#scrap
shred, dash, drop, pinch, soupçon, jot, iota, whit,
atom, smattering, scintilla, hint, suggestion, tinge,
a modicum of good works,
my endeavor, to serve and deliver,
man's bounty of good words
from my kitbag,
fresh, hot, n' crusty
just like me....
Hello Poetry!
Feb 2014
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
shes always been interested in dental hygeine. brought together by zero dollars but you cannot put a numeral on kindness
Nov 25, 2024
Nov 25, 2024 at 2:52 PM UTC
long sleeve silver chain you feel like something different. does it matter will it change i think im going missing. im afraid that whats becoming bitter jaded pessimistic, crawling all that i had fallen the time had finally came
Nov 25, 2024
Nov 25, 2024 at 2:52 PM UTC
inexplicably unavoidable
please be kind to me for i am not strong
although i know you are unable
and by that i mean that you refuse
im sorry youre not someone else
im sorry you are you
Oct 22, 2023
Oct 22, 2023 at 10:58 PM UTC
there is something up there
bending burning melting hurting
and it keeps me silent
Oct 22, 2023
Oct 22, 2023 at 10:50 PM UTC
In the scrap workshop
I build monster vehicles --
Modern Frankensteins.
Aug 15, 2023
Aug 15, 2023 at 4:18 AM UTC
I float without meaning,
just my head in the clouds
dreaming
.
.
I'm stressing myself out,
just; to have recognition
that I can do something meaningful
.
.
and to distract me from the eyes of envy
that kills me slowly, oh so slowly
Even though I am far younger
then most people here
.
.
I long for the talents they have
because I am surrounded
by people
whose talents greater than I have
.
.
I take a scroll every day;
and see them
I don't like it;
but
it's okay
.
.
.
"It's alright,"
.
.
Since that's what
I always say
right?
.
.
I feel like a fragment;
either reused as
something greater
or
.
.
.
.
.
I
want to
disappear without
trace; and memories of
the sea along with the sky;
that lacks
its own sense
in
a weird
way
-brumous
Apr 28, 2021
Apr 28, 2021 at 10:02 PM UTC
dunes roll beneath my toes
black sand over my belly
and silver into my nose
Feb 15, 2022
Feb 15, 2022 at 2:00 AM UTC
she advanced like a gunshot
right through my heart and my life
pierced my chest with a blade
but there was love on the knife
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 12:40 AM UTC
why yes
I do indeed
want to read
another single chapter
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 12:13 AM UTC
slicing whispers
inside of your head
gun shots on your tab
liquor in your holster
several left for dead
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 1:10 PM UTC
You always told me that I was good with my words
And I always told you that, that’s not true
It’s not true because I’m only good with my words...
When all my words are about you
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 11:28 PM UTC
I always say that once a friendship breaks and mends back again, that it’s never the same
No matter how much you want it to be the same...
It never will be
A relationship is like a piece of glass
When it shatters, all of those pieces scatter
And you find yourself left to pick up the pieces
You get hurt... hurt from the sharp edges of the glass and hurt by the person who broke it
You try to fix it...
You think you’ve put it back together again but there are some pieces missing...
You don’t know what happened to them
You spend hours searching and then tell yourself that you don’t need those pieces
That the pieces are not important
But deep down you know...
You know that it’s incomplete
You know that it’s no longer perfect
You know that it won’t be the same anymore
But you don’t want to let yourself know that
You put on a smile...
You don’t let them know they’ve hurt you
You don’t let them know you’re incomplete
That whatever you guys had is broken and different and imperfect
And it hurts, it hurts when you think about it
It hurts that you cut yourself on the glass of what you had and it hurts that you want it back to the way it was
But... it can’t go back
It can’t go back because the pieces are missing
It can’t go back because the glass isn’t the same anymore
It can’t go back because now, you’re left with shattered glass
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
They say that, “the saddest poems are the ones that were never read by the person they were written for”
But how do I tell you that... you’ve read all the poems I wrote about you
You just didn’t know they were for you
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 10:16 PM UTC
there's not much I don't know I do know
but there's quite a bit I know that I don't
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 12:27 AM UTC
I would rather not see
I would rather not be
another on the shelf
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 12:59 AM UTC
her name not on your tab
her texts you've left on read
her smiles you don't have
her presence you now dread
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 6:48 PM UTC