I wasn't the one who ****** up, right?
I wasn't the one who was the blight

Listen, for a short while you shook my hand
But in honesty the memories are just bland

And I'm not the one who was the fool
You were the one who changed out of the blue

I won't trust you again I'll get better at choosing
So I don't have to leave my heart with bruising

You're not the tenant here anymore
I think I have put you on permanent ignore

And believe me I won't hold a grudge
So don't go around telling the next one I was the one to budge

Please don't call, don't write, don't visit
Go on with your life but don't twist it, into something it isn't

Don't even ask in ten years how I've been
Because this is the final ******* fin

​It's quite funny because time so fast have elapsed,
yet you seemed to crawl under my skin and to my spine attach,

it's like watching a fixed dog fight so it costs a life,
but now I'm to old to cut the pain away with a knife,

I just want to end up on some warm tropical beach,
where I don't have to handle this beef,

wedged under my ribs something is frozen,
because I really thought you were the chosen.

Just the other day I was out in the woods where I used to play around as a kid, the rocks and small mounts where I would on wet and slippery moss skid, but that was years ago by now all the trees had gotten rid, laying about in masses and twigs and branches just spread out like a battlefield, god forbid.

The old pond where when there were rough winters and the ice were thick enough we would compete who furthest slid, where thick brush and large tree trunks we could see who best hid, to think that all that glee and all that childish joy I just put a lid, worrying now over how my credit balance does on the grid, how much on the dream house I should bid.

It's a strange feeling growing up and wishing you were older and when you get old you wish that you were young and still had that chip on your shoulder, now carrying doubts and fears on your shoulders like a boulder, wishing that you were not the one being the stakeholder, but I suppose it's all in the eternal eyes of the beholder, but god I wish I never got older.

It's funny how I've always written about hardships and love,
yet only one really fit me like a glove,

Both always take more from me than I take and always end up with hurt,
yet I always throw myself into both like a spurt,

I don't know what wicked god always seem to bless and ****,
perhaps it's my destiny just to go out in a bam,

For once control over my destiny I want to assert,
my trigger finger is always alert,

​I have this watch that every hour produces a beep,
making me count every hour I'm losing sleep,

Because no matter how hard no rest i can reap,
not knowing how you are or hearing from you make my skin creep,

No matter what because you've manage to every pore seep,
utterly from under me my very being you sweep,

And I know my words by now seem very cheap,
but they along my being are yours to keep.

Like a gentle and beautiful rose sprung out of the soil

pure and innocent like the first snow nothing it can spoil

but yet jagged and thorned defensively, a true nature's toil


Spreading up towards the sky for the feeble sunlight

closing up every night when the cold comes oh so tight

but seems so untouched and pure like without plight


Love is like a rose having it's thorns but yet it's temptation

many fall fools to the beautiful and pure creation

but few are willing to withstand when it brings damnation


Love isn't just beautiful pedals or ever so green thorns

false love you fall a fool for and can't handle to grab the horns

true love is when you with pride wear that crown of thorns


True love is when you're not afraid of petty thorns, you grab them and hold on until you bleed out and prove that you are worth feeling love.

When it drops you shiver
You ***** even your liver
Trees are shaking and birds are waking up.
They are confused by the miracle from the sky.
Quick and loud and flashing white,
the world looks lika a frightening sight.
Louder than dragon, quicker than bolt,
thunder and storm are scaring us all.

I was having a cigarette
On top of a ziggurat
When I asked the Sphinx
To say what he thinks.
He said I’d know what he did
If I were in the pyramid.
But instead I had got
Myself on a ziggurat
So, he couldn’t say what
He truly thought he thought.

Then the Sphinx said to me
There will be lots of mystery
And I am certainly not joking
But you must give up smoking.
Because an important answer
Is that ziggurats cause cancer.

I don’t believe that is so.
I feel I must let you know
That there isn’t a chance
I mean, look how you dance
With your body all flat
In those tall pointy hats
Your elbows look broken
So, I know you are joking
And making an ancient pun,
You are just having fun
With a modern American.
I will do whatever I can
To try to catch the basic gist
Of whatever I have missed.

Then uttered the Sphinx
You logic is missing some links.
I’m older than the pyramids
And you are all just kids.
Now you know what the Sphinx thinks.

While sleeping in my bed
Rhymes escape my head.
I maunder them around
Then write them down
And publish them instead.

That is, those worth keeping
That I write while sleeping
That often turn out to be
Happily approved by me.
A poetic parrot peeping.

An internal rhyming thing.
Almost an eternal ping
That runs through my brain
There to sometimes remain
And bubble back upon rising.

Sometimes it wakes me up
And I brew myself a quick cup
Because at that time
In search of a rhyme
That goes with boxer pup or buttercup.

I haven’t made a dime from this
My middle-of-the-night muse’s kiss.
I just gleefully scribble
And sometimes I giggle
No matter it’s a hit or a miss.

Far be it from me to complain.
For so many poems remain
That turn out terrific
That I’m labelled prolific.
Either that, or poetically insane.