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Nothing is forever
Even gravity was conquered
So chin up little soldier
I promise you will love another
 Sep 2013 Sonny Day
Allen Wilbert
Are you lonesome tonight,
did you and your hubby have a fight.
You know you're always welcome here,
I will wipe away any kind of tear.
Take your coat off and stay awhile,
hang here with me, til you reconcile.
It doesn't matter how long it takes,
people always will make mistakes.
Is that your husband banging on my door,
screaming come out you two timing *****.
I just called the local police,
don't want my landlord to break my lease.
I warned you not to marry that creep,
you take the bed, on the couch, I will sleep.
We have been friends a very long time,
I would give you my very last dime.
I hated when we drifted apart,
you broke my unbreakable heart.
When we met, I loved you from first glance,
if you weren't married, would you give me a second chance.
Are you lonesome tonight,
would you cheat on your husband out of spite.
Is your heart filled with pain,
you could always hop on my happy train.
Then you slapped me in the face,
I was called out going to first base.
When you said no I felt so rejected,
that is what I kinda suspected.
Now my apartment is bare,
I'm alone and standing there.
I guess hitting on her wasn't so bright,
cause now I'm the one who is lonesome tonight.
 Sep 2013 Sonny Day
Allen Wilbert
Diary Of A Serial Killer

My life began normal,
in a very small town,
I can't remember once ever having a frown.
I'm not sure how I became a mad hatter,
but who really cares,
and what does it matter.
My first **** was the guy who ***** my sister,
ever since then my brain has had a blister.
Now i **** people just for fun,
and never have I had to use a gun.
I randomly pick people,
from my local telephone book,
and it don't matter,
if you're a plumber, lawyer or a cook.
I stalk you for days,
I even go to your work,
I once even killed the local town clerk.
At every crime scene, I leave a small clue,
I mark their body, with a small tattoo.
I have killed twenty, maybe even more,
then I leave them ******,
on their own kitchen floor.
The cops can't catch me, I am way to quick,
I am harder to find, then Ole Saint Nick.
When the time comes, I will **** myself,
and maybe my grand kids,
can put my trophies on their shelf.
 Sep 2013 Sonny Day
Robert Frost
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
Goodbye

There he stood, upon that ledge.
Barely a step, from the edge.

Looking down, upon far away ground.
There was no movement, and no sound.

Tears streamed down from that lonely face.
He stood no glory, nor no grace.

'Its all gone, why can't they see?
There's nothing left to take from me.'

'Nothing more I can give,
I've lost the fight, my will to live.'

One more step, one deep sigh.
He closed his eyes, and ceased to cry.

With his last words he whispered to,
Any one that he once knew.

'Good bye, and please don't cry for me.
Sure I'm gone, now you might see.

I couldn't take it anymore,
For all this hurt, there is no cure.

The pain it burned and killed my heart.
You all hated me from the start.

I only wish, the one that mattered,
Would have seen, instead that shattered.

He didn't even realize,
That I loved him; that I tried.

Goodbye, all, its time to die.'
And with that he plunged, from the sky.

His last words, with his last breath,
His last movement, what a mess.

The tears that shed, upon his grave.
The flowers that, weepers gave.

If only they would have showed,
How much they love it, that he glowed.

If only they would have seen,
The sadness that stole his dream.

And the one whose love he didn't know,
Echoed through his heart also,

Wept upon his grave that day,
Then followed him, the same way.
 Sep 2013 Sonny Day
Thomas Hardy
“Ah, are you digging on my grave,
My loved one?—planting rue?”
—”No: yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
‘It cannot hurt her now,’ he said,
‘That I should not be true.’”

“Then who is digging on my grave,
My nearest dearest kin?”
—”Ah, no: they sit and think, ‘What use!
What good will planting flowers produce?
No tendance of her mound can loose
Her spirit from Death’s gin.’”

“But someone digs upon my grave?
My enemy?—prodding sly?”
—”Nay: when she heard you had passed the Gate
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
She thought you no more worth her hate,
And cares not where you lie.

“Then, who is digging on my grave?
Say—since I have not guessed!”
—”O it is I, my mistress dear,
Your little dog , who still lives near,
And much I hope my movements here
Have not disturbed your rest?”

“Ah yes! You dig upon my grave…
Why flashed it not to me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among human kind
A dog’s fidelity!”

“Mistress, I dug upon your grave
To bury a bone, in case
I should be hungry near this spot
When passing on my daily trot.
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
It was your resting place.”
 Sep 2013 Sonny Day
Helen
1
Sorry I'm not enough
2
Sorry I'm not tough
3
Sorry I'm not pretty
4
Sorry I have no pity
5
Sorry I can't cry
6
Sorry I can't try
...
274
Sorry we clash
275
Sorry my eye is black
276
Sorry for my smile
277
Sorry for a while
...
423
Sorry I looked up
424
Sorry I looked down
425
Sorry I looked around
426
Sorry I looked at the ground
...
789
Sorry for the heartache
790
Sorry for the pleasure
791
Sorry for the misconception
792
Sorry for the false treasure
...
997
Sorry we connected
998
Sorry we felt at ease
999
Sorry you wasted so many years
1000
Apologies
My lines
Do not measure up together, perfectly
Each time

My rhymes
Are not always perfect in the silly sense that
They are timed

And I do not care
That perfection is hardly in my reach,
Let alone in my speech

I do not care
That you can't see where I write from
And what it means to every poem

I cannot care
Because it would destroy me as a writer
Turn me from a romantic lover to a vicious fighter
Because that is what happens when no one understands a man
That is what happens when I do everything I can
To find a person, even one, that understands where I am
Not a person, even one, understands where I am
But I understand where I am

So I take the cap off of this pen
And I begin to write again
And I won't stop
Until the words make sense
*(at least to me)
You are the clock on the wall in the room, you never fail to mark your presence
You are the air around my body when I move, engulfed in my own fragrance
You are the cool of my recently flipped pillow that fades before I can, again, fall asleep
You are the lines on the carpet as I attempt to walk around in a house that you left me

You are everywhere,
without being anywhere
I can't go anywhere,
You are everywhere

You are the pictures in my basement that I couldn't burn like the rest
You are responsible for half of the words that lay heavy on my chest
and I am responsible for the rest
You are the blue lines settled on this white page at my desk
You are the clock in my room, just like the rest
You never fail to mark your presence
You are not like the rest
I don't miss the rest
I miss you
Not the best thing I've written but this has a special underlined meaning. Not even you will understand.
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