Indeed we are seeds of woman,
           yet we think we are grow.

Yet we do not show the fruits
        of our labour,

only the
        immaturity of seeds.

We think where apples.

      But yet we are grains
                    that still need to mature.

To grow a crop worthy

of the seeds
that we where formed from.
Only a weak man would intrude
                    on virtues of another #.
For a strong man knows that within him
                 is the virtues of a woman's birth.  

And with out them, he would be nothing.
            Those that intrude on the innocence,  
         have a weakness not of man
but of value and are neither of morality or humanity.

But the sinking ventures of humanities folly.
                For all of creations bindings are
                                but a creation of before.

And even those that are  pure some are always
                              damaged to the point of sorrow.
Never guise all under one brush,  
   because each is a different ******.

And some are just not meant to be allowed
                                                   to paint a canvass.
          let alone a memory upon another's ever
                                                changing innocence.

We are each a picture
         and some where never meant
                                           to be painted
let alone ****** upon others design
When we venture on another,
we never see the clothing
       but the skin upon which we
                          where born upon..

For all truths are sewn upon us
                          on the birth of our innocence.

One truth is that beyond the first moments.

    We are the creation of two hearts
that conjoined to make a melody of life,
            and we where its symphony.

A musical of string and rhyme,

   Flowing with the future
                        of our parents twine.
Interconnected to make us who we are today
                                                    and tomorrow..

Where there memory of all tomorrows,
                collected upon our  memories
                                                  of todays.
She is the girl that speaks
             upon  no ventures.
She only gazes with the sorrows
                            that graze your heart..

Feeding her own discontent.
                     And when she seeds the shallow fields
of your mind.

Only her reflections grow
             showing you the seeds
of not your sorrow
but the flowers of jealousy
                           blooming deep within her.
If I could repeat a
it would be the victory sign
                              I gave you.

The sign of ******* used in
                           singular usage.
those of an educated and memorable
                                      use of wordage.

One meaning I'm free of the shackles,
                   and that I'm no longer
beneath you.

Instead it meant in an aspect of freedom,
         but then I got real turning it
                                                     on its head.

And to others that saw it meant what it said,


I'm no longer yours, I'm free of you...
                     and my life is mine  from this day...

Mine to live,
no longer shacked
                      by others
                      weak bonds that I'm  free of.
Cradle me in-between the
                         of your lies.

For when I breath a new...

I know that every word is spoken
               with fresh breath.

Not tainted by
                the past exhalations
of what where  
                      expelled from you..
That Singular Lego Piece,
When I was younger and
life was just walls...
That where just falling down
around me,
                 I found something.

A single piece of Lego.

       And on it scratched into
it where three words...

Always build higher.

Where my life had been
even at such a young age.
                            I thought
             the only thing walls were,
where ones that crumbled.

But after that moment,
when all I fell upon
                  where pebbles of lost moments.
                  That could have built
higher but crumbled, like so many.

That one brick,  built me higher
            than any singular instant.

And to this day,
                  I have never looked
at another lower,
                     or higher than myself.

For ever brick is built on the strength
            of another taking the weight
of the one below it.

And without that strength below,
           we couldn't build ourselves
                            to the height we are today.

Everyday I wear that brick around my neck.

Not to weigh me down, but to realise,
       that below every brick
       is another holding us up
                  with there strength, and without them
                                                    we would crumble.
I  made a newb  mistake on the first run, oh` well like the second rendition, if not your loss...
If time is consious
      Are we
but a fleeting

Yet to fade into obscurity.

Or are we a
Of repeated ideas,
That just need
         to be tweaked.
If a light is turned
on but  
         never shine,s
into the opposing room.

Was it ever switched
                        on at all.

Or was the conclusion
         That there
was no

Because if  the light didn't
    aluminate beyond
         its surroundings.

Was there ever a light
      In the first place.
The past is
               the future
Unwoven in concisnece.

For we are but a
           pebble in
A pond of ripples.

Though we do not
      make a splash.


we disturb

       The flow.
Time is a raindrop
      Falling separately
Never landing in the

Same location.

But puddling in an
         Singugular continuity.
Nov 25 · 155
My Little Fishes
Poetic T Nov 25
My little  fishes
  Will one day leave
There bowl.

And swim in
   The ocean of life.

Beware the sharks
            My little fishes.
Nov 25 · 91
Stone tears
Poetic T Nov 25
If stones where tears,
Then I would be a
     Tombstone of sorrows.
Gathering  beyond
             my standing
Nov 20 · 153
Never A Debt To Pay
Poetic T Nov 20
We should never
bribe death,
       for this is a futile gesture.

