If you have nothing new to say.
Nothing true to say.

Shut the **** up.

Stop feeding off of others words.
They got them from someone else’s plate.

We’ve all had a taste of them, they’re on the ******* dollar menu.

I can’t stand hearing cheap ****,
shut up and go take a hit.
Maybe in your daze,
you’ll find something amaze.

Then write about that.
Not something run over on the road.
Love’s practically flat.

I want to see a flash from a barrel,
and hear a bang from a muzzle.
Every ******* time I read a pseudo-love poem.

Put down the pen on love.
I’m ashamed of the poems I’ve writ about it.
Thinking I had knowledge of something so powerful.

If it’s real, you can’t put it into words.
Let it stay that way.
Indescribable.
Don’t let a pen astray,
on something in an ashtray.

This bridge has been burned for too long.

People don't die alone
They only die lonely

In my next life
I hope that my soul ascends to another planet.
Because I am done with this one.
I hope to emerge in a new galaxy
with new sunsets that are tripled as they sit on the horizon
And are majestically colored.  
I will leave all these trials and tribulations on earth in the Milkyway
And wake up in a different dimension of time where the era is tender, quiet, and sprinkled with magic.

I sit under this crooked tree,
The branches twisted crookedly.
And while I stare up at the pure white sky,
I ponder over love and life.

So as I sit under this crooked tree,
The limbs all bare, a shape strange as can be,
I wonder if it's all a lie.
For surely it can't look like this when I die.