Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
ashby-brownPoems
Kicking with the same sentence The reek but not the contents Each kick of the hour with The note that holds But does not hold with truth I am stuck on every part of you Sticking like paper would to glue If skies were to part with rain n' snow I would shiver n' whine with every blow But a whisper in the night tells myself To keep on fighting To get to know Just as the clause is to us And the wheels are to the bus Lost in the sane relentless Of men with sense and tents Money hoarding fire rockets Shouting for peace like cares With out sprockets A miss lined beehive Where the women dance with their Incredible behinds To see such mayhem where others only see A cause of peace Makes me believe that my sneeze Is coming from someone else's Knees Not here for where we are born We are sworn Labeled like the cattle Like the product Like the fish destine For our dish Meant for continuation Meant for elongation And I tell myself HOPE Is a four letter word A strong word A HOPEFUL WORD I tell myself many things And I swear to believe them But I lie to myself as often Watch my fingers bleed As I pick up The chipped pieces
0
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
Pieces in Chips
Kicking with the same sentence The reek but not the contents Each kick of the hour with The note that holds But does not hold with truth I am stuck on every part of you Sticking like paper would to glue If skies were to part with rain n' snow I would shiver n' whine with every blow But a whisper in the night tells myself To keep on fighting To get to know Just as the clause is to us And the wheels are to the bus Lost in the sane relentless Of men with sense and tents Money hoarding fire rockets Shouting for peace like cares With out sprockets A miss lined beehive Where the women dance with their Incredible behinds To see such mayhem where others only see A cause of peace Makes me believe that my sneeze Is coming from someone else's Knees Not here for where we are born We are sworn Labeled like the cattle Like the product Like the fish destine For our dish Meant for continuation Meant for elongation And I tell myself HOPE Is a four letter word A strong word A HOPEFUL WORD I tell myself many things And I swear to believe them But I lie to myself as often Watch my fingers bleed As I pick up The chipped pieces
Written by
ashby-brown
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem