Too old to believe
that Time has no end.

Tinnitus of death
rings bells in his ears.

He knows that the worst
is sadly yet to come.

He left all Gods behind,
but still turns around.

He calls his own name,
but no one replies.

Too old to be fooled
that Time has no end.

I used to write poetry,
quite prettily,
With flow and effervescent soul
Firm of form and splashed with
The color of a thousand heartbeats
Of dreams and tears and please-accept-me's,
Humble offers of a crumbling spirit
And you could hear it in my words
If you cared to put your ear to my shell,
The ocean in my broken heart churning
Threatening to swallow me whole.
I used to write poetry,
But times have changed,
seen me turn orange and
fall from my branch.
Dry and brittle on the forest floor
I feed the worms.
I feed the roots.
Summer is gone, and winter bears down.
I used to write poetry,
Now I chisel away pieces of
My stony disposition
And fantasize of the warmth
That once kept my heart aflame.

Rick Warr 15h

​where the hell did you come from?

my callow frame in younger days
was cause for derision and nick names
i was a “will o the wisp”
who disappeared when side-ways
magically reappearing when front on

i was lean and keen
a blonde-haired light surfing machine
now when side-ways there is a bump
a belly hump that wasn’t there before

was it habitually too much lunch
that steadily grew the paunch?
was it all those beers and cheers
over the years and years?
was it the invisible slide to a life sedentary
that expanded organs alimentary?
or is it a denial of my peter pan myth
that with age i just have to put up with?

anyway suddenly it seems to have come
but where the hell did it come from?

i looked down one day and my form wasn't quite as it was ?

I went back to my secondary school recently
just to see what it was like without
me in it. I still saw the blue, cheap flooring, rooms
with wooden panelling that definitely
wasn't wood. I still saw ill-fitting shirts
and teachers scowling at boys wearino green
for that girl who's never going
to look at them. I still saw big kids,
too young to be so old, falling into a naïve
love and thinking it's forever.
I could still see the traces
of my clumsy hands
dropping ink all over the floor of the hall,
the streaks where I desperately tried
to clean it up before anyone saw.
Lockers still lined the walls,
only the stickers that had once covered
mine were gone - the only colour
in that hall, the shock
of red in a sea of grey,
had been taken away.
Teachers walked through the halls
to poimt their fingers at herds
of giggling girls but they didn't stop
to smile and talk to me
like they used to. Maybe
it was the change of hair,
or maybe it was just
the next generation of names
erasing mine from their memory.
The next generation of hands
pulling red stickers from old doors.
Soon, hard-soled feet will wear down
the floors and those black trails
of ink will be removed, all of my fingerprints
and scars will be buffed out, scuffed out.
The paintings I left to be exhibited
will be replaced by newer, better ones
by younger students who offer more,
the halls will be filled
with new faces who don't look
quite the same. They don't laugh
quite loud enough or smile
wide enough - they are more vague
and distant than memory
ever suggested.

~~ Goodbye, Hometown. ~~
lostboy 4d

Nature’s broken off brown paper
Crumples inwards and caves inwards.
Flickers of marching band trumpets
Within the harsh sounded breezes.
Ages may always repeat
Yet one always comes and goes.

There is a sure stir in the air
As time seems to be in favour.
New short waves from the next
Generation show maturity.

The buildings shift,
But those who crawl back
From labour hours
Wait for something big;
One small tick.

This current softness,
From one year only before,
Seems to be
A global calm
Before the storm
Of change.

change?
KDM 6d
Age

Tik tok, tik tok
A clock counts down the days,
A mirror shows the wrinkles,
& the memories nearly fade.
Tik tok, tik tok
A pill shuts away the pain,
A doctor says a little longer,
& the grandkids keep away.
Tik tok, tik tok
A perfect life awaits,
A world forgetting ages,
& every worry dissipates.

Today marks a new age for me
Vexren4000 Nov 12

Despair,
Reality a coiling spiral,
A whirlpool of angst,
Hold it all in,
Do not show your pain,
If you are a man,
You will not shed a tear,
And you will accept your fate,
Without objection.

verse one
I ride alone on the bus
You're not just a memory
No one comes with me because I am alone
Give me a tin roof

chorus
I feel lonely and miss the many places I went to
This used to be the place I ran to
I swam in the clear blue ocean, its waves overtaking my weak senses
Over red wine on the eve of summer

verse two
It is windy
God shed his grace on thee
Kids are oh so stupid these days
When it grows wild

chorus
I feel lonely and miss the many places I went to
This used to be the place I ran to
I swam in the clear blue ocean, its waves overtaking my weak senses
Over red wine on the eve of summer

i've been writing more song lyrics lately. hope you like these :)
please leave feedback and comments below :)
Wasting wits Nov 8

Yesterday was my birthday,
It didn't feel quite right.
It felt like any other day,
And any other night.

Yesterday was my birthday,
Everyone pretended to care.
Now it's the next day,
And I'm just someone stealing air.

Yesterday was my birthday,
Thanks for remembering.
All the meaningless posts,
Had left me angered and trembling.

Yesterday was my birthday,
I've lost my significance.
There's nothing left to determine,
Any measurable difference.

Yesterday was my birthday,
I wish it weren't.
Because that'd mean I was never born,
And my waves would never disrupt your current.

laken Nov 8

When we were young,
we played in the rain.

We stomped around
like giants,
smashing oceans with our
rubber boat shoes.

Splashes fly...

On to my cheeks.
As they mix with the salty raindrops
that came from the clouds in my eye sockets,
the frozen puddles fill my heart.

Age has taken our joy and
replaced it with longing.
Oh, how I long for those simplistic,
redundant, damn yellow rain boots.

Mostly, I long for the ease of existing,

where we looked forward to the rain
and trusted it not to drown us.

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