I saw my dad order one
Then the next
Then the next
Until it became five beers
His words started to slur
His voice was alarmingly loud
His confidence was breaming
And deep secrets revealed
This never use to worry me
After him and my mom divorced
I knew there was no one to drive him home.

Time that is the enemy of purpose,
    Breathing birthing nothing but burden of ageing,
Wasting the time, in shortage, which one regrets
  when wrinkled and disabled,
      Waiting for Grim to release from illness.
Alas, if sleep is the cousin of death,
  This is dying and seeing death coming.

Innocence clothes me
The sin strips me
And I allow it
So my friends respect me.

Delicate feather very light.
You were swept,
By the tall waves.
A dove settles,
Yes, I stayed with you.
This togetherness,
The love,
Too heavy,
As we sink into the Indian Ocean.
Drowning but too afraid
to leave one another,
I thought.
Until you make me slip.
You raise above the sea, safe
And you leave me to drown.

Standing outside in the winter freezing breeze
Multi layered
But I’ll be cold
Inwards and outs

Lay in the big fridge, last fridge ever
Naked
And I’ll not feel a thing

God makes beautiful women
Then the devil uses them

Ready my therapist, ready the tissues
Suicidal jargon and self harm, tenth issue
My tears, the alien plants to my fragile
sanctuary, ******* all the water and smiles,
Are changing to healthy oak trees,
Odd, in Blue Season, trees shrink to weeds,
The rain queen has become a frivolous giver,
And I remember how the cactus use to quiver
because Blue Season meant the Sun’s burning rays,
Well, the cactus isn’t **** anymore! Back to wearing his spiky clothes always.
Industrial air to countryside,
My fauna and flora haven’t died,
Actually they have multiplied,
The poachers, the self harm, hasn’t ambushed,
No, no! They have been seen about
But they’re less and success is a doubt.

Momentary depression, the lethal poison to
my sanctuary, wreckage seems to be subdued.

You should of known
That I could do more with my breath
   than sing Funeral hymns
I could of told you a joke
Give you chats lasting throughout the night
Comfort you when you needed
      Someone the most
I could of shown all things before you took
     That last burdened breath.
  The grim, wooden human box
Tells me you have taken all your breaths
  I conclude, I’ll sing this Funeral hymn
        Like it’s the last breath I’ll ever take.

Keep telling me that I’m your oxygen,
While you don’t believe I’m a cancer,
I sometimes wish I didn’t know you,
So you can sip on someone’s sweet oxygen,
And I remain a cancer.

Keep consoling me that I’m a good cancer,
A cancer that cures cancer,
I tell you that you are my oxygen,
But I reject inhaling you like a lung cancer,
Or deny your existence like an odd brain cancer.

Keep trying me, over and over, but you’ll tire,
And accept that you’re sweet oxygen,
And I’m a deadly cancer,
The process of acceptance is painful for us both,
Ironically, like a cancer.

In the shade of my freshly grown *******
the protection from the rays of the camera flash
doesn't decrease the heat, it intensifies it, at best
And the flood of sweat drowns my skin in a flash

The contours of my ***** create a valley
A bigger valley he wants as he demands I stretch
my ****. They don't after I repeatedly rally
them. “I can't!” He slaps me. My face etch.

More pictures, he wants, of me playing
with my *******. My ******, the tiny rubbery
pips sieve thought my small fingers, surveying
my hand. As the man captures this awkward discovery.

Packs the camera and gives the money, my fee
Then he grabs and hisses to me to tell nobody

I should send clichés or lovely silly texts,
And what would Her respond withhold,
A laughing emoji and painful nothing next,
Wow! It gotta be the cliché (to over told),
Or Her didn’t notice the most unsexy flirt,
So hard having the digits of your crush.

Hustle one or two hands to do a phone call,
I’ll do anything, way before got Her notice,
Whatever, calls are unpredictable,
Hint I’m cute, funny, depressing or banal,
Hope She isn’t busy, sleepy, just not right now,
But not answering and I crying until heaven come down,
So hard having the digits of your crush.

Settle, like pics, sending love arrows through socials,
But seem like a creep; having nothing on my profile,
If we’re dating, my page overload with pics of Her,
Go old school, sorry, meant Facebook but it’s lame,

After I did everything then She says,
“I just don’t like you.”

“Mom! I’m always on my phone
‘cause I’m waiting for a text”
But she didn’t respond to the text
That I love her.

Remember their works of art,
Yes, then how many of the Hello Poetry artists
Liked, favorite, reposted,
Some very nice poets supported with suns,
I read their last poem in many years,
And I wonder...
What happened after their last poem?
Did they stop publishing publicly?
Completely stop writing poetry?
And why so...
They became too ill to continue?
Did they die?
Accident, sickness or suicide?
When they’re writing was it a call for help!?

