We kept complaining,
Of how much work was remaining.
We do it to be obtaining,
Thinking we will one day be attaining...
Oh Swami Bapa we have done no such work,
To be of your worth,
Yet you Smile,
And hold our hand to the last mile....
I wish you would just let me
Wash away the pain
But right now you're a thunderstorm
That's complaining about the rain
Just let me help you
Isn’t it weird that you can take a nap and still wake up tired?
What’s the point of napping if it just makes me feel worse than before?
Isn’t it weird that people drink decaf coffee?
What’s the point of drinking coffee if it isn’t going to be caffeinated?
Isn’t it weird that i think these are weird?
What’s the point of me complaining?
Sometimes it’s hard to end a day, of heavy work, for little pay, then go to sleep, not much to say, and dream of nothing, as I lay, but work, work, work…
I like to complain, it makes me feel better!
So I’m daft?
Just because I blast music to escape
The complaining household I’m in
And this planet that appears to be
Ever so loud and uncaring
Yet they apologise
As if it'll solve world hunger
I’m daft becuase my cat like ears
Hear all the groans and sighs
Hearing all the kids in class scream
And you two talking about me
Under your wasted breath
I’m daft because I prefer to be
Alone in my room where I’m safe
And away from you both
So I’m daft
Just cos I barely eat meat
And prefer to read rock magazines
Than old books and girly magazines
I'm daft because I prefer to sleep in a bunk bed
With no one sleeping on the top bunk
Because I'm daft! I'm daft, that's why!
Inspired by something my mum called me while I nearly walked off without her.
If you want a rhythm I'll give you twenty, you want more rhythms?
Well Iv'e got plenty.
Red fish Blue Fish. Nothing new.
old fish new fish, walk a day in my shoes.
These rhythms are ridiculous, and sure it's a poem, but I'm tired of all this.
Get your boring poems off of my land.
And yes this poem *****, you could assume.
Because rhythming is useless, when trying to express, you feelings and thoughts.
It makes me depressed. Poems should be thoughtful.
Not just a rhythming typhoon.
But my real question is,
And what really matters most
Do you know
what rhythms with orange?
I made this on the bus and yeah. I suppose it's okay.
Okay so I wanted to answer some of your comments with saying. I know things can Rythm with orange. But in this poem it's not supposed to be taken literally. I don't know what your Interpretation may be but just a note from the poet himself.
i sit across a redwood
who hear themselves asking how i am
but never hear me answering
i sit behind a redwood
tip tapping feet in the shadow
they want to tip tap on out
i sit beside redwoods
others with their own familiar strangers
who hear themselves asking how they are
but never hear them answering
strange how we bond over
the fact that no one
happy thanksgiving to my
here’s to another year of
never being thankful until
we feel guilty
the day after thanksgiving and no one is really thankful anymore. my mother likes to complain, and i suppose i do too.
I urgently need some sleep
And from my everyday sins I will keep
It's better to live in the world of fantasy
than in this fake world of love scarcity
I just hope that I will survive with these dreams
Because in my dreams I always screams
Nightmares attack me from left and right
but my guts tells me it's gonna be alright
Demons inside grow bigger and bigger
Attack my soul and my mind become weaker and it's a looser
Makes me angry and I wanna pull a trigger
Demons derive my spirit
And my soul is immersed in a bursting liquid as I call It
My flesh is weak and sins are conceived
give birth to death and my blessings, I won't receive
I left with nobody and I'm wholly vulnerable
It's only in my dreams where I'm untouchable
So don't blame me if I want to escape from reality
I can't keep holding on, I want mobility
I've been caring too much weight on my shoulder
mean while I'm very young to live like a soldier
But I learned that prayer is the only weapon
to defeat this weakest pawn
that makes Me sin and my angels fall
But since I've been calling "Jesus" "Jesus" now I'm tall