#til
sunday on a saturday afternoon
fills my lungs with soda taste longing
flinging through words never said
to spit out of my head
here i lie on the bedding
sunday comes around
to feed me to the ground
silence waits til i turn to say ‘i found you’
saturday sun on a sweet afternoon
week full, ate up my work til i threw up on you
what was that last thing we spoke about?
like,
just wait til it ends
just wait til it ends
sun sat day to wait til it ends
and then you know like
it starts on a friday night
we’ll tie our hands together
over our new tv
we’ll watch the stories as they play
of a life worth living past sunday
life worth living past sunday
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 12:17 AM UTC
what would u say if i told u the truth and said no
would u tell me
ur thinking of me
praying for me
that it does get easier
that i’m not alone
that ur always there if i need someone to talk to
don’t get me wrong i’m so grateful for every single amazing person in my life
but i already know you care about me
and i love that u love me
but i’m not okay, and to burden you with something i don’t understand myself is something i can’t do
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 1:41 AM UTC
(this pastiche promulgated many moons ago from those screaming ****** thirsty headlines from the Italian court for justice sans the brutal homicide attributed to this then American college student and her ex-boyfriend). My gut reaction that zero apr guilt linkedin with lonely looking lass, who may very well bear the burden of culpable guilt for the rest of (what this totally tubular unknown guy no war) a fulfilling life.
with the assiduous vigor of a cadre of volunteers
brought sought after fruition of freedom
per the release of imprisoned young (twenty something) American lass
whose former life sentenced commuted to egress from an Italian jail
to her home within Seattle, Washington
whereby family, friends and strangers who fought for her liberation
breathed one palpable surprising sigh of euphoric relief
when the plane who boarded landed safely on the tarmac of SEATAC
aswarm with frenzied television camera crews
scrambled to get the initial scoop and what promises
to land this once anonymous cell bait
an undisclosed amount of lucre
which many on the other side of the pond
find mind boggling if not downright objectionable
moreso livid with rage
against the Machiavellian machine
on account of supposed culpability in tandem with her then boy friend
accused (under the guise of guilty fiat)
sans homicide of college roommate
now sought after garnering this fawning female
(salaciously tagged by Perugian court with the sobriquet “she wolf”
now faces a future replete with riches aplenty
allowing gravity of ugly epithet plus stigma from accusation of ******
to serve as basis for what will no doubt be a best seller
not to mention made for the silver screen blockbuster
with subsequent royal carpet treatment
to compensate for guilty judgment decreed
without tangible evidence nor fair trial to boot!
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 3:44 AM UTC
Et følelses barn
blot et følsomt barn
rækker ud efter lidt kærlighed.
Ingen ord danner kontakt. Kontaktløs.
Egoisten, narcissisten, ved bare bedre, “barn”.!
Rejs dig ej, før alle måltiderne er fortæret.
Tørstig efter lidt opmærksomhed
og småsulten efter lidt varme.
Et følelses skarn
blot et følsomt skarn
bevæger sig ind på utrygge territorier
kun fordi de voksne havde glemt hvordan
“barn" har det.
De vidste bedst, og ved bedre
men de dannede mit sind, følsomt.
Så vrag, og grav i sandkassen, dybe huller dybe.
I var ej børn mens vi var, det er hele problemet.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
I remember when I was young brother
Hanging on the corner
Along with the other
Gangstas like me with a bunch
Of profanity
Who can see me
Floss on the weakest tricks
Hittin my switch enticing multiples chicks
But they can't ride my ****
Cuz I know devils
When they come sound the drum
Take another sip of the Jamaican ***
I wonder why they wanna see me fall ?
But even if I fall
I'll continue 2 lift off where I had my downfall and ball
On sucka muthaphukkaz
Trust my guns quick to burn ya
Til ya ashes turned into dust
Lust after money never cuz I'm too clever
To let any one sever
Me and poetry wither it be
Reality or Fantasy
I'm a breed of many Prodigies
Raw rappin' so y'all know what's happenin'?
Re-Runs of slavery in this modern
Day society quietly
I see them eying me
From a distance fools get hesitant
Once I
Step on the scene empty out my magazine
Now these bullets is ya new cousine
Now you another victim to homicide got me feelin' alright
Check my tactics fool quick with them tools makin ya soul flee
Only to bring out the Gangsta in me
Now these corporate punks
Gotta problem with g funk
But I don't care still puffin my skunk
Another hater tossed in the trunk
Of my sixty four stay ********
Double up fool if ya want more
As sorrows pour
I want peace but my mind screaming war
Like eagles taking soar
Shoot the bird downs
Cuz I ain't a clown
And you wonder why I get around?
Hahaa
N how many brothers got they life drowned? Downed
By a system that never cared about them
Situations kind of grim
So don't ask me why keep the slugs to 45s Next to me
Cuz I ain't going to jail 4 free
I pay the price with my life
N don't give a **** if it comes out nice
Its that raw **** that make critics
Hop like crickets
Can't dodge my licks once the guns click
Now ya soul in serious ****
Body throwing a fit
Soon to be a corpse of course
No remorse to muthaphukkaz
That try to do u
Art of War principles is what I follow
Life's is big pill hard to swallow
Am I wrong for speaking the truth ?
To the young generation ahead of you
But that's ******** and I
Ain't having it
So you tricks can **** my ****
Once the lyrics hit
Ya mind ya can't shake as I make
Perfection out of poverty
Been ballin' since I was 23
Ride with me and I'll ride on yo on enemies
For loyalty
Gangsta in me brings out the Gangsta of You
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
From Dusk til Dawn,
waiting for the ghosts to leave,
and the sun to rise again,
I ache for morning.
Sitting in the Dusk,
nervous of the dark closing in.
Will I make it to the light?
Or wither like a starved flower?
Sitting in the Dusk, I realize
there's no point in patience.
The Dawn can never lift
the darkness clouding my mind.
Sitting in the Dawn,
I patiently waited for the Dusk to leave;
yet it never did, and I realize
I'm so tired.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 5:25 AM UTC
Sleep.
Sleep child,
til' the light overpowers the darkness inside,
where I secretly cried.
I secretly tried,
but no one would guess,
and I never put my cards face up.
It's only ketchup.
Used to patch up,
the cut and scratch ups,
caused by the dull
of my pencil,
and my soul.
I fell,
but I dragged myself up again,
back into my daily skin,
and I'm that burden.
That one whose not fully there,
told by everyone, "you just don't care",
with a random shudder scare.
The words I despise you all think,
even the shrink,
and it drowns me to the sink.
I'm that disaster,
everyone's after,
maniacal laughter.
"Am I losing my mind?"
"Is this mind really mine?"
"Would dying be fine?"
I'm not so refined :)
I can see the things in perfect imagery,
things I don't want to see,
always worried everyone hates me.
I can't see,
I'm not me,
I'm not even a somebody.
Maybe inside is some other ghost,
I'm the host,
at my death let's just have a toast.
Til' death do we part,
take it as a new start,
buy the roses to my grave from walmart.
I didn't think I mattered anyways,
sleeping through these pass-me-by days,
my mind playing simon says.
I always secretly try,
but I am still I,
and now simon says ".....goodbye."
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC