"alienate" poems
**You're a sight for sore eyes
Been blinded by the light
Too many times**
Waves upon waves
Of color changing iconic notions
Fueled up emotions and sad faces
Shadows and shapes shining bright
At the height of the modern age
**A different way to accentuate the names we put inside our minds
Digital rhymes change the journey we travel**
When it unravels, we share, post and tag
A lag and we're lost in the dim lights of what we do next
Shifting through pages of endless faces, words and updates
**Times alienate the importance of touch
Yet the ignorance has a much higher impact
Than the influence of how to overreact**
Observe this society....
Is this how our lives were meant to be,
Staring at phones and computer screens?
**** this technology**, for taking you away from me
Taking moms from children and dads from jobs
Making every other relationship lose trust and feel wrong
**** this technology for what it does to me**
What it does to you, to society.
**** this technology, but don't you dare try to take my phone from me.**
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC
I am an alien..
I do not alienate people.
For they have already gone through the alienation.
I am an alien.
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 5:29 PM UTC
In long lasting fortitude is the fight of the astute.
A lot of effort is made towards the war of the moral.
And a race towards life is the route.
Preparing the endless fit of strength of all.
There is he who is choosing his fate.
Working hard despite all opposers’ bait.
There is he who is choosing life.
Working hard despite all opposers’ strife.
Lost in the dirt, seeking out of the ruse.
Forced towards the light, brighter and rife.
No letting up despite the refuse.
Clean is the proud, and happy, the player of the flute.
A rite of passage for all is the praise of the immortal.
War is the only dispute
Death is not fatal.
The renegade does not enter the gate.
He is stuck outside the city, and left without state.
The renegade does not know his wife.
He is stuck at heart and can’t even play a fife.
In the dirt he is and is with a lot of abuse.
He cannot escape the knife.
Cut, cutting up despite the accuse.
Reality is but the face of cute.
Subjected to falsified doctrine and the immoral.
It is callous and as rotten fruit.
Moxie exists with everyone no matter how small.
Can the one who is happy learn to hate?
Only he or she can solve this debate.
Finally the long absent sky above the Alewife.
Can’t say that I have seen such teeming wildlife...
Swimming in a sea of its Muse.
The lowly continue their sighs
But I do proudly diffuse.
.This plight of mine is hard to toot.
Exemplified by my emphasis on the astral.
With which I dress in an armoured suit.
So my enemies do not mute my oral.
and the skies do tell in high rate,
How esteemed they are on time and ne’er late.
But giving ever virtuous despite
All those dead or dying, without prospect of afterlife.
It is their way to choose:
The dark abyss of guise,
(or) The gentle river of blue
For now I do keep silent, But still I commute,
With those of higher propositions and goal,
So I do instill thyself a deeper root.
In the waterbed truly formal.
Those who truth ‘I do navigate’
and those of lies ‘I do alienate’
At a loss O’ man or mesmerize,
Work harder on thoughts than just plagiarize.
The foes of old are still and sleuth
I show them love and they in lies are baptized
Tradition is there with purpose, don’t misuse.
I see to it the wise stay wise,
For better they will strategize.
And the unwise, wisdom they will pursue.
Giving them their much needed paradise.
And the lost I will use.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:53 AM UTC
True Stories #1
This is the first of what will be a series of little vignettes.
When I was fourteen,
I was the alienate hipster rebel
In a private school hellhole.
Hair long, tie knot never pushed up,
Unbuttoned button-down shirts,
Camus lover,
Siddhartha disciple,
Small acts of disdain,
Expressions of teenage hell-pain.
One day, the principal
Threw me out to get a haircut.
Went to the nearby barbershop,
Which was in the underground,
Subway stop.
Returned to school where It was
Pronounced unacceptable.
Twice more this charade-escapade,
Went on, till the barber cried and would not
Charge me anymore.
Shorn like a lamb,
My mother roared like a lion.
The next day, the man in charge,
Who would marry my second son,
Three decades later,
Called me in and sort-of-apologized.
From that day, I never respected authority,
Only learned to fear tyranny.
See photo of my latest protest!
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 7:40 AM UTC
never in my life,
Or in the span of the last few weeks
have I ever,
and yes I could go even further
felt so starved,
really I mean starved, vexed hunger
for some sort of notion,
reminder of a working heart and lungs
a feeling of substance,
something I search for fruitlessly
in a world that works,
in its subtle enigmatic ways
to alienate,
or provide an artificial basis for it
but that is so very beautiful,
and I think I really mean that
I want it and I want it now
I want the world at my throat
I want women and all
Other embodiments
Of all things beautiful
at either side of me
Adoring eyes, widened and excited
scanning in disbelief
waiting for the dream to end
because a dream so pure and good
will never last
and it doesn't and it won't
because it doesn't exist
to begin with
but a thought so pretty
forever forcing itself into existence
I want my dream to begin
I want these things to be my end
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC
Explosions in the sky
That certain rush of words covered with ideas I am not so afraid of
That simple touch of a pen poets picture as their current heaven
And heaven lies within the lies where real people exist and in-concrete dust flies
And flies surround the inner spaces between my heart and yours
Those inter dimensional cracks that keep us alive together
Yet those same cracks cause the
Explosions in the sky
When a million thoughts tremble under shattered glass
And glass becomes rain over a nation
That had no occupation
A station
Where all the emotions find a leak
Where all the leaks lead to leisure
The flood of blood narrated to form a spring out of Arab's fall
And freedom is attained with the sound of
Explosions in the sky
When betrayal becomes the living scenario of a very normal human being
Who believed that his sanctuary is in unison with his sanctions
Strategies structured his not so subtle approach
And after that he fell into her
Explosions in the sky
When a man loses his vision upon a mild smile
When a cry for help becomes an invite for suicide
Come…help me be the
Portrait of clay you'll form with your delicate hands
Shape my image
And imagine a shape for my form
Form a set for me to follow
Follow my moves for if I fall of your track
Track me back to the first point
The playstation of life saves checkpoints
Yet my life is full of glitches…
For when I look at you
I am supposed to be looking at you
But all I'm seeing is
Explosions in the sky
When a trouble-free man becomes the complex notion of a firework
Those little pieces of fiery smoke
Grabs it
And smokes the last buds of life out of his people
The governor governing the covers he created
To alienate the truth
I found in your eyes
And I shall never be mislead
Instead
I shall be steadfast and ready
For you
I shall be ready for you
And your
Explosions in the sky
When a poet has no words left to write
In the right time
Literally the speaker is speechless
He's too busy wondering in total observation
The explosions…
The explosions we create
The skies that unveil
And that little feeling of satisfaction
With the last bits of an ink written
Poem.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
We can often alienate ourselves from each other
Its very easy to close ourselves off
To shield ourselves from each other
To shield us from ourselves
We carry these shields around our hearts
That keep us safe
Keep us separated from each other
That keeps us from connecting with ourselves
Sometimes we have to be willing to remove our shields
To let people in
To let yourself in sometimes
So that you can really get to the hurt
That you have been shielding people from all along
Until you can get to the point in yourself
Where you can heal yourself
To know and love yourself enough
To be able to be open with others
To share your heart freely without fear
To be able to interact with kindness
Trying to offer yourself wherever you can
It's also good
To be able to make yourself strong
So that way you can deal with the rolls and the punches
That inevitably come with living
But if you shield yourself too much
You can cut yourself off from yourself
But most of all from other people
Becoming distant from people
Not being able to trust anyone
Or even trust yourself
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 2:30 AM UTC
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
Have you forgotten the Bill of Rights?
The 'inalienable' rights we all have?
Do they even ******* matter?
Do they even ******* exist?
I guess not.
What the **** are they doing
pressing this CISPA ********
Unlawful search and seizure of digital information
and they don't even care for warrants.
Under the guise of National Security
you'd have us all put in Camps or killed
just like we did to the Japanese all those years ago
but we've moved past that... right? Right?
I guess not.
We just keep it all more secretive now:
The people didn't stand for SOPA
and surely not for the NDAA
so what the **** gives you the idea
CISPA will fly, anyway?
Maybe if no one heard about it, it would work...
Maybe that's what you were counting on.
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.
The Fourth Amendment requires due process
precluding unjust search and seizure;
but where the **** is due process or justice
in this proposed search at leisure?
You pass new legislation that augments old laws,
so much that they don't even need probable cause,
but not new rights nor protections for the citizenry,
not surprising given your abhorrent deontology:
You'd sooner send drones than diplomats.
You'd sooner stage attacks than be peaceful.
You'd sooner bail out banks than your citizens.
You'd sooner pass a law than change your ******* underwear.
What the **** gives you an inkling of the notion
that a beloved sociopath Politician
deserves your ******* devotion
if they pull this sort of ethical rescission?
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man,
like you already do behind closed doors.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man
for ever trusting this accursed system.
Well, who the **** are you
trusted making legislation,
you can't even overcome
******* monetary gravitation.
Well, excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
you want the People to become transparent?
Well **** you then, Mr. Politician Man
we want transparency of Government:
I'm sick of not knowing where Tax dollars go,
I'm sick of knowing over a quarter goes to the Military
which is funny in a deeply ****** up way
because I know I may help pay for
the drone that might fly overhead and see me and my friends as insurgents
and launch an IR missile to blow us to bits,
or the bullet that may be sent through my brain
as a distant if more probable than ever result
of your ******* legislation:
And so I say:
**** you, Mr. Politician Man,
along with your constituents
for making this a feasibility;
you're supposed to serve the people
but you'd rather put the U.S. in a state of futility.
So,
on behalf of all those you alienate each day,
I wish to extend to you a humble and heartfelt
Go **** yourself.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
Acquiring the libel of critics
Internally at times I bleat
And snarl, brow furrowed
Like an actress when filming a major motion *****
“Originality bid us farewell” screams my advanced intellect
Nothing more than a social outcast who lacks a catalyst
(though thankfully the universe is an object of open ended philosophy)
The voices of such a generation fail to carry notes
Beyond the octave range
Only Canis lupus familiaris feces, in its rejuvenated appearance,
Delivers abstract imagery
What was once honorable has dissolved into media sewage
Virginal darlings now dissolved into marionettes
Shall my poems alienate the public
They shall at least demonstrate bravery
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:53 PM UTC
Decapitate, disembowel, tear and mutilate!
Schizophrenic!Psychedelic twisted mind!
Expedite, liberate, Alienate then recreate
Masonic!Prolific piece of mind!
Sabotage, besiege, flank to infiltrate!
Victorious!Strategic tyrannic mind!
Crucify, liquify, impale bleed them dry!
Torturous!Barbaric, sadistic mind!
Derange, insane, crazy and mental!
Hallucinating!Polysyllabic demented mind!
Disturbed, diabolic, vile and fatal!
Parasitic!Infected infested mind!
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
Thou shall not plagiarize other people's work
The first commandment for a poet
It's a shame that some people do it
While others simply don't know it
A poem doesn't always have to rhyme
The second commandment we must obey
But some people choose not to listen
Regardless of what others might say
A poem can be about anything you want
The third commandment sends some people reeling
They think it can't be a poem at all
Unless it's something to do with our feelings
Thou shall not criticize others unjustly
The fourth commandment we must adhere
They don't need their creation destroyed
It's constructive critisim they want to here
A poem can be any length you choose
The fifth commandment we all must follow
For if they were all made the same
It would surely be hollow
The vocabulary is strictly up to the poet
The sixth commandment is the poet's choice
He alone can decide the words to use
That will best give him his voice
Inspiration can come from anywhere we like
The seventh commandment we all hold true
Everyone has their writer's block moments
So whatever helps us get through
The poet can write any form they want
The eighth commandment is a must
The poet knows the style they like best
And their choices we're obliged to trust
Poetry is all a matter of taste
The ninth commandment is just like the rest
The reader must choose what's dear to his heart
And the poems that he likes the best
Never alienate your readers
The tenth commandment speaks for itself
Cause if you act like you're better than them
Your books will stay on the shelf
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 6:42 PM UTC
Love is stupid,
love is blind,
it is selfish,
jealous
and unkind.
Love is abusive,
love can hurt
it will scratch,
and pound
into the dirt.
Love will snub you,
call you dumb,
and alienate you
from everyone.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 3:25 PM UTC
Running amok whilst standing in place
When we pretend to strive for something, we actually slow our pace.
Defiantly we try to resist our fate
Defiantly we deny true happiness
What is it that drives us to this?
Fear
Nobody wants to alienate themselves from their best friends
Even knowing they won’t judge
We are afraid that, on some level, they will
Why do we fear the judgment of man more than the judgment of God?
Lack of faith
This is what I lack most in life
This is what I seek in life
But I’m afraid.
I’m afraid.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:13 AM UTC
#The quill's sodden ink evaporates
while this bell jar encapsulates
leaving these dreary words to permeate
only to rain back down and stagnate
this terrarium, my lonely estate
pickling eyes that spate
people peer through the glass only to deprecate
while I slowly start to acclimate
two horizons squint until light dissipates
allowing the darkness to overtake
monsters crawl out to dilapidate
snarls and growls devastate
this is fate this is fate this is fate this is fate
is it too late is it too late is it too late is it too late
echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate
this is fate and it is too late these echos verberate and I ruminate
I ruminate and ruminate and ruminate and ruminate
with a languid gait
a countenance set straight
while I desperately try to create
a happy blissful sunny green free state
it's not too late it's not too late it's not too late
meditate meditate meditate meditate
don't let the glass alienate
pick up the hammer and swing
till the glass ***B E K
R A S.***#
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 10:09 AM UTC
**Ugh
Not again
You have that pensive look
the slurred algebraic expression
that algorithmic stench
Molten into confusing matrix
Geometrically weirdly shaped**
*Please shut up
I can't take it anymore
Your meagerly written poems
the frustrating metaphors
baked with suffocating syllables
dude, what the heck is a pensive look*
**There's a huge probability it won't
delve out any logical statistics.
the equations alone will alienate you
the calculus involved is far ahead of your time
just stick with trigonometric thoughts
C'mon you already know the plane of your thighs are sophisticated**
*is that a compliment
Painting splendid imagery
that nobody else understands
a poet lurking in words
always writing
Unfiltered intricately worded poems*
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 2:27 AM UTC
I think the reason why we live is because of death. We fear death, we fear the unknown. One could even dare say the unknown is the future. It's the reason why we cling onto the past so much, we fear the unknown the most. I believe without a doubt that reincarnation happens and some could say that people's souls grow older and wiser. Yet why do people commit suicide? One could say that they are new souls, new creations of life. However as I think about it more and more, could it possibly be because the soul is starting to realize that life is too unpredictable and too unbearable? Maybe those who commit suicide are the souls who are actually a little mature. Maybe the reason why some people look forward to the future is because they are actually new souls. Then there is those who are wise beyond their years and still look forward to the future. Perhaps souls that grow too old become energy and become recreated into new souls to continue on. Perhaps the evil people with souls are being cleansed to create a new start. Perhaps that's the reason why sociopaths exist. Maybe they're just old souls who have seen many lives and are starting to lose the vitality it once had. Perhaps they are in the process of getting their souls cleansed from all they have done after they have been punished. The real reason why we would seek immortality is because we fear death. However I believe that even after we erase the fear of death, we will end up growing a new fear. Fear is inevitable. We will end up growing to fear love. Sounds funny, why would we fear love? If you're immortal, you will start to see the beauty of life and death. You will watch the people you grew up with, you laughed with, you work with, you care about, and you loved die. You will start pushing away all of them, everyone for fear of getting close. If you're immortal, that doesn't mean that you don't have a heart. Your fear of death is nothing like the fear of love. Unlike the fear of death, you will be alone if you fear love. The fear of death only makes bonds between those who also fear death. However to fear love will cause you to alienate yourself from the people around you. A soul cannot live on it's own. It will only disintegrate and get it's soul ripped inside and out. We must have death in order to live. Because life without death is miserable and lonely.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC
Our differences do divide us,
They keep us parallel.
Apart.
Our differences don't alienate us,
They keep us unique.
Unparalleled.
There are differences between us,
They maintain our unity, and affection.
Perpendicular.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 7:37 AM UTC
Catatonic expressions
On a
Schizophrenic adolescent
Bipolar bearings
Helping ‘em stand
On both sides
Of the argument
Arduous Amore
The Mental Asylum
Silences me
If I speak
I’ll show how weak
My will
To not spill
Crazy thoughts
Is
I remain thoughtless
My conclusion
Signifies delusion
I hypothesize
My hyperactivity Is a hyperbole
Constructed
By psychotic psychiatry
Sigmund Freud
Prescribed *******
And left
The remains
Of white dust
On the brains
That trust
Like the kid
With ADD
Who adds pills
To feel
Emotionless
If too much emotion is
Not a enough
To be a human
I’ll alienate
Myself from
You men
Few men
Understand
The acumen of Wisdom
They fear
What they don’t know
I’m unknown
Anonymous
Synonymous
With the Question Mark
Who am I?
This question marks
The beginning
Of most journeys
Mine began
With
I know who I am,
But how can I show it?
I became
An open book
That was over looked
By the minds
I tried to reach
Read
As comic relief
For
The Intellectually Elite
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 4:26 PM UTC
sometimes i drink tea as a substitute for your hugs
almost desperately sipping,
wishing, hoping,
dreaming of you (holding onto my ceramic cup so delicate)
sometimes loneliness creeps in like a stealth burglar
when you realize what it is you freeze,
suddenly too aware of yourself
but pretending it doesn't exist to cushion yourself from
these ugly emotions
who, like old fake friends whom i try to alienate,
i hide from, trying to mask myself by emulating
everything i love
in the hopes of becoming something beautiful,
something you might love.
(pour myself another cup,
dream on)
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
tired autonomies, days keep on flailin', seizin'; darlin', I'd
be bolder if only I'd tried. makin' plans to abandon 'em,
the dark reach and tenements of those towers of regret for
all of my inactivity or self-targeted hostility, and those dreams
meant everything to me until awakening into morning hours
or afternoon, more likely, with the dull grip of uncertainty
shudderin' all the windowpanes back and forth lightly, oh
so **** delicately, and I think about you as soon as I've
drawn up ambition to make any kind of move, the pieces of
the vast puzzle I've called your mind for the better part of
the calendar dates I've drawn up into fifteen gauge shells of
the ghosts of my past, those that follow my footprints in evenings,
the pools of aluminium meltings and lemon extractions
to constrict the summer hours, convictions that bleach out
all other chances of hope.
so relinquish your grip on my red and unfolding heart I've
been beating the syllables of your name with, and abusing
the page width of headspace, serving only to alienate the
froth on the shoreline of daring chances: I'd have given
my all at the sight of romance, but I sit here with no
glimpse of intention from you; the crestfalls I subject myself
to, not for the sake of lack of want, but full lack of what
I'd do if I called and asked where you wanted to go at
three a.m. or five p.m., or any other canonical time of
the day; I'd spend any of 'em with you, and I'd
ask, but I'm somewhat sure you're not that into whatever I
could mean, or whatever my words do seem to transcribe themselves
upon contact with your mind, so keep on existing and I
will do the same.
[or, anyway, at least I'll try]
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC
I never wanted to wither
I never wanted to fade
I never wanted to lose my light
I never wanted to create a mess
So I decided not to bloom
I decided not to feel
I stayed in the dark
which complemented my light perfectly
I never meant to fly
I liked the solid concrete I was standing on
in the darkness, with no way to distinguish myself from my shadow
- I felt satisfied.
But you came around;
your light a lot brighter than me
you dazzled me by your brilliance
and showed me there was another way to be
Your words pulled me out-
one step at a time
your light kept me blinded enough
to keep me from seeing where i was going
Slowly and slowly
you took down all the walls
i had put up
to let my spark in
Together we burnt
bright enough to light our own little galaxy
somewhere along the line
i started losing myself in you
Like a star twinkling in noon
like a drop goes unnoticed when it falls in sea.
