in the pitch black water standing not knowing which way the shore it had to have been in summer i don't remember being there before but i know that it happened the surrounding memories who i was with, how i got back it's not so clear to me
i wasn't the same since Florence i hide and hope for the best and i quickly down the rest
in the pitch black water all i know is that i didn't drown
You can have a favourite political party You can support it publicly You can point out others mistakes. You can state facts You can ***** a joke on anyone of them. But you have no rights to use your 'public figure' status to influence someone's mind. You are playing all wrong. You can outsmart/ outwit someone's thought here, but only here! Being a public figure, you have the freedom to speak and write your thoughts and the bheed will follow you. But from being an important person you have some unsaid responsibilities which clearly, many ignore. You can state facts without portraying your filthy brain Divisive Mindset on people who do not know how to counter question you. So, basically you are being smart to those who aren't actually questioning you! Which indirectly means you are weak... Very weak indeed. My advice to you people is, start talking to the people who beg to differ from you and have the write wit and the words to question you. So that even you can be sure of your lovely choices. Thanks for reading this!
I don't need their support if I have got my own rules. I have character most of which others won't know, I appreciate others more than ever, I haven't thought of bad of any even in my dreams, I have being deep into darkness alone, Now with that deepness, I can see clear, I stayed true myself 'coz of which I have the guts to be myself, I have the courage to live myself, & on this journey I have inspired myself to be more..
I don’t know that I trust myself To keep my brains like a raw egg When the time comes (when I’m supposed to know what to do) And not to ***** my skull, See my brains drip into the bowl, Mix them up for a broken yolk, And then pour them into the pan So they can scram(ble.)
Sometimes I wonder If I’ll have to salt them or add any pepper or just dig in.
Sometimes I hunger To know everything Sometimes I feel so engorged I’d rather know nothing.
The worst part is not knowing That the worst part is knowing.
I want to hate my own guts But that’s--that's utterly nuts, For it’s never the guts Should be disdained— It’s the yolk in my egg, or The stuff in my brains in my head.
He holds a pen in one hand His heart in another The vessel of precious blood still beating Dripping sweetly, carelessly on the weathered and worn parchment of his life The stain a hypnotizing hue, Slowly as surely the man puts forth his pen And from the dribble of ink a word is formed The word ,,, a ghastly form The sorts of laughter in a funeral The mighty mask of conscious preparation Escapes him, no wit to be found, And the world is his audience Afraid and unaware He strikes the word from meaning No clever story to resolve the conflict No victory toast no victor song, The man once was held his heart In hand And all he wrote was FEAR
Drunk and trying my hand at intoxicated poetry, hope you enjoy,