#youve
it's all catching up to me
everything i've been running from;
oh god
you're here
you're back
Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 11:00 AM UTC
Fresh from Elementary classes
in the Urban Ghetto Comprehensives
the zero minded ragamuffins and one parent urchins
stuttered they were playing mind games and NLP manipulations
I asked the pathetic witless simpletons to explain all about it to me
" that's silly "
they replied,
"how are we supposed to know, when we have no minds of our own
we just do as they tell us,
we are never taught to use our minds
just another brick in the wall....."
That's the way its always been......!!!
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 9:07 PM UTC
for you, of you: you’ve been between my ears
close enough to being on my mind,
almost the same thing,
though that’s unfairly inequitable, we both agree,
for when in an ear one opines, too oft it escapes
out the other side, only a tree ring mark left,
someone was here, present
as for the Confucius confusion in
ok, who’s writing this poem to whom,
cause it’s never clear between us
who is
asking the questions,
since the answers come
demanded and undemanding,
fomenting newer questions and follow through,
before, as well as,
‘please sir, may I have some more?’
the mutualizing game tasking begin-began-begun,
for this, our lovely crazy teasing of our-thing, ago began,
don’t recall who or how intimated-initiated
this oil drilling exploration,
who is the annointer and who is the annointed,
who seeds the plants, picks the fruit, and who
gets paid with cloves of poems, by the bushel
you say I’ve been on your mind,
which we now have both pointed out
is somewhat extraordinary since,
the sight lines are drawn through
long distance cloudscapes that travel
through underground cables,
making everything said,
fallow and rich-ending, deeply frustrating,
impossible to see the outcome
clouds usually imaginary, (not like now),
making visibility normative poor,
unlike the real ones I’m flying at the moment through,
ensconced in front row seat 1F, heading northwest passage,
passing by so ridiculously close to where
you are minding the soil,
as I am
mining your soul’s soil, tilling it between the ears,
of you, by me, for us, and the excited sadness
makes me happy and yes, inequitably, again,
hopping-mad
because your breadcrumbs and dark Swiss chocolate bars are
scattered and defaced, bitten and chewed, lovingly licked melting,
we who cover our tracks too well;
but what I do have, makes me ravenous,
having read all your poems,
in random order and then one more time,
sequentially
I see your history, near escapes and resurrections,
in fine grained moody minutiae punctuated by huge gaps in between,
that we must cream fill with clouds of wondrous loving curiosity,
a torture so exquisite, only the gods could have invented it like
Sunday Night Football,
and crazy sayings,
like I love you too...
been on my mind and I imagine you
hot and sweaty,
bent over, aching tired, from
picking weeds (gotcha),
when sudden one of us stands up straight, back aching,
screaming out loud
this is crazy, and follows up with
a *** Darius type proclamation,
who’s writing this poem to whom
issued to the upwards-skywards,
but addressed to ourselves,
the poets
as we search clouds by the thousands,
is that you in that cloud, in that poem,
I look down thinking that, that must be,
the plot of green and dusted light brown ground
where she has gone into hidey-hole hiding,
disappearing for months at a time,
before arising for the sticking of me
in the sticking place,
wounding me fresh with brand new poems
scandalous and imaginous,
and our imaginations are both
too skilled
so here I close, overwritten, overridden, too long,
overshot my imaginary bounds, so one
pulls down the shade over the oval window
through which too many great stories have commenced,
and ended
the thick cumulus shouting
as we look up
as we look down,
saying “enough, you crazy people,
your poems tell too much,”
perhaps, find me in that
next bite of herbs buttered,
and then ask (of course)
who’s writing this poem to whom?
then breathe out, exhaling me a
breath-poem up above, to where I’m hiding
just as I, am sending one to you,
earth falling from thirty thousand feet,
coming to rest on your mind,
in between your ears,
friend
<>
8-6-19
somewhere in the sky, clueless, heading north by northwest
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 8:13 PM UTC
I want to smother you
with my pillow hands
suffocate your skin
Scoop out your eyes
so you see no evil
blind you from all sin
I'll wrap you in chains
secured to my heart
control your brain
take away your dark
Twist your words
around my tongue
scratch them back
in your back
verbatim
I could cut you up
so you fit in my pocket
bleed your soul
into a precious locket
Smash your skull
to ease your mind
clawing my way
to your insides
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 9:11 PM UTC
When you are at a swimming pool, and you see a dog, you know that it will be pushed into the pool by a cat.
then it is frowning, like grumpy cat
and humans are laughing
and it goes on youtube
and you've been framed
here comes the dosh £$€
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 5:00 AM UTC
dear future self,
i hope you've finally learned to put yourself before other
that everyone isn't who they seem to be
and never to fall so hard for someone who'd never love you
i hope you learned that you don't need people who don't need you
to love yourself
and that you're important
i hope in the future you are the best you possible
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
It’s the sadness in your eyes that darkens your heart
you were like a piece of art
your white pale skin carried no marks nor wounds
your silky hair and royal navy eyes appeared to be so alluring your suspected you were undesirable
but you were terribly mistaken..