We talked about our future
you told me about the place you came from
And we planned how the walls of our home will be decorated w my poems, how you'll sing me to sleep
and make the wind jealous
But like every sweet dream that ends too soon
the bitter reality came crashing in
and the storm took away my light
you somehow managed to keep yours still aflame
Right after the storm had passed
you promised
your light will be enough
to keep us from drifting apart
But in the middle of our laughter
your mind would go to the place
you had come from
and it was then when i started losing you
The more i tried to hold on to you
the more burnt i got
i was so scared to lose you
that i realised one day i will
I could never be a part of your world
but i no longer wanted to alienate you from it
so i withdrew back to the darkness
i had always known
but this time with no spark to help me coexist w it
i felt myself getting swallowed
with my last breath
i wished you nothing but happiness
*I never meant to witter
I never meant to fade
I never wanted to lose my light
but i admit i made a mess*
**your love ****** me
more than You'll know
but no sweeter damnation
I could have ever got**
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
When I start to bleed
It opens my eyes so I can see
That under my demonic feeding
I'm still a human being
And from the depths of hell i was retreating
This curse upon me I was beating
Staying sober I am succeeding
Being alive I am breathing
While most people talk about there lives
I stare at my knives
And think am I alive?
Because I'm so desensitized
To other people's demise
That when I take there life
I think that they'll be fine
Because this world is filled with so much ****
That I look around thinking
This is it?
This is the world I'm forced to live on?
Feeling more like an alien then a ******* Klingon
And through my struggle
I persist to carry on
Even though I'm ready to explode like a ******* A bomb
So i write my soul down on this song
Wondering if the world will song along
Or pass me on
Because I've pushed through more **** then I'll ever admit
Because if you hear my story you'll never see me the same
Because unfortunately your all programmed with the same human brain
Which makes you alienate anyone who you don't think is sain
And you'll look at me like a monster that needs to be slain
So I sit silent in my eternal rain
Because the memories carved in my heart are so terrifying
That the person I was sits in the corner crying
I'm a new person
A ***** shell if you will
Carrying around demons and doing there every will
I'm a monster at heart
And a demon at soul
And my story children
Is the most horrific ever told
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
Nuclear family just doesn't stick this old fashioned way has had its day.. Men without jobs, women holding the fort Feminism what a wrought! Children wondering where their parents are whispering are we from Venus or are we from Mars ?
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
she folds herself into the chair
and carefully takes her purse apart
its ten thousand pieces form fit into neat piles of
randomness on the kitchen table
she places a picture of her old lover on my forehead
a drawing of a photographic rendering
its open face page stares down at me blankly
and rants slowly in dead languages
of its oblique view of the universe from perspective of a blind beggar
with his relief at being free of handbag confines
the grieving young widow wearing her wedding dress
runs into the vestibule and assaults the coat rack
trying to find her husbands face hidden in the pockets
after all the cheating ******* always getting head from every floozie
left traces of himself all over all kinds of women
if lips could get pregnant he'd have a million children
she unwraps a notepad from her covered perch
and scrawls letters to famous dead figures of history as
she lurks in the coffee houses seeking poetic romances
she hangs round women's bathrooms for ***
there are large cracks in her family portrait
and she fills them with silly-putty and bubble gum
the widow is now running thru the wood
naked as a jaybird
she carries her wedding dress in a demon infested box
and she screams things to alienate them from any ideas of escaping
she would rather bear their burden than loose them on the world
she is a **********
and i adore her
and everything about her
i would do anything to help and protect her
i am in love with her too
if you knew her you would love her
she is a wonderful person
nobody else can manufacture a entire universe from a homeless bag lunch
build a castle with its knights in shinning armor out of cigarette packs
find something dumpster diving and walk across town to give it to someone
that would give it a good home
remarkable people like her are always close to my heart
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
On to the next
Before I have finished the first
Forgetting who?
Forgetting me?
A hunger or thirst
To finish third, second or first
A race against time
With the zone of my mind
Like ironing shirts
And each crease gets worse
Finding time for each urge
Defining what hurts.
Asking, how should I think?
Hurting who?
Hurting me?
A marathon and sprint
If I am only racing myself, how would I win?
A superpower and curse
You can never comes first
Though, you can never come last
Only move from your past
Tie your laces so fast
That the shadow you cast
Is the only version you craft
Casting who?
Crafting me?
In all that I see,
It will not alienate me
Finding my path
With ADHD.
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 12:13 PM UTC