looked out of my window, watery vision. droplets of water making little incisions of blurriness in my decisions. falling out of my senses, feeling defenseless could stare at these droplets racing as if they were in a marathon, childhood memories. steadily, tracing my numb digits against the unsuspecting windowpane, droplets converge briskly, like how you did when you left me. left me for her, a better woman, apparently. never said a word to me, except through the disdain in your eyes. felt the pain shoot my brain like I was supposed to cry a million nights to make you smile. felt the shame like I was meant to be ashamed, pinned blame. every time I look at the rain, I'm reminded of your foolish games.
Thoughts are like raindrops, coming and going one at a time.
I was just another flame in the mist ready to be burned out. I was just another past rekindling some spark with an old spouse. I was just another homeless guy on the street asking for money. I was just another bee pollenating Looking around for some honey.
Something about a day to myself just makes it all worth while again, To love and eat and pray just like a holy ritual where cruelty will never hurt you again. When humans make up ****** accusations just Pin something on you just turn the other cheek, When people have the advantage to ruin what's inside your soul it leaves you in a space not to speak.
Their anger flourishes cause they know they're wrong in times where most of the time parents let society raise their kids while begging for money from the government making money off mental illnesses becoming what the child thought you'd never turn into, hope your heart is bullet proof, crisis flooding to the roof, putting shame on my name, do better, speak the truth, why does everyone that lives and breaths searching for a better virtue, life isn't hard, follow the rabbit it'll guide you. Something about a day to myself just makes it all worth while again, To love and eat and pray just like a holy ritual where cruelty will never hurt you again. When humans make up ****** accusations just to pin something on you just turn the other cheek, When people have the advantage to ruin what's inside your soul it leaves you in a space not to speak.
Failure Too familiar a sensation One that I could use a vacation From ASAP Constantly flooded by thoughts and ways that I could have done better But these days that Go by In the blink of an eye It seems that by The time that I try To do better I find That I’ve failed And if only I could say that I’ve nailed Down a way to rise above that feeling of sadness If only I could, just once, say I had this All figured out If only my actions matched my words in clout I could, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Make things right Take things to new heights Overcome the petty problems and plights That plague my every day life A life rife with strife Rife with the pain of disappointment Like a stab in the chest with a butter knife C’est la vie Such is life Mon ami My friend But this isn’t the end No If you want we can pretend Though That it is for just a minute So let’s stick a pin in it And come back when we’re done Because I won’t let it end ‘til I’ve won At least one time (Once is better but time rhymes) Failure Too familiar a sensation One I view with indignation Despite what good can come of failing Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not hailing Failure as some great thing That we should all strive to bring Into our lives and those around All I’m saying is that failure is worth its weight in gold Pound for pound So I’m told That failure is experience Somewhere between godliness and expedience Hastening our ability to grow And adapt and come to know The difference between wrong and right But even if I know the difference I might Still **** up and that’s okay I remind myself every day That it’s okay to fail It’s okay that you’re in the part of this tale Called life that you’ll make mistakes Like rhyming the above with mushrooms known as shittakes (Okay that was arguably bad But sometimes bad rhymes are to be had When you write at 3am despite needing sleep But you compulsively keep Writing; you can’t put down your pen and pad Oh who am I to kid Everyone knows that I did This on my phone Sitting at home eating garlic hummus alone) Where was I? Oh Failure and success A state of being best left to be assessed By the one who seeks to turn his loss into a win And that’s where we come back to that pin From before The one I said we’d later explore So heed my words carefully Or suffer more pain unendingly Life will never treat you fair, fully So it’s time to start acting comprehendingly As in: comprehend what your failures will do When you learn to use them to become a better you Because life ain’t fair Accept that and beware That life may be unbearable At times (Just like some of these terrible rhymes) But you have to find a way To grin and bear it gleefully Because as they say Mon ami C’est la vie This is the end Now No more pins, rhymes, or lines Just a bow And an adieu And a cow tow From me to you So that you take what I have written And find the thing in life you’ve been smitten By and do what you love even if you fail Even if you whine and moan and wail Until you’re sick and you grow pale Until you learn to use your failure as a tool As a unique stepping stool Onto bigger and better things Even if your failure stings Don’t let it hold you down Don’t let it make you sad and frown Let it bolster you to try again And then When you inevitably succeed When you’re at the top, when you’re in the lead You’ll look back and wished you had read This poem So if you have sad friends Show ‘em This And they won’t be sad for much more (Just angry for rhymes made in poor Taste) But I promise this isn’t a waste Of time I promise this is more than a few words put into rhyme There’s a point, which is this: You’re going to try and you’re going to miss Because failure is an option until it’s not And when it’s not, there’s your shot So have a positive attitude Because life is as good as it’s viewed —pin removed
Crafting scissors Gardening shears A pizza roller Instruments of humble vivisection I wield, I rend, I create. Needles and pins, Nimble and thin, I pierce, I pull, I close. With measured patience I choose my weapons: Ink, passion, time, and wit. An armory of precision and gut. Boulders bruise but roll away, Fire burns, but I'm already ablaze, Arrows lodge shallow or all fall short, But the cold? It slices. The draining thought: Is this the end of my creation - Is there no more? I slowly bleed out.
10.6.17 Inktober Prompt: Sword Rules: The poem is whatever comes out of the pen, no edits allowed.
You sit there on the edge of your bed at seventeen wondering where the **** it all went wrong. Growing up didn’t seem so awful until you realized that eventually you’re going to fall in love with a beautiful girl, and she’s going to tell you she loves you back but not until she loads her gun. So you keep sitting there, at the edge of your bed, praying that she loves the color of your eyes more than she loves the smell of the flowers she’s going to place at your grave. But she doesn’t. She never did. So at seventeen, you decide to jump. You jump off your bed and the fall seems to go on forever. But your bed was never a bed, it was the pedestal she had you on for fifteen months and you finally had the courage to take that leap of faith and free yourself. Except freedom isn’t freedom if you’re still shackled up and chained at the bottom of the oceans in her eyes and helplessly addicted to the satin feel of her skin. You scream and scream, but nothing can break the silence.
That’s when you realize she pulled the trigger and didn’t even kiss you goodbye.
I see the needle in my eye I see the silver tip That holds every microbe known to man I see it In my eye,
In front of my eye-
The tip glistening under the Beam of light that has refracted From the broken windows, it's getting closer now. The silver pin ****** Will soon be dyed in red And all my secrets and Rumours And evil And good Will spill into my hand,
Everything that I know Will be washed away And all my thoughts Will kiss the ***** floor And make a blanket of Colourless emotions And all my soul will pour out When the needle strikes **My eye
Remember to put the pins Back in the pin cushion After you put all the pieces back together, Don't drop them! You wouldn't wish to step On someone else's leftover pins, Or pins you left over from fixing Someone else.