Sunflower
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
Bring in the storm;
I have stood in the middle of the worst.
Bring in the thunder;
I have slept peacefully through the loudest.
Bring in the flood;
I have walked in many. It's nothing.
Bring it in.
Bring it on.
You think I'll scamper and fall?
Bring it in. Bring it all in.
I'll face it head on.
Bring it on if all you can do is shoot.
*I tell you. I never fall. *
I bend your bullets with my thumb.
Bring it on if that's all you have.
You do make me stronger.
Is that all you have?
Is that?
Bring it on.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
Telephones.
Earphones.
Earplugs.
To drown out
Baby cries.
Engines exhaling.
Anxiety.
"Don't be afraid"
"You've done this before"
"He knows what he's doing"
The tired.
The disagreeable.
The impossibly experienced.
Tickets.
Bags.
Smile-free faces.
I'm ready.
You're ready.
Let's go already.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
He bit the curb.
Does that make you disturbed?
She laughed at tears.
Does that deepen your fears?
They don't know when to stop.
There's no stop signs in this town.
If it's you, life's sad.
But if it's them they shouldn't make a sound.
Some don't fit in,
and they just can't help it,
no matter where they been.
I guess no one really developed it.
Whom I kiddin?
Some people are fake,
on the outside their only,
the character they make.
"Who wants to run like me?
Who wants to get away?
I look around,
but they all seem A-okay."
Well if he judged you,
He'd seem to be just fine.
But you'd never guess,
He's scared of being left behind.
If she beat you and spit in your face,
you'd figure she was spoiled,
but her life was just so misplaced.
Why do they have to smile?
Why do they have to drown?
Why do they have to go away,
after smashing into cold, hard ground?
I'd say you need a lesson,
but you've probably had one too.
Stop being arrogant,
if there's one thing that you do.
They've seen the grey clouds,
and you've seen the rain.
And surprisingly we've all gone insane.
So why drive us mad?
Why call us bad?
Make us sad?
What have I done?
Nothing,
but yet I'm being pushed.
Off my feet, off the swings, off the air, off the edge.
By you, by them, by me, by life?
I'm going to stand here,
and proclaim to the skies.
"For once, let this life be mine!"
"And please vanish the outer lies!"
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
If you give a wishing stone,
she'll travel out all on her own.
She'll leave behind the fear and pain,
and keep herself from going insane.
While her friends are getting diagnosed,
she'll be somewhere in her boat.
Maybe she'll have tea for two,
but at least she'll know what to do.
And they may ask, and plead, and beg to be in her world,
but she'll certainly say,
"Be gone, be gone, or off with your head."
Which should be said, since they cursed her be dead.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
she'll truly feel all alone,
and for those who never cared "be gone!"
The queen has finally sang her song.
She was never a fool, just a withered small bud,
and those pigs would throw her around in the mud.
So sure she dreams and dazes off,
but she can do whatever she wants.
She earned a bit of recognition,
for all antagonize and inhibition.
Give that girl some cheer,
she fought a war for all those years.
Stop the hate for her being crushed,
unlike some, she had no love!
The glass shattered hard,
it's no surprised it became shards.
Giving time and yells,
doesn't heal, it kills.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
you've given her one happiness finally of her own.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
I just want someone to care.
To notice, when I'm not there.
To stay by my side.
To let me cry.
I don't want to be judged.
I just want to be loved.
I don't care how far,
I don't care if you've receded,
I just want to know
that I am needed.
It's not creepy.
Certainly not.
It's just odd,
to read what's been thought.
I love the imaginary,
who exists.
I love the birds,
and bees.
I love the sky,
and seas.
I'm waiting.
I'm watching.
Watching the world.
Thinking about it,
I've come to notice.
You help me even now.
Because I don't know who you are,
I spend so much time thinking,
wondering,
contemplating elatedly,
to the point I don't even think,
about..
the world anymore.
All I care about it this beautiful,
wondrous,
ponderous,
distraction of mine.
And this image in my mind,
it may not be you,
but I may know some day.
This love is true.
This love is so much.
I don't even know what to do.
This love of mine,
I await.
I will wait.
I'm waiting.
I'm watching.
Watching the world.
The world will pass me by,
and in the end..
I will have you,
and hold your hand.
The collected dust,
will tell a story.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC