you did.
This is not a playground
And we are not in school.
Once it might have been cute
But now you’re just a fool.

I don’t want to play
No matter what you say,
Today or any day.
Find somebody less aware.
I don’t want to play.
Nigel Finn Apr 2016
There's nothing quite like
Being appreciated
For something that you've done,
When your own words strike
You as overrated,
Childlike and dumb.
Thanks to everyone who reads, likes and shares my poetry :-)
  Apr 2016 Nigel Finn
mikecccc
I hope everyone
Has such a place
Or thing
Something
To defend against
The madness
That would cut through
The strings
That keep you
In one piece.
Nigel Finn Apr 2016
This is how you write a poem;
First; forget everything
You ever learnt about poems,

                                Such knowledge should be reserved
                                For the minds of critics, and
                                Professors in dusty halls

                                                          ­­           Of universities, where
                                                           ­          They are dissected and re-
                                                             ­        Constructed against their will.

Second; embroil yourself in
Love; it is the only thing
That poetry is born from.

                            Even the saddest songs, and
                            Most bitter lines, are fueled
                            By what we once loved. Loss is

                                                            J­­ust a love that has been lost
                                                            ­­And anger; a love scorned. All
                                                            y­­our words will be born this way.

Thirdly; find a quiet spot;
It doesn't matter much where
As long as it brings comfort,

                             Be it an old desk in a
                             Darkened room, or a field of
                             tall Sunflowers or bluebells,

                                                     ­ ­       Or the last place you saw a
                                                             Loved one, before fate swept them
                                                            ­­ Away to distant valleys.

Next you must make a promise to
Yourself to be brutally
Honest. Only the truth must

                              Be written here. There is no
                              Room for flowery words that
                              Must be thought over to much.

                                                          ­­   If it is true it will be
                                                             Beautiful, and your pen strokes
                                                         ­    Will guide you towards greatness.

Finally, you must hold your
Writing implement of choice
As if it were the most loved

                                 Of possesions, or mighty
                                 Of weapons, or a  child's hand.
                                 I cannot tell you which

                                                          ­­ But you will undoubtedly
                                                     ­      Know which when the time comes. It
                                                           Will strike you as obvious.

Upon following these steps
You will have become a
poet. From now on there

                                Is no turning back. It will
                                Consume you, and thoughts will take
                                You by surprise in lover's

                                                        ­­  Embraces, in sudden deaths,
                                                         ­ Bird songs, and the words of of those
                                                          Y­­ou once thought to be strangers.

Each word will be a gift to
The world, whilst remaining un-
doubtedly yours to own.

                                        Use your power wisely.
                                        Remember; without love
                                        Your poems will start to

                                                             ­        Fall into disrepair
                                                       ­              And, without them you will
                                                            ­­         Lose your capacity to care.

I wish you well.
                                    I wish you poetry.
                                                         ­      ­           I wish you love.
I'm planning on giving this one a rewrite, but I rarely get around to doing such things. I'm posting it mostly as a reminder to myself that I set out to do something. There's a good chance it will remain unfinished though.
  Apr 2016 Nigel Finn
Willow-Anne
They say that you've gone crazy
And that your mind is in the slum
When you repeat your actions
But you expect a new outcome

I never thought I was insane
Until the day that we first met
You fought me on every little thing
To the point where I got upset

I told you to leave me alone
But you fought me on that too
You said you were only joking around
And that you understood my view

I forgave but didn't forget
Until the next time it came up
We were at each other's throats again
And I wanted to just break up

"But love doesn't quit" you said to me
"You can't just walk away"
Suddenly I felt it was all my fault
And by your side I decided to stay

The fights grew closer and closer
And slowly got more intense
It got so bad that out in public
Strangers came to my defense

They say that you've gone crazy
And that your mind is in the slum
When you repeat your actions
But you expect a new outcome

They say that I've gone crazy
And I guess what they say is true
'Cuz no one seems to understand
Why I keep forgiving you
Hey there everyone, because of the subject of this poem I just wanna take a couple minutes to address abusive relationships and say it is okay to end a relationship that has become toxic and that you do not need to feel guilty about it. Never let the other person guilt trip you into staying with them if you don't feel safe/loved/etc. It is important to take your own needs and health into account. If your significant other is manipulating you/abusing you physically or mentally, or making you feel unsafe then please get out of the relationship and seek help if you need it. You do not deserve that, and I promise you the person is not worth the pain they are putting you through. It may seem hard, but I promise there is a world full of opportunities and people who want the best for you. Things get easier when you are out of toxic, abusive relationships.
Stay healthy and stay safe <3
  Apr 2016 Nigel Finn
Rhiannon
She doesn't read my poetry,
And throws away my stuff.
She cannot stand my music,
I think I breathe too much.

The bile I stutter from my tongue,
Is nothing compared to hers.
She's a wasp and I am stung,
But she's only using her words.

The selfishness she commandeers,
It does nothing but hurt me so.
As she cuts her skin destroying herself,
She only let's me know.
  Apr 2016 Nigel Finn
Xiao - SparKticas
When silence screams, it deafens all.
For those who listen close shall find,
Mistress darkness beckons to its call,
Seeking to shake up your state of mind.

In darkness lies monsters few dare see,
They encroach from the shadows,
Much taller, much wider than you or me,
Twisted creatures unfold and transpose,

In life there is no greater fear,
To be alone in a cold world,
Means to lose all that you hold dear,
To the point you're nothing but furled.

Mistress darkness beckons her call,
Awaiting her next victim whomever shall *fall.
*Uhh.... Sorry? Yes another english sonnet. Um... Dark much?
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