"attacking" poems
Deforestation, dying of the trees;
Evilness approaching;
Forest, the home of the animals;
Owned by the animals;
Ruined by humans;
Ever lasting the destruction is;
Side effect of the deforestation is destruction;
Trees, getting cut by the humans;
Attacking the forest by cutting it;
The homes of the animals are destroyed;
If we don’t stop we will destroy the nature;
Otherwise, humans will die;
No one can change the past if we don’t.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
Friendship
Friendship is not a jewel or a coin or a gift
Jewels and coins and gifts don’t die
Friendship is not a flower or blown glass;
Friendship is not fragile
Friendship is not a poem or a melody
Because friendship cannot be forgotten
Friendship is a symphony
With grand overtures
Melodic harmonies
and unforgettable phrases
punctuated
by
Attacking staccatos
Vibrant arpeggios
then peaceful interludes
And sometimes
rests
Followed by thoughtful segues
All held together by a coherent structure
called
Respect
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 8:55 PM UTC
"Tomorrow's Swan"
beautiful and proud
reflecting on nights water
is tomorrow's swan
"Motionless"
Gently flowing
the liquid mirrored quiet
motionless I cry
"Beautiful Swan"
a beautiful swan
the river makes no sound
in a timeless space
"Her Wings"
whistles of her wings
slicing through the cool waves
stillness of the swan
"Swan Attack"
I watch from the shore
her struggle to stay afloat
an attacking swan
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
There's a yellow green gas,
You can't see in your glass.
Sometimes you can tell,
It's there by the smell.
It does a great job removing bacteria,
Like Diphtheria,
Or even Listeria.
But what do you think,
Happens to the chlorine in your drink?
I don't want to alarm,
But there's a chance it might harm.
It protects at a price,
Attacking our bacteria that are nice,
And I'm sure it excels,
At killing your own cells,
Forcing new ones to grow,
When a mistake could cause woe.
Some studies have found it an enhancer,
Of bladder and bowel cancer.
Whether old or young,
Do you want it in your lung?
You have the power,
To remove it from your shower.
It's rather grim,
To have to breathe it when you swim.
You're more likely to wheeze,
Or sneeze.
Do you think it will please,
Your inflammatory bowel disease?
Perhaps it's the key,
To why there's Crohns and UC.
Do you think that your skin,
Might become a little thin,
And be filled with dread,
As it starts to turn red.
Can you not feel,
How it's harder to heal?
It makes our tissues grow old,
From what I've been told.
Our cells can only divide,
A few times before they're stupified.
With asthma and chlorine on a map,
You can see they overlap.
Sadly in the West,
Not everyone has guessed,
That there may be a link,
With the gas in our drink.
“But!”, I hear you cry,
“Without it people will die.”
Let go of your dread,
We can use something instead.
The answer is well known,
It's called 'ozone'.
Made from pure water,
It's gone when it reaches my daughter,
Unlike chlorine it's life is brief,
What a relief.
There's many a city,
That make it with electricity,
Splitting water into hydrogen,
And best of all, oxygen!
For ozone is made from O2,
Yes, it's true!
Imagine if you had,
Water with nothing they add.
Already there's Paris and Nice in France,
Where people can dance.
San Diego and Los Angeles in the USA,
Have water that's ok.
And Osaka in Japan,
Now use this plan.
But you don't have to be rich,
To make the switch.
Ask a clever committee,
To stop chlorine in your city.
See if you can arrange,
To have your water change.
I hear you shout,
“Can 'I' get this chlorine out?”
If you leave water in a jug overnight,
What's left will be slight.
Boiling will send it away in the air,
So there's no need to despair.
You can also remove it with a filter,
Or a water distiller.
To learn more have a look,
At 'Question Chlorine' on facebook.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Nobody marching toward us
Their guns making us die.
No tanks are come clanking
No bombers in the sky.
But our Congress and generals
When oil or bases seem needed;
We appear armed and threatening
Peace and love talk not heeded.
No country has attacked us
With troops and lethal artillery.
But our leaders expect us to
Go open up their arteries
And **** their women and children
And laugh while they all die
And we are expected to do this
And never think to ask why.
It’s almost like big companies
Were sad when WW2 ended
So they started attacking countries
We really should have befriended.
We let Russia have free reign
To **** and ****** and steal
Almost as if their aggression
Wasn’t really true or even real.
We looked around and made them,
Those evil old warlike excuses,
That some country threatened freedom
And we pretended they weren’t ruses.
We attacked Korea and Vietnam
We were just supposed to observe
That they were yellow people there
And think they got what they deserved.
We didn’t stop there, as Reagan took
A duly elected leader and put him in jail.
If any country did that to our country
The conservatives would howl and rail.
Then the Bushes tried their best to take
Iraq to steal their oil and punish them
And created an era of stronger hatred
And anti-American outrage and mayhem.
No foreign country has attacked America;
So, the point bears repeating once again.
We need to stop acting like bullies here
And start acting like decent statesmen
And women who have the bigger picture;
The growth of peace in our battered world
So, other countries will not take their guns
And shoot our flag when it’s unfurled.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 4:56 PM UTC
A haunting stare with a serious note
Originates in a lad just thirteen
Ready to command or to set to task
Obedient, mature, and quick to rule
More comfortable with adults than peers
An old soul has he, loves cars from the past
Collects Civil War relics and antiques
Spends most his time reading and researching
Reads historical fiction, lost in time
Analyzes plants, insects, and ol' coins
He could be described like Chaucer's Cleric
"And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach."
He desires, especially, silver
Yet, gold and ex-presidents faces too
Protects younger members of his small clan
Only his hand will be attacking foe
It might be his fine grades, his quirk or two
That humbles his parents. Proudly they stand
And admire their first born miracle
A babe no more, his age will meet his soul.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.
Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the
Construction site.
*I wanna work like this when
I grow up,* he says in
Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach
And kneel down in front of
Him. *So you want a job,
Buddy?* I ask him with a
Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the
Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a
Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. *Well, I'll see you in a
Few years,* I say with another
Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,
*But you can start with this
And get some practice.* I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max
Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,
Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a
Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading
Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.
Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
That sweet scent wafted in the warm breeze
the moment before we met.
From then on my life was changed
love came with your perfume.
Each of my emotions in hyper drive
until then not alive.
Your perfume was so intoxicating
a doting slave I became.
One direction to achieve your attention
passion drew me under it's spell.
This energy and intensity could not last
one day a shadow was cast!
I became yesterdays man brushed away
when somebody else was snared.
Like me the perfume pulled them within
my heart shattered as I watched.
Another laying prostrate at your feet
no way could I take defeat.
Jealousy never far from the passion of love
not caring when I sighted you.
Unable to control my basic human instincts
attacking forcibly my rival.
Feeling betrayed and the only one hurt
soon my body would hit the dirt!
Standing here a noose around my neck
guilty of deeply loving you!
Even as the trap door beneath me is released
the perfume will linger always.
Never regretting that deep emotional ride
you will be with me inside!
Love and jealousy unceasing like your perfume!
The Foureyed poet.
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 2:53 AM UTC
The wheel of the quivering meat
conception
Turns in the void expelling human beings,
Pigs, turtles, frogs, insects, nits,
Mice, lice, lizards, rats, roan
Racinghorses, poxy bucolic pigtics,
Horrible unnameable lice of vultures,
Murderous attacking dog-armies
Of Africa, Rhinos roaming in the
jungle,
Vast boars and huge gigantic bull
Elephants, rams, eagles, condors,
Pones and Porcupines and Pills-
All the endless conception of living
beings
Gnashing everywhere in Consciousness
Throughout the ten directions of space
Occupying all the quarters in & out,
From supermicroscopic no-bug
To huge Galaxy Lightyear Bowell
Illuminating the sky of one Mind-
Poor!
I wish I was free
of that slaving meat wheel
and safe in heaven dead.
7k
I panicked.
My brain attacked today.
It attacked my lungs,
Stupid sharp whistling sounds.
I looked out of control.
But I felt aware,
that I wasn’t breathing,
that I was attacking myself again.
It attacked my heart,
terrifying skipping stones in my chest.
Whipped one by one,
Muffled blows in my breast.
I panicked.
I looked out of control but I was aware,
of the guilt,
of what will drag along with me.
I can’t be freed from fault,
It’s not the way.
Because I panic;
is why I don’t relate,
is how I cleanse.
Fright being necessary,
like a dream
where you muscle tone fails you,
I was paralyzed.
My knuckles hit the laminate –
again, again, again.
But I don’t move.
Feeling my bicep twitch,
Feeling my throat raw,
My mouth wide open,
But I don’t make a sound.
Because I panic.
The power inside,
will never translate,
to the outside.
People may see flickers,
of insanity in my eyes.
They may see me tighten up.
They may seem me strain and ease.
But I will never translate.
Until it snaps,
Until I no longer attack myself.
Until I no longer panic.
Until I bellow,
Until I howl,
Until I wail,
Until I swing and connect.
Until it attacks outwardly,
Instead of inwardly.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
Your a wraith, a ghost dedicated to a dying faith, like a mistake, you used life for your needs and gave only to take, as a friend you offered lessons in hate but reeked of an essence that only you could create, ignorance, selfish religious babble for instance, attacking the ideals of others with a dagger between your teeth while preaching against the dangers of he who lies beneath, dont confuse evil for pain, try to experience pleasure from the searing rain that hisses off your hatred, if you can't then I'm sorry my friend, but you've already gone insane
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
Pale-skinned girl from Indiana,
with freckles,
yes, freckles, on your cheek,
this is who I am. This is my story.
It is only coincidence that I sing it
to you,
but sing, nonetheless, I do. One morning
amidst the restlessness of my top-bunk sheets
I heard a whispering and thought it might be God it was
me. My unconsciousness begging me
for nourishment, silently loudly attacking
my awareness with questions: it asked why
I neglect it. Pale-skinned girl from Indiana,
with freckles,
yes, freckles, on your cheek,
is this, too, why your body vibrates
when your thoughts are feelings? Because you too
have recognized feeling as thought? That that
faculty of wonder you hush about as if a
***** secret of forgotten childhood memory
is something that is as real as
the metaphysical pores of a skin you cannot touch,
but know is not some foreign, distant, effacing
thing, but is thick, is thick, thick as words
creaking like old wood in a library filled
with students who read so much ******** to get into
college but never venture forth for such skin
in the skin of those unconscious voices in the
shelves? Selves: we call them books but they breathe.
The ideas wriggle in your veins like
a worm. They block your blood yet move
your soul. The stillness of your speechlessness
is some movement in itself. So I suspect of you,
pale-skinned girl from Indiana,
with freckles,
yes, freckles, on your cheek.
So I suspect of myself.
I do not understand how else I could have been born
without eyes which we call eyes. I cannot see
why else.
I cannot.
You cannot.
There is light over there in that darkness.
A glimpse of it- a sliver of silver
has shocked you into your paleness. Into my
blackness. It is the same difference. A different
same.
Line break:
A mirror tells me things with my eyeless eyes.
My brownness ***** me into journeys with
tunnels so deep that we call them pupils.
In the distance that I gaze into I find
myself gazing into a distance I gaze into. Fathom
it. Do not. Will not will it will it will not
willed. Touching it will wilt it without touching:
this is the soul you said does not exist.
It is not there. It is.
In Indiana.
Where's that? asks my blood.
In Indiana.
Over there? my finger points out the window.
No. It is.
It is. Not.
Suddenly I smell something and it is myself.
It is not Indiana or freckles or pale-skin.
I ask you where it is.
Suddenly you smell something and it is yourself.
It is not Gaborone or curly-haired or black.
You ask me where I think it is.
What the **** do we know?
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
Your Style Can Not Dominate
Not Being Crude, Not Spreading Hate
I'm Just Spreading The Word, Going To Radiate
Even Without It, You'd Probably Meet Your Fate
Taking You Down Has Become My Mission
Going To Split Your Mind, Sanity Fission
And Your World In Two, Territorial Division
I'm Coming At You With Insane Precision
Not Going To Rush, Going To Be Tactical
Make Sure My Plans Are 100% Practical
Attacking Aimlessly Would Be Impractical
Give My People A Show, Theatrical
I'm Flawless, You're Flawed
When People Hear My Words, They Applaud
When They Hear yours? They Call The Firing Squad
I Don't Think Inside The Box, I Think Abroad
I'm Guessing By Now You Must Be Hurting
You Coming To Me, Asking For Some Kind Of Converting
The Topic Kills You, You're Diverting
To You. I'm Quite Alerting
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
The footsteps echoed on cobblestones
When a chime rang ten of the clock,
As a sailor making his way back home
Was walking up from the dock,
It was cold and dark for the lights were out
And the street was wet with the rain,
When he came to an old red telephone box
At the side of a narrow lane.
The clouds were black and they opened up
So he stepped in out of the wet,
Dropped his swag as it turned to hail
And lit up a cigarette,
The box was ancient, was George the Fifth
And hadn’t been used for years,
But stood in a lane that time forgot
When the rot set in, and worse.
For most of the houses were boarded up
And the weeds had grown outside,
Some had embarked for a tree-lined park
And some of the others died,
It was lonely there in the dark of night
As the sailor waited, he sang,
But stubbed his cigarette out in fright
When the telephone next to him rang.
He stared at it for a while before
He raised it, stopping the bell,
It had an echoing, ghostly sound
Like you hear in a deep sea shell,
The sound of sobbing came to his ear
And he cried, ‘Who’s there, what’s wrong?’
‘Oh God, I’ve waited forever my dear,
I’m locked in the basement, Tom!’
The sailor said that he wasn’t Tom
But she didn’t appear to hear,
‘He’s got an axe, attacking the door,
Be quick or he’ll **** me, dear!’
The sailor didn’t know what to say
But a chill ran up his spine,
‘Tell me, what’s your address,’ he said
‘Before you run out of time!’
‘I’m straight across from the telephone box,
You usually meet me here,
He’s found us out, and he screams and shouts
That he’ll **** you as well, my dear!
He just came home from a spell at sea
And called me a cheating *****
If you don’t come over and rescue me
He’ll have smashed his way through the door.’
The sailor wanted to say, ‘Enough!
It’s nothing to do with me,’
But flew on out of the telephone box,
Leapt over a fallen tree,
He raced right in through the open door
And he called, ‘I’m here, just wait!’
Then made his way to the cellar door
But all he could feel was hate.
The door was shattered, he walked right in
It was dark, there wasn’t a light,
He felt around for a candle, lit
And stared at the terrible sight.
A man lay dead on the basement floor
Where an axe had taken his life,
And there with her throat like an open sore
Was the body of his dear wife.
He staggered, stopped, and fell to his knees
And sobbed like a man insane,
‘Oh God, it’s true, I did this to you,
But my mind’s been playing games.
I thought if I went away to sea
I’d return to find they were dreams…’
As he sliced a razor across his throat
He thought, ‘Life’s not what it seems!’
David Lewis Paget
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
As the rain came down like an ocean of water falling from the heavens
the wind blew like a million fans blowing in the same direction
I was wet, I was cold and I was struggling to make it pushing against the wind
looking up was hard but squinting my eyes I could see a few stars in the night sky
ahead of me I heard shouting and screaming
a group of people were attacking an older Gentleman
I questioned should I get involved
I feared I might be targeted
but I did the right thing, I got involved
5 people all young men started to surround me
pushing me trying to force me on the ground
punching and kicking
one of the attackers pulled out a knife
I feared for my life.
As I lay their on the ground as the wind began to ease off
but the rain continuing to come down with so much speed and force
I remember thinking one thing, at least the older Gentleman was safe
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
With your words that made me fly somehow.
But hidden within ur innerself its always been your sweetest lie.
Talking bout your dreams devouring me like ashes twisted and slowly disappearing.
The truth acts like a spirited-away. Letting it fly back to its inside.
There's this always inside of you. Something hidden and somethng blocked. Stopping you from outpouring what's inside.
Mind and heart was in despair. They were always contrary but hearing all! With your honesty, i know there is all the droppin of everythng. All numb but eyes were all blown. I cant stop it.
But all a could say. Everythng was fragile.
Revenge has always been part of the human soul. not in its anatomy form or any interior or exterior aspects.
But functioning with its own parts.
Its the anger! Where it all starts. Jealousy and hurt were the main stream and always end to suffering.
Thats all for love. We'd all be needing for us to feel even.
Just a pinch of happiness just to get fair for someone that we love but did somethng wrong within us breaking us. Attacking every tiny vessels which in the end, Turning us into an evil creature.
It was a buss - telling me it was that simple thing. Not to make it more bigger. But lets end this up.
Still it hurts,... Still. Its another woman. Such senstivity arising.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
This is the mountain I'm climbing
Due to circumstantial timing
The triumphant peaks change over time
Just one of this mountain's many crimes
The rocks on this mountain are flawed
But the mountain is flawless
Nature enforces restrictive laws
So my life becomes lawless
Through this insanity
I can't find my humanity
It's gagged and bound
In the lost and found
On this lonely hill
Where I get my fill
It's an uphill battle
Getting above this mountain
My conscience rattles
My eyes pour like a fountain
When I see everything suddenly
Like halos hovering
Over my past
Lying dead in the grass
Sometimes I must traverse a log to go over a bog
Then I must do the inverse to go under the smog
There are countless endeavors
Through varying weather
That leave me very confused
And frantically panicked
This mountain provides a view
Of the entire planet
This mountain made of dust
I scale because I must
Stillness develops rust
When cliffs await us
I see dead pioneers on the ground
I see weary travelers all around
I see fellow climbers as brothers
Unless I see them as a lover
Then I want to go cave exploring
Before my grave ends the story
Things should get weird
If banality is to be feared
In order to make a mark
Even if it's in the dark
To be perfectly candid
This mountain is my canvas
I carve my face in it as I go up
But my face changes as I grow up
So I start swag jacking
The backpacking
Mirror macking
Confidence lacking
Mountain attacking
Climbers
So I can find a crevasse to fit into
This mountain is easy to give in to
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
There are beetles on my skin
Attacking my bark
With pincers sharp
-trying to get in
And as they cover me
Head to toe in a blanket of living death
They tickle in bitter giggles
At my senses, set ablaze
By their exo-skeletal steps
I do not build a scream
For the sound would die out in between
The sheet of beetles
And my trodden lips
Instead I lie still
Commanding them with my negligence
Fusing with their fear-mongering
They take my shape; I don’t take theirs
I am the alpha insect
The form of their nature
And now I stand
In beetled armor
A figure against the sun
My shadow raining over the undergrowth
Reigning over the under.
In this symbiosis we travel
Across valley and valley
Coleoptera-covered Rand McNally
Covering the earth, showing
The dominance of man
The man the man
He who holds the plan
In the palm of his life-colored hand
I am he
The guardian of land and sea
Infected with a voice-in-hand
Who writes eternity
Whose pen is the land filled with ink of the sea
And with beetles of lead
I harmonize
That between myself
And quaking skies
As the world shakes in its roots
During a spacequake
That bends our atoms like dried glue
But then I am not alone
And as I rest on grass of gold
The heroes step forth, dressed in animals
In a dark, ****** harmony
That is the nature of our home, our Terra
The brute beauty in black void
Swimming through time like a turtle
On which the souls of man rest
On golden grass
Our spherical nest
And our evils are justified
By the good of our pursuit of beauty
Though selfish maybe
Though hellish for he
That swims on land
But drowns as he walks the sea
We are multitudes.
We are Gaia, we are the mother tree
The ****** bliss of humanity
Dark and light, both are we.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
Ok so the last few days I have been getting rude remarks on me own YouTube vids that are ****** because for one their old... Two I played songs on old keyboard... And three I've done nothing to this person who keeps openly attacking me on me own YouTube for me to post music.. If I stink soo bad in music how is it I've played with some pretty big musicians who have respect for me poetry and music all around the country and planet? Hmmm... Should tell you something... This is someone not gonna say who because I actually think he's a good soul and man and has an amazing heart but to keep attacking me when all Ive done is good to him and used him in mine dedication poem of great poets than seriously? Come on I must stand up because this stalking of me has to stop as theirs more than one obsessed person doing it lollllllllllll..just shows I bring an impact .a good one others can't stand... That's so sad... Well I forgive the one doing this to me and the others.. But I'm one of love
So I forgive u old friend, and have love for u.. No hard feelings
Just please mate.. No more stalking....
Thanks
Brandon nagley...
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
Time is repetition
As I watch from the couch
“He won’t last the weekend,”
Says Hospice
“They said he might not last the weekend,”
Says Dauson
He’s stronger than they know,
I say
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
False hope, of course
I can see the way
The cancer fights
Deceiving the guards
Hiding and attacking
Slowly taking what’s theirs
Slowly killing,
Spreading down towards the
Ground then rocketing up
Until his psyche
Dissipates into nothing
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
“Go hunting, it’s opening day,”
He says
They listen
But only because
He yells at them to
She goes out to smoke
My grandma with my grandpa’s killer
“Can you pick Dauson up?”
Says Mom to Tracy
Keith’s mother,
Mother of my brother’s “brother”
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then Frosting
I know it’s coming
Yelling it’s arrival
Like the steady beat of a beating drum
I’m surprised
That no one else
Can hear it
That no one else
Can feel it
Permeating the air
The shadows reaching out
With tendrils made of cold
Made of smoke
Made of death’s sweet kiss
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
Time is fast forwarded
Laying him down on the bed
“Melissa’s almost here,
The boys are almost here”
And then time stops for a moment
He’s facing me
Eyes closed, mouth parted
A single tear that is his own
Freezes on his cheek
Orange juice then frosting
Orange juice then frosting
You asked what changed
Me the most?
What made me who
I am today?
A grave stone
A wooden cross
Seeing a man die slowly
Day after day
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
I have secret skeletons
That haven't seen the Sun
From things supposedly fun
Now all they do is make me run
Skeletons exit my closet
And enter my jury box
All of whom I've met
Then put behind locks
Now they throw rocks
Or find ways to mock
They are ruthless
Until I'm toothless
I face a skeleton jury
I face the skeletons' fury
They seek vengeance
Or perhaps repentance
I play lawyer in my mind
This job has become full time
And I must laboriously linger
Through skeleton stingers
Until my mind is rattled
By skeleton saddles
They come from my past
To shatter my glass
The skeletons are attacking
My bones are cracking
Under their weight
They are my freight
They judge me
And begrudge me
I made many moronic mistakes
I left laying at the bottom of lakes
Now they are at the surface
Of my fruitless furnace
Skeletons remain
Like a stain
I look across the plain
To see skeletal rain
Precipitated by my dumb decisions
Droplets make numerous incisions
Each one callously cutting me to the bone
Until the skeleton jury is my humble home
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
my friends say i need to open my eyes but aquarians are dreamy types and i broke my glasses so what difference does it make if i’m sleeping anyways?
i'm 20 years old and that's not a lot
boys think i'm cute
but they think my friend is hot
cause she ******* is
i keep getting high and redownloading tinder
when i'm home alone in my living room
with the office on repeat and my cats
attacking my feet
meanwhile i'm getting annoyed because i'm just trying to eat
and everyone keeps telling me i need some thicker meat
on my bones
and telling me i should watch my texts
and to call if it involves **** or ***
my best friends are sleeping together
i wish i could make this thing between us better
but you kind of **** dude
and i’m sorry but i don’t think i can talk to you
without being rude so..
i guess i don’t really wish to change things after all
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 4:16 PM UTC
To some the world revolves around them,
And nothing else can matter.
They’ll do anything to reach that end,
Including endless idle chatter.
They walk around like “Hey look at me.”
And are only happy when you do.
They’re like an exhibit for all to see,
Like an animal in a zoo.
Nowadays they’re on the net, joining many a site,
And they bully everyone around.
They’ll be on the computer, day and night,
If some attention can be found.
If they start with you, pay them no mind,
It’s the best thing you can do.
I can guarantee their words won’t be kind,
When they start attacking you.
They’re attention ****** as they’re known,
Or trolls as some may say.
They’re like little kids who’ve never grown,
They always have to have their way.
So take my advice, and don’t feed the trolls,
Because they’ll just create a scene.
They are the cyber world’s lost souls,
They are evil and they’re mean.
04-14-16.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC
Saturday I was the happiest knight in your kingdom
Sunday I extinguished loves burning embers with mere chewing gum
Monday I answered your call..... to muster arms, your period enemy.
Tuesday I saw my purple sky fall around me like attacking dragons.
Wednesday I cried bitterly making my own wailing wall.
Thursday I built a trebuchet, to catapult me back into your life.
Friday I lost my sanity when I heard only the Pied Pipers fife
I wish there was another day, I need another chance.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
Might I ask you a question, my dear?
I might have an answer, my sweet.
For all this time together
These years, months and days
You have seen me cry, we've cried together
You have seen me in pain, crippled for days
All by unknown forces attacking my mind
You have dealt with me in times of suffocating strife
My screaming and fits and tantrums
Though all this, do you still love me?
Why, of course.
But why, darling?
Because.
While I have seen you cry and in pain and in fits
I have seen you glittering with joy
From your passions and adventures
And to make me smile.
I have seen you laugh until you cried again
Til you collapsed into silence, grinning like a Cheshire
I have held you while you shine with happiness
As a star from on high, gracing me with your presence.
Now I must ask, why do you inquire?
To remind us, in case we ever forget our love
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC