Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I can't live with these thoughts
Take them from me permanently
Or ready my pine box

All life's cheap shots
I've never found a remedy
All pleasantry coagulates or clots

Vast planes of sparse spots
Riddle my memory so little to no memory
Only empty, inflammatory subpar plots

My past leaches off my future as it rots
Leaving mostly nothing left for me
Subsequently having less than the have nots

Thomas Harvey May 16
He wakes in the morning
Sore from all the years before
But he's still strong at his core
As life always proceeds without warning

This morning's no different
He gets his coffee and sits at the table
Looking out the window, admiring the horses in the stable
Though he's at the age where he feels indifferent

Later on in the day he gets moving
For a dead man is a lazy man
He knows long ago he would have ran
But these days he’s bound to keep improving

A man that should be full of sorrow
He finds a way to enjoy the moment
Grief to him is a worthy opponent
As he looks forward to each tomorrow

The trick is locked away in his mind
He figured it out long ago
Back when he let go of his ego
The trick is to start with what you want to find
George Krokos May 13
What!? You say you're tired of living,
well, I think I know what you mean
as I also don't regard myself being
particularly, at all now, very keen.

The last couple of years have taken their toll on me
so much so that its become obvious for any to see.
The affairs of this world are just one thing I've considered
but what are the things I've done which haven't delivered?
Written in 2023.
A reflection on my current health condition and well being.
Thomas Harvey May 12
How pretty, how pretty
You are to me
Bright as the lights in the city
With you I long to be

I would, I would
Buy you flowers to hold
Say the word and I could
Let my love me a mold

For I, For I
May never feel this again
Assure me it’s not a lie
Take us to where love begins

Goodbye, Goodbye
Maybe it was just a dream
Perhaps the flames have died
What else could it mean
Thomas Harvey May 12
He sat lounged back in the chair
The sun shing into his face
Almost as if he had been hit by mace
Yet he didn’t care

There was a point in life where he did
But time took care of that
So, he just sits there with his hat
With nothing left to bid

Even the smallest piece of paradise he still stresses
He works too much to know how to live
And he lives too little to give
It’s his normal for life to be a mess

One day his body will die
For his spirit has been long gone
He himself has become a pawn
A crippled bird who can no longer fly
Silence is a weird thing
Too much can make a man crazy
Too little could do the same

Yet here I sit in silence
Dreading the past
And forgetting the present

But what about the future you ask?
Why worry of what’s next
Why plan a next step

To live is to die
I accept the moment for what is
Which is grateful for what was

I have no code to myself
Just a rule or two
Mostly rewritten

So go ahead and cry today
Save your energy for what may
And try to save your pity
Truly for truly, did they not often feel
like everyone’s personal convenience.
So convenient for people to know them, — just to be
what’s in store, for them all to buy into their dreams.

How convenient; suiting people’s purposes so well;
well enough, as a worn-out suit; to suit those only in
a matter of addressing their personal battles, grievances,
qualms and historical hurts.

It must be so frustrating, to see the reflection of such pain
in these eyes; painted red from every tear we all had cried.
A mask in disguise; a disgust in the discussion of how
their given something, is looked later on as purely NOTHING.

Truly for truly, it must be worth the hurt,
for us to repeatedly be the better person,
around those who only give you and I the worst.
People are truly the worst; and so too
must be loved the most.
Yes I am greedy
for a single tomorrow
no wonderful shining moment
no rivers and rainbows
nor sunrise sunset skies of gold and cotton candy pink
just another day, like many others I have seen
a belly full of living, would be food enough I think
Jeremy Betts Apr 14
Living and breathing
The caretaker of a broken heart
One that's half assed patched together
And worn on my short sleeve in any weather
Right out in the open for everyone to take a shot at destroying
Taking quite a beating
Almost succeeding
Breath unanimously labeled a necessity
It's the only choice we can't make
For fuuck sake
No one's never, in the history of ever, ask to be here
Not allowed to choose when you leave here
It's looking like a cult is what we got here
It's the only thing you're not allowed to be bad at
What do you do when it's the thing you are worst at?

Next page