There are many unanswered questions
However I’m going to keep writing
Until I became a dead poet.

Seeing shadows of love
As the love sacrilege endures

Until death do us part-
The blaspheme!

Not sadden but an empty heart
Seeing love on it’s deathbed.

I’m Libra
The constellation scream you and I
Unless the universe tells lies
I’ll like to get to know you
As a friend or special friend, through
You’re zenith and nadir times

We could be star crossed lovers

I don’t need to care
How do you feel
So if you’re mad and ****
Doesn’t affect me
Sort yourself
Because you need to sort me
You better do it good
Today it’s you
And tomorrow someone else
To me you’re a toy; I’m a rich kid
Play, then throw you out
You yell, “ *******!”
Doesn’t matter, I got choices
Don’t need to care
Cry a little
See my smile shine
Devilish but so carefree
Like an emotional brat.

As the only sun
The world must run
Circles around me
As the hidden victim
As the blatant victor
I deserve all cherishes, a god,
I deserve a paddle stole, a crown,
Everything at it’s utter best
And more love than the average rest
For compensation for unique pains
Little-old me has to religiously face
So everyone
Bow down your heads and get on your knees
Understand, you need to worship me.

The sun will rise everyday,
Then will decent at sunset everyday,
The air will fill and empty your lungs
Every second and every minute everyday,
Hundreds of people die everyday,
But there’s thousands of births everyday,
Your history grows with every passing day,
And your future grows smaller everyday,
You must open your gift, the present, everyday
Even if it’s unpleasant or the best thing ever,
You must accept this gift everyday
And everyday and everyday and everyday,

Then comes that one day,
You see the sunrise and the sunset
And feel the air pass through your lungs
On that day you can touch the happy
Ambience of new live, the last time, and hear
The stories of your yesterday and listen
To the hopes for an innocent infant’s life,
On that day your hopes are pipe dreams
Cause today there’s no more tomorrow
Sadly, you join the fact of everyday
Then when you enter the door of sorrow
Inside the house the beds are cold coffins
And your everyday become yesterday.

I’ll be exampling what happen
I’ll tell until I figure out when
Or understand the between of here and where
Or until I know what you’re actually asking?
I’ll be exampling what happen
Until I remember what happen, then.

It’s not failure if I didn’t do,
Nor is it an achievement,
I’m chez soul-crushing drown,
And a self loathing high,
Due its not a F but N/A,
Or cut my nose to spite my face,
So never lived,
However, have I ever died?

Cried as lovers took your hand,
Laughed when they broke your heart,
I care, maybe will forever do,
How could I believe I’m the one,
For I can’t get the asking done,
Time reminds me this isn’t a movie,
Missed chances only return in another cat,
Allergies but loneliness is vaccination,
Self inflicted entropy.

Too querulous in my self caused quagmire,
Talk I’m the most unfortunate man
To set a foot on Mother Earth,
Its me, myself and I feeling hells flames
already,
Social phobia and agoraphobia?
No, phobia of feeling real, healthy love.

Not trying is also attempting suicide,
Its a F even if it was never written,
A Zenith’s sacrilege to act like Nadir.

Today, the turnaround time is here!
I’m running, swimming,
cycling or flying back,
My love is more sinewy,
than my post-mortem,
‘Cause if failure has to transfigure me,
Then rejection be my
Coup de grace making chef-d’oeuvre.

To drop the call
Forgot
I’m still there
On the other side of the line
Forgot
I’m still here
And I love you
Forgot
Why did u forget?
To keep the safety on
Or was it intentional

After the sugar-high
Maturity overcomes childish whims
Staying somewhere in nowhere
Is regret-bound, it’s time to quit the foolishness
To exit the game
The fun is over.

Granny pointed to the lesbian couple.
Saying the girl who wore the suit is the man,
The other wore a wedding dress is the woman.
I was truly offended!
Until I ask Granny reasons,
I understood her intention wasn’t to harm.
She understands LGBTQ through her norms
and heterosexual eyes.
What could of happened?
If she had tolerance for LGBTQ but we didn’t have tolerance towards Granny.

Viral video of white Granny saying very homophobia statements avoided 😅

BLACK SCHOOL SHOES

shiny or with dirt
black school shoes on that young corpse
Travels in hoarse

I would of handed you a rose
With beauty catching all eyes,
Energy that gives the term energy new meaning
Yet you have given the effigy
Of the former bright glow of your heart
First preference
And my rose would be better purpose
For someone else

A poem to myself

To the girl I always think about
To the girl who makes me laugh
To the girl that I wanna kiss
Me and you would me be perfect
Just

If we weren’t friends.