We should pay life
       its dues,
      and live every breath we paid for.
Poetic T Nov 12
When the red petals fell
        Every field
                  shall fall silent.

For in those meadows,
                the wisps of the past
stand over the fallen.

Head held down,
       on bended knee.
   A remembrance if yesterday.

Every eleventh hour
       does an eleventh
                           minute fall.

And we remember
that freedom is sometimes
             paid in innocent blood
Nov 11 · 102
When red petals fall
Poetic T Nov 11
We live in silence for two moments,
for those who fell silent long ago.

For there sacrifice is  every breath
Where now  gifted with today.

Every name is woven in the fabric
Of our lives, never to forget the past.

When red petals fell, and so many
Did, there was silence for moments.

The past is a tribute and a lesson of
what must be learnt and not repeated.
Nov 5 · 134
Never Bend A Knee
Poetic T Nov 5
The only time I went down
on a knee was to look up
                   and say baby be mine.
She said I do..

None of us should
           bend a knee
to another unless
that is the one.

All others can have
there inferiority complex!
Keep in the shelf marked
                I don't give two *****..

Never expect to lower than
        Stand tall,
        and see yourself at equal length.
Doesn't matter who you are,
   no other is better than you
                        or you than another.

The only time I went down
on a knee was to look up
                   and say baby be mine.
She said I do..

But ill never grovel
                   before another,
My knee was one time thing.
I'm no better than you,
    We'll all stand tall next to each other
Poetic T Nov 5
My mother she was one with palms pressed
                                                Asking for help..
Help to feed us,
Help to keep her afloat.

You listened, wait what was that?
                                     you didn't...
Na you played her, used her trust
in you like a torment, she looked to
the heavens and all you gave was ****..

Men were  less than what she saw,
but always too late.
            Married in your place
                                         of every prayer.
But you just kept knocking her down there.

Last time I went to church was
                    because there was free chocolate.
You see with me, my mother grasped  at
straws. She went from one form of you
to another like a ****** clinging to a new fix.

But you were just like before, same old ****,
                 different day...
I knew long before you weren't one to be trusted?
Why you ask? Because there where ones before you..
                      I read your book in the fantasy section.
This thing needed a
                           Parental Guidance Sticker.

Some contorted morals, thrown in with what
                  can be only described as a  WFT's.
I knew that those at these places of worship
                   peddling there own version of this ***..
Didn't believe there own words, so why the ****
would I be gullible enough to be a sheep in there world.

The last time I went to church,
                                         was for free chocolate.
                                    The last time she went was in a coffin..
Slam poetry
Poetic T Nov 5
Sleeping rough
like a leaf blowing
across the pavement.
          never knowing
where I'll settle
before the breeze
of others discontent,
    brushes me from
my resting place.

I wonder like a cloud,
never stopping
                  in one place.
I'll never rain down,
all that's kept inside.
I'll never have  
           a sliver lining.
Just one with hues
of regret, of better times.

You can hear
the rustling
plastic sheeting.
The breeze is light here,
We can stay
                for a little while.

Leaves fallen
             from the tree
will never be still.
Ever moving,
               Ever restless.
When will we again
see from a higher elevation
other than below there feet
crumpled up like a fallen leaves.
Nov 1 · 123
The Carcass Of Pollen
Poetic T Nov 1
Corrosive petals lingering on stems
                              of faltering breath.
For the air smells sweet,
underneath the carcass of pollen.

Three words held in masks
                        of suffocation.

Innocence stands there,
         would you like to smell
                              our flowers.

Hollow eyes, hiding smiles
            within breathless voids.
They pick them for the scent of death
is always sweetest before the demise.
Nov 1 · 520
Stolen Hearts
Poetic T Nov 1
Telling me to pick a card,
    always giving her mine.
                Stealing my heart.

I never was a full deck after that.
Nov 1 · 169
Wilted Symphony`s
Poetic T Nov 1
The eternal strings play
as crows feathers
                  fall like tears.

But alas,
               these will never dry
seeding the clouds with grey.

Every melody is a line of life,
now serenading stone words.

A sunset caressing
chiselled days, years,
                       then nothingness.

Upon a wooden box,
               a crow sings tears
that form on the strings of
      yesterdays now played.

          The future is barren of you.
Poetic T Nov 1
A penny on the floor,
          costing more than life.
          For those who pick up luck
have run out tonight.

A penny on the floor,
            where others shoes now
            collect before curious gazes.

                            its cold out tonight.

A penny on the floor,
            the last thing you see,
                     is it heads or tails.
       The breath of another falling.

Curiosity is never a gift when its obvious.
                For a penny is never fallen in jest.
                              every one cost something.

Tonight its your life,
Tonight its your life,
Tonight its your life.....
Poetic T Nov 1
Blended with the **** of obscurity,
              barbed voices silently whisper
behind hairs crawling slowly upwards.

Never realising that the contour of your
           silhouette wasn't yours after your
                        corner step, wavering slightly.

It now lays limp, discarded like soiled rags.
                  That which beckons beneath you,
            staring focused on your every breath.

And with but a fluttering of exhalation a light
                         stutters and you fall into a pool
                                           of hollow nothingness.

A stain outlines your last breath,
                    you where already drowning.
                   Not realising you where already dead.
Nov 1 · 446
Side Line Referee
Poetic T Nov 1
Friend zone hardships,
never seeing through the eyes
that gaze with admiration
that you where always there.

                But never in the place

A side line referee, holding hands
             but giving red cards to those
             who foul up her heart with tears.

Lovers will *** and go, but a friendship
                     of mutual feelings that's never going
                                                              to be  strained.

As this is one place they'll stay, for love is endless.
                              When the friendzone is sat upon,
                                           its just a different respect.

Never wavering over time,
                     you'll always have one another's back,  
                     no matter the others pain your always friends.
Poetic T Nov 1
We must be the Shepheard of our thoughts.

And the only sheep to follow us,
are our deliberations,
that we collect the wool
                  of contemplation from.

For no man should follow another,
          be less than what his worth is.

                           Only side by side are we all equal.
Oct 25 · 596
We Are More..
Poetic T Oct 25
We cry.
We gather a pool
              in our hands.

But then,

We look deeply,
and see the reflection  
           of our stronger self.
Oct 14 · 131
Last Breath..
Poetic T Oct 14
When all the trees are but
                  paper notes in a vault.

What will be the riches of man.

Where shall he beg for one more leaf.

Shall he look hollow when he cries
              gasping for breaths of regret..
Poetic T Oct 14
To lose a laugh
          when the
          world needed one..

Where a grin
             but now holds a frown.

But even when
           the eyes look down,
           a word can bring us back around.
Oct 6 · 160
Cheesy verses
Poetic T Oct 6
Your words are cheesy
        Like an unclean *******

Every syllable you tug on
        Is like cheese.

You need to clean up
            Your stiffness
And write cleanly...
Oct 5 · 245
Silhouette strokes
Poetic T Oct 5
Within every pen
Lies a formation
                Of emotion.

That differs with every
                 it silhouettes
On the page.
Sep 30 · 732
Every breath
Poetic T Sep 30
Every breath is a diamond.

     For without the gleam
of every one..
the beauty of life would be dull.
Sep 30 · 127
A single word can save
Poetic T Sep 30
A word can save
another day
           for someone to see the
brightest side of the darkness.

For within syllables
                      are meanings
that unconsciously re-ravel
              that last thread.

And they awake to another
not realising that single word
  yesterday brightened there day.
Sep 22 · 138
Bones Feed Roses 13w
Poetic T Sep 22
My hood was
            my graveyard...

They'll not remember me,
               as bones feed roses...
Poetic T Sep 22
I jested,
           then you showed
           me your point.

Bleeding sarcasm,
               I died with a smile
on your face.
Sep 22 · 147
Every Rose Has Thorns
Poetic T Sep 22
Eating every petal,
tasting falsehoods
               of what they meant.

Every thorn crushed in
our last meal,
           hoping shards
cut deeply on the misconstrued
                 hope you would ******* pain.
Poetic T Sep 22
Why did you let it carry on so long,
knowing it was the corrupted wrong
                                                     of love.
Not was meant to be shown the way
it collected on a pillow of white sorrows.

What should of happened!!!
      Grabbing that toy next to you,
jagged part lunged into  a jugular
  of his regret. No sorrow only his
flooding over me..  
                            and I smile its over.

But in reality I took the beating of his
                                 inconsistent rage....
If words were weapons I'd have given
                  him two hollow points to the chest.

But I was young, innocent for so long...
                  Trauma buried till tracks bled my pain.
            Misunderstood stones swallowed in a pool
                            that I wanted to drown silently in.

I awoke years later knowing I wasn't the
                            tool of his anger, just a vessel
                                                to put pain upon.
Sorrow made me stronger than even I knew.

More than yesterday, Im stronger not weaker
than when I was innocent. I hold no jest..
The past is a reflection and mine shines brighter.
Poetic T Sep 22
The Petals that had to grow
through the poverty of life's
                        oncrete hardship.

Never looking below the infertile
          words that never gave it the
          time to breath. To reach what
was before it, breaking before its hardships.

They thought we were weeds, cracking through
             afflictions that never showed our beauty.

Adolescent roots never showing the potential.
                  But as we grew, we flourished before you.
We showed our worth, blooming before the haters,
              shining beneath the blandness of yesterday.

But now where showing colours beneath us dull.
                        Were unlike the reality that was expected.
Showing that when there is weight upon us we
can still grow and show where more that what was below.
Sep 22 · 145
When Hooves Ride Silent
Poetic T Sep 22
Treading on the fallen echoes
                      of silence that no
                   longer tread on the
              ground, only imprints
             of what was yesterday.

There was a stead, rag and bones
                      showing its last gasp.
                         falling silent before
                         its unrested silence.
Now white tombs show its resting.

Nothing else matters,
                only the wind sings between
                its memory, chimes of agony
                through hollow moments now
                remember its cruel resting place.
Poetic T Sep 16
She said he was to down to earth,
that she could never see the stars
                        beneath his staring.

"Am I not grounded enough?
        do you wish to gaze deeper
              than even I can look into..

Would you want to reach the heavens,
to see how many glimmers float deep
       within every blinking of my sight.

"She pondered his question,

If you can make me see the universe
entwined within every look
                                        you give me.
                              I'll be yours forever.

So days past upon his gaze, not at her!
            but the fulfilment of her wishes.
And with that, he brought out his gesture
                                 of making her see stars.

"Strap this on yourself!

But is this not just a rocket?
        will I not leave your side.

Never would I let us part,
       you will only be above my gaze.
my eyes steering you, no longer grounded.

With a twinkle in his eye he gazed at her,
   "I see the stars gleaming in your eyes.
    "You are no longer grounded to.....

And without a word the rocket shot off.
        hearing her faint words.. I was wro…

With that a shower of sparks erupted,
         in the  heavens and for a second she saw stars..
But unfortunately ungrateful of what she had.

He never saw her again after that.
         But he was a man of his word.
Now grounded to terra-firma he gazes
                  towards the stars and smiles.
Some are not grounded enough to realise what they have, and this never ends well in the long run. Always count your stars as there not always going to be visible..
Sep 16 · 310
Satin Chains
Poetic T Sep 16
Imprisoned in
     satin seductions,
     like a jail cell of purity stained.

You were meant
          to be my saviour.

          But you sold me on like cattle..
Poetic T Sep 14
I'm a wondering soul,
      That has no footsteps
To call my own.  

All you step is on imprints
                           Of the past,
Showing  you the right steps to take...
Sep 9 · 139
Deaths Quotes #1
Poetic T Sep 9
I tasted your breath
                  like wine,
                  and when it soured.

                  I dropped the bottle...
Sep 9 · 200
Death Quotes #4
Poetic T Sep 9
Every clock stops,
         it just depends which chime.

Yours was twenty seconds ago..

This grandfather is never being wound again.
Sep 9 · 265
Death Quotes #3
Poetic T Sep 9
Life is just a grain falling
          to an inevitable conclusion.

That is, every tide comes in and
                                       drowns it.
Sep 9 · 146
Death Quotes #2
Poetic T Sep 9
I plucked your heart
               like a cherry.

crushing it till
            the pip
Poetic T Sep 9
Her legs weren't stairways
to heaven, for these ladders
       were anything but safe.

Pulled fibres collected
Victims to be caught upon
                    her wondering lusts.

For the best poison was that
   which took time to ****.
   And her bite was anything
   but fast acting upon her prey.

She never charged as much as
      those who were below her class.
              For she was scorned before.

And those who chose her beauty over
         instinct, only had themselves
                                                to blame.

For her man, was a walker of corners,
                      catching eyes of cheap thrills.
       His gift to her was a ring and a death sentence
                                                                        of A.I.D.S..

And now she passes the gift given without consent,
        to those who would choose a vine vintage soured
by gangrene grapes.  They'll all taste her sweetness,
     only to poisoned by its taste after swallowing  it.
Sep 9 · 185
When Problems Tighten
Poetic T Sep 9
I clung to hope,
              but it was to tight
                             to loosen.

I swung silently in despair.
Sep 9 · 133
rough waters
Poetic T Sep 9
rough waters

pebbles do tumble
rocky shores
3/5/3 haiku
Sep 7 · 111
Organic Thoughts
Poetic T Sep 7
Synthetic thoughts,
compromised  by organic

synaptic pathways
                           worn down
by rudimentary contemplations.

"What am I"

Am I who I see
am I just memoires
              looking back..
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