Where is the inspiration?
How do I channel it?
Do I wait in silence
for hours and hours
or does it only take a bit?

Why can't I write?
Even though I want to.
I got the ideas in my head,
but they never seem to come through.

Is it lack of confidence?
Maybe I'm no good?
Maybe I am, maybe I'm good,
but then I think
"What is the likelihood?"

When it's over
Tell them I was the girl who cried everyday
But also laughed as well.

Tell them that I had learned when the birds sing the sweetest: at the break of day and just after it Rains.

Tell them that just because someone seems like they're all put together, doesn't mean they are
and sometimes the brightest lights come from the most dangerous stars.

Tell them my biggest pet peeve was that my second toe was longer than my first,
And often on the days you wake up with no hope, they just get worse.

When it's over please tell them it wasn't all bad….


I just didn't have much help with the sad. But there wasn’t just bad, there was also the good.

Seasoned food, and
Starry skys
Moonlight night walks
A boy with blue eyes.

When it’s over tell them I wasn’t sad like they saw,
and by the end of it, I had given my all.

Speeding is naughty
It's against the law
But everyone does it
So no-one is ashamed

Running red lights is the same
It is naughty too
And everyone knows it
So we all sit patiently

Then Mark said to Tom
"People are inconsistent.
"Why do they speed when
"They won't go past a red?"

Tom listened carefully
He agreed with the statement
So now he drives through red lights
And the universe is angry with him

Why can't my liver filter thoughts like it does with alcohol?

It would save me the trouble of all the money I've spent to free myself of bad decisions,

There is so much formality within a sober moment, while my drunkenness speaks freely,

My brain doesn't erase moments like alcohol does, yet my liver puts up a fight reminding me to think,

Fantasizing over an image created by theses slurred and blurred overzealous eyes,

I am attracted to bars like teachers are to mls style, and to this day I'm still not sure which one has been more beneficial.

Looking down the road of allowing glass, I measured my state of mind to pick my poison,

Tequila adds a flower to a withering soul, vodka snuffs out the light where it gets to bold, whiskey fakes the fight with its bros, while gin loosens the bones and wine your emotions, at last we have beer a truth serum more powerful than love,

What they all take is feeling, a small price to learning what we see in the refection is really something we refuse to collude with.

My liver is always amazed, the amount of control I give to it, whilst the hand with a drink in it stays steady,

The other acquires shame, controlled by a freedom of released inhibitions,

If I could escape the safety of the dinner lights for the missing love that I thought drive me here,

My liver is alone, in the battle, like one soldier who's realized that their command center threw them into a death trap and their enemies are mindless zombies of fallen memories,

My toast is not alone, followed by smiles and condolences, significant enough to convince everyone, maybe one more.

Did you ever just lay awake?
If you haven't, I'm sorry.
If you haven't been kept awake from your dreams
Or lost a wink from the anxiety of unknown
I don't think you're doing life right.
The feeling of being exhausted
kept awake by all the forces in your head
It's awful but it's in moments like this
You remember how wonderful being alive is.

I hate waking up in a scared sweat.
I'm more relieved my nightmares slide away.
How many times have you died in a dream?
It's not as many as you'd think,
If you really thought about it I mean.
I've heard it's good luck though.
I'm afraid of winning the lottery in my unconscious
It may be the worst real luck I ever see.

Whatever the case, you're doing great
If you're on top of the world,
Soar as far as that streak runs you.
If you're in a terrible slump,
Rock that pit like a champ.
Don't ever stop being,
Simply being whatever you are.
Damn it's perfect.
Why do so many people mold themselves
Don't do it. Be happily, you.

No one cares
No one wants to know
I wanna be free
I wanna let go
I wasn't trying to push you all away
But it's for the best
You may not realise it but
I'm just no good

I COMPOSE MY POEMS
ON TOPICS I SEE
HOW YOU REACT IS
TOTALLY UP TO THEE


THERE IS NO MALICE
OR HARM OR CONTEMPT
JUST INFORMATION I COLLECT
A POEM I ATTEMPT


THE WORDS EVOKE EMOTION
THE TYPE SET DOSE NOT MATTER
HOW YOU UNDERSTAND THE POEM
WILL START INTERNET CHATTER


THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR COMMENTS
AND ALL THE INTEREST IN MY POEMS.
" THE TRUMP CHRONICLES " WILL DEFINITELY
CREATE EMOTIONS.