Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2013 Sir B
st64
not ur car
 Oct 2013 Sir B
st64
a butterfly-garden on a hill
behind the wall
of
your par-need




who fills the tank
                                 and pays the bills?
                                                          ­         it's not ur car..

who rots away in a meeting
                                  while trailing mind-tunnels out
                                                             ­           doodles to escape tedium..

who feels despair on the shoulder
                                  and tries to **** it up
                                                              ­         while hearing the ocean's call..

who sees the stark-brilliance
                                      right before unbelievably blind-eyes
                                                      ­                  casting pearls before swine..


hey..
*******, man!




we see only what we want to see
why can nobody see
the rare butterflies
right here
in our midst?*


S T - 10 octagon 2013
baby, u can drive my car :)

but first, u need some flippin' de-conditioner for ur.. head!

step one.. read more varied poetry - yes, I must!
step two.. get a good bicycle.. maybe, a Raleigh.. lol (and a helmet, hey - very NB)
step three.. ah, what the hell.. lemme grab a sand-wish already :)
 Oct 2013 Sir B
soul in torment
Oh shall we play space men today
and build a rocket Ted
we need two suits some gloves and boots
and helmets for our head

A packing crate stood tall and straight
dad's funnel placed on top
three books so thin each one a fin
and Mommies broken mop

A beanbag chair we two can share
and buttons we can push
some sandwiches and light switches
and cans of Orange crush

Some dials and springs and other things
we found in daddies shed
now that looks neat so take a seat
and start the countdown Ted

We watched the stars that once so far
where now within our grip
Count ten to one ignition on
Blast off in rocket ship

The silver moon would greet us soon
as upward we both sped
through clouds of white to black of night
just me and mister Ted

The rocket turned as thrusters burned
as we altered our course
for here you see the gravity
Had very little force

We journeyed forth toward the north
by meteor and star
as comets whizzed and pinged and fizzed
and flew both near and far

We passed the plough and saw a cow
jump clean over the moon
then stations manned prepared to land
beside a giant dune

Beneath our feet a silver sheet
of fallen stars and sand
and as we two took in the view
Ted held me by the hand

The solar breeze blew round our knees
and tickled as it passed
time now to go yes Ted I know
this day has gone so fast

seated inside we watched the tide
So slowly ebb and flow
then 10 to 1 zero and gone
we raced the mornings glow

home safe and sound we kissed the ground
and ran in for our tea
I turned to Ted and softly said
the moon just winked at me

What shall we be next time said he
cowboys or maybe kings
I do not know I whispered low
let's see what morning brings
 Oct 2013 Sir B
soul in torment
The mines

mined
my mind

and left behind...

their

darkness
Was in a serious mining accident that was the beginning of my depressive state of mind
 Oct 2013 Sir B
soul in torment
I crashed ...

they tried rebooting
but

finally

pulled

the plug
Overcome by your
moving temple,
Overcome by this
holiest of altars

So pure,
so rare,
to witness such an earthly goddess;
that I've lost my self control,
beyond compelled to throw this dollar down before your
Holiest of altars

I'd sell
My soul
My self-esteem a dollar at a time

One chance
One kiss
One taste of you, my Magdalena

I bear witness
To this place, this prayer, so long forgotten;
so pure,
so rare,
to witness such an earthly goddess.

That I'd sell
My soul
My self-esteem a dollar at a time
For one chance,
One kiss,
One taste of you my, black Madonna

I'd sell
my soul
My self-esteem
a dollar at a time

For one taste,
one taste,
one taste of you, my Magdalena
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDCCjGf2v1E

"Magdalena" is the original surname of Mary Magdalene.
 Oct 2013 Sir B
Jay
If I should have a son,
Instead of mom, he's gonna call me Support
That way he knows, no matter what happens, I'll be there to hold open the heavy doors.
And I'm gonna paint the solar systems on the fronts of his game controllers
So he has to learn the entire universe before he can say "I'll school you in that!"
And he's gonna learn that this life will bury you
Deep
Underground
Wait for you to claw your way out just to throw dirt in your eyes
But not being able to see which way is up is the only way to remind your pupils how much they enjoy the beauty of this earth
And there is hurt here, that cannot be fixed by alcohol or drugs
So when he realizes Superman isn't coming, I'll make sire he doesn't have to wear the cape all by himself
"And sweetie" I'll tell him, "dont let your head get so big"
I know that trick, I've seen it a million times,
you're just looking to impress that pretty ******* the cheer squad who picks on other kids to adjust her own self worth
Or better yet, date the girls getting picked on, then dump her to adjust YOUR self worth.
But I know he will anyways
So I'll always keep an extra supply of "I taught you betters" and "Treat girls rights"
Even though all boys learn that at a young age...
Okay, most boys don't,
But that's what moms are for
They'll teach you to be amazing husbands if you let them.
When he opens his hands to catch, and drops the ball
When the girl he likes says no to going on that date with him
when it feels like the world is crashing in
Those are the days he has all the more reason to say thank you,
because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the sun refuses to stop kissing the horizon, no matter how many hours it must spend spinning away.
And yes, on a scale of one to greatest, moms pretty much know it all
But I want him to know that this world will throw curveballs that I can't see
And he can't be afraid to put on his mitt and catch it himself
"And sweetie" I'll tell him
Remember your momma is a queen, and your poppa is a king
and you are the boy with big eyes and a willing heart who never stops trying
Your aren't big yet, but don't stop growing
And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip peer pressure and sin under your door and give you hand outs on street corners of druggies and defeat.
you tell them
that they really outta meet
Your Mother
My version of "If I should have a daughter x Sarah Kay"
 Oct 2013 Sir B
Mike Hauser
i am older than i look

younger than i feel

with only death ahead of me

to finalize and seal the deal
 Oct 2013 Sir B
Maria
First
 Oct 2013 Sir B
Maria
I know him as well as you can know someone in high school

I know him as well as you can memorize someones class schedule and favorite songs

As well as you can get used to hands on shoulders, hands on hips, hands on hands.

But the freckles on his arms are not nearly enough to make up constellations from so I'll make do with my finger tips

Big dipper and little dipper..they seem to fit
But I don't think he has favorite stars, so I hope that the freckles on my face are enough to satify the absence of astrology in his world

I found out that  our hands can be magnetic when bonfires attract us like moths to light and everything is always better in twos
  
Lately I have seen that this relationship of ours is unavoidable

He is the curb, the pole, the door frame that I will never miss, that I will always bump into, fall over, and fall for

You see, we were never the same apart as we are together, and I haven't been able to stop searching the room for his face since

Only a certain number of people join you when you laugh so hard you fall breathless

Even less will catch you on the way down

Sometimes his hands linger on my waist after he hugs me
those are the best kind of hugs

He is the only person that has ever made me feel adequate for slow dancing


Sometimes he smiles when our eyes meet

I dont know whether he does it out of habit or because he likes the way I smile back

I have decided I do not care which one, I'll take what I can get.
How do you explain something that always sticks/ a string of thoughts from the weekend

Feedback is always welcome :)
I remember the smell
In the library,
The quilt squares
That covered the tall shelves,
Homes to old, aging pages;
The aroma of faded words,
Fresh and strong,
Like the nail polish remover
Used to steal away
The chipped, black polish,
That lied over my long fingernails.
The nail polish that had once
Matched the dress I wore at your funeral.
My only memories of you
Hide within the perfume
Of musty bindings.
if you are unaware of who this poem is a tribute to, please, step away from the keyboard and go to your nearest library. Search Edgar Allan Poe.
 Oct 2013 Sir B
soul in torment
I'll never measure up to much...

as

I'm only

5'6
Next page