"befor" poems
Notes passed,
Check yes,
fingers crossed,
Heart against chest,
Stomach in knots.
The note makes its way down the row,
And I recieve curious looks,
But my eyes are trained on your face,
As you grasp the note carefully,
Curiously opening the white sheet,
And reading my neat writting.
*When my eyes open,
You're the last image from my dream,
And when we speak,
My heart skips,
One, two, three beats.
And right befor I go to sleep,
I think of the possibilitys,
Of You and Me.
Check:
Yes No
Date me?*
Your cherry glossed lips spread
Into the softest smile
And your bright, shinning eyes
Find mine.
And I see you blush
Shy.
Beautiful.
You grasp your pencil
Scribble something down
And send it back to me
I can feel my heart
Head to feet
Pounding.
Yes
*My sweet, sweet prince
You've gained my heart
I'll take care of yours.
Love, Your Princess.*
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
Ever see two sappy ****** in the a park holding hands no ******* clue there on the verge of sugar coated
insanity that twisted mind **** known as love.
Yeah you ignore all the warnings of sanity ***** it im in love!
You just cant get enough of each other you **** like two rabbits
and it's perfect but thats never good enough the way it is.
Oh **** no cause then after you sample ya gotta commit and unlike suicide
there isnt a happy ending.
Then one of you starts to wonder hey ya think are they cheating?
Well if they are tahn im sure as hell going to!
Like two kids you have to out do the other.
Hey I ****** your sister!
Yeah well I ****** your brother and your ******** cousin.
Yeah now it makes sense why he's been so dam happy.
Love is the poisen that ***** up the pie children like it or not it is.
It's like the sober ***** at the party who usedto be fun till he found Jesus
or some other superhero and wants to tell you how better his life is now.
When all truth the guy wants to crack you over the head steal your beer
but his head between a pair of big tit's and say **** being sober lets drink till we hit the floor.
Yeah sure you may think Im a ***** and that love is everything thjat makes this marble roll.
Yeah and if thats so Santa Claus is coming to town and he's bringin Elvis and Tupac and there
gonna have ******** with Lady Ga Ga While Scooby Doo films it.
Love does exist of course.
Sure I see the old farts who been togather for so long they dont even have to tell
each other how much they dislike the other.
Love is a moment nothing more.
And like red wine in the hand of some old lush you just pray
it doesnt get spilled on the carpet cause it's hell to get out.
But for the young and horney out there enjoy the fun that happens befor that
std kicks in cause kids sometimes love hurts and really ****** burns.
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 3:31 PM UTC
I'm invincible
I'm ******* invincible
I can jump out the window and fly
I can breed under water
I can walk in traffic and the cars will crash eachouther but not me
I can stand on a train trak and when it hits me it will crumble I will walk
away
I'm invincible
I can go forever without eating
I can stay awake for days
I can say whatever I want to and it will never mess up the episode
I can rip out my eyes and still see you
I can cut out my heart I don't need to love
I can look at butterfly and they fall and die
I can you at you and you feel the I use
befor I was invincibul
everyone says I'm crazy
but don't want me to know
what great power I have
I will see every funeral
I will see the apocalypse
I will see the great rapsher
in the END ther will be only me
I will
never take the posin pills
hear the word you speak
I don't have to do anything
I'm invincible
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 6:27 PM UTC
From this barstool i have sat waitting for some moment
of inspiration to come to me.
But the only thing that that comes to me is
a bartender with another drink.
And in empty reflection lost in a jukebox's song
played by a lonley heart shooting pool.
I cant recall where the spark went.
maybe it fell to floor like the ash from a cigarette.
the page waits at home like a wife waitting in worry as her husban is off doing God knows what.
So worried only wishing he'd return.
And when he does the fear fades and the anger kicks in.
The bottle doesnt hold a key but it does know me well.
I kiss it's fiery lips and cant resist it's charm.
so I sit with it passing hours in a dance that will end in
nothing but another wasted night and a bitter morning taken
out apon my mind.
In a swirl of hungover thoughts id leave half written pages.
To soon find themselves collecting with my ever growing arsenal of
drunken rants.
All ending bitter and cold.
But when the whiskey hits I'll make such great plans
that will never be.
I'll write that epic that will keep in the minds
other writers.
And in the warm arms of women who wanna love a
trainwreck just to say they've known what it's like.
Whiskey wishes are like sparks from a much larger fire.
the sparks fly off into the midnight sky.
only to fade befor are very eye.
Dec 3, 2009
Dec 3, 2009 at 6:01 AM UTC
I belive it was in a rest stop outside of Nashville when I first discovred just what lost truely
was.
The people moved ants to a hive.
Ghost's to the shell so to speak.
Looking up routes streching worn stiff leg's and existing in personal bubbles.
Affraid a seconds conversation would burst a moments ******** cast
existance.
But I only sat watching happy to be a viewer to many seperate acts in a bound for nowhere
play.
Hey you have the time?
I dont even have a watch.
I replyed to some lost south bound kid more ******* up looking
than myself.
He said nothing more as he simply faded into the herd.
They were all bound for somewhere and me I was just killing time.
My home was wherever I could catch a few hours sleep.
And hopefully I'd be outta this state befor long.
I was a nomad most called me a ***
A traveler of fate and a lazy ******* to caught up in my own personal gains to settle down.
The voices of reason would seem to echo through strangers.
Whenever I'd take time to speak like some twisted record player
they'd always repeat.
So where you heading?
Nowhere and hopefully it has a bar.
Why you on the road?
Well really I just decided to take a walk one day.
Where from?
North Carolina.
Wow why you in Texas.
It's a long walk.
Man your weird!.
Arent we all in some way?
And with that the conversation would fade into my beloved silence.
And I would view the highway and it's ever changing landscape.
The mountian sunset's ,the desert in the moolight ,
A city slum to a rest stop outside of Nashville where you find me now.
I'd seen Americas watercolors and her sharp edges and still charming sleeze.
And from a shared ride to a cold park bench.
I was embracing the forbidden fruit spoken of by
far better fools and writers than me.
For true freedom was seldom safe.
But I viewed this world a travller a stranger to all including myself.
And from strange looks to even more bizzar remarks from thoose who couldnt fathom
someone existing with no true purpose.
The question always was asked
from so many forgetable faces.
So where are you going?
Im just taking a long walk home.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC
Stick and stones can Braked your bones
But words will tear your soal into tiny pieces
Maybe not all at once
But little by little
Slice by slice
The wounds will heal
But the wounds of the soal takes more the just time
And if those wounds don't heal
U die, not physically you can't be that Lucky
, no I can't be that lucky
When your soul bleeds it bleeds hope
Hope of change, hope of man kind, and hope that you are not the words, that people call you.
My soul has ran dried befor,
Sliced way to many time
And me with no confidence to stich it back up
I was to the point of opting out,
Saying **** it.
I was tired of being called a freek tired of being told that I am less
That my life ment nouthing
Then I started to bleave it
That the world would be better with out me
And hell it would of been
I did not contribute to this world
Never made a change
I was so **** close
Blood flowing down my wrist
My mettifulical soul
Looking like my wrist
And obviously I lived
But you don't get over that kind of **** alone
It doesn't despair
It builds
U need a rope to get out of that rapid
You know what mine was.....
Words
The same thing that sliced my soal
That night I dreamed
That I was a writer
That my words did more good than the words of the outhers did harm
Not just for me but for others like me
Despair oozing out of them
Hatred coating there mind
That the only thing keeping them alive
Was the fact they cut across the tracks and not along
The next day I wrote
I wrote stories and poems
Letting my worries of the fuecher draw hope from the page and into me
Letting me clime out of my self pity
Without drugs
Without other people (the way I do everything)
And I lived
Not like I was, day by day
No I was finally alive I wanted to live
Not just because its what was expected
But I wanted this, I wanted my dream
I wanted to save not just my life
But some one else
To tell them
Yea words can beat you down, drag you to your grave, dig u a 9foot grave and berry you
But they can also brang you back to life, more alive than before.
Words can give you some thing that you felt you never had
Love, and love is what repair the wounds of your soul,
Show you that you have a reason to live,
No matter if those words are internal or external
They can heal you, and free you from the world that I once feared
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 2:13 AM UTC
i was singing in the sunlight,
i was contemplating day.
when i came across an elephant
who'd gotten lost along the way.
he was tatood with the markings
of the universal gods,
he was walking mortal grounds
trying to even out the odds.
his tusks were chipped-
like jagged spears,
skin was wrinkled
with lines of verse.
his eyes i could not look away
entranced by things untold.
as day broke night and night broke day
his ballad did unfold.
he whisperd in the loudest roar,
through his trunk he wove a tale.
and even though he spoke in elephant
a message it did reveal.
listen child,
oh fragile spirit,
take heed in what i say.
understand that through yourself
your mind will find its way.
listen child,
for i cant stay.
understand that change cant wait,
for time is of the hours day.
listen child,
for there is sound
escaping from the long forgot,
utopian,freedom, grounds.
the elephant did not get to finish
his carfuly chosen words.
for he was shot,
then bled to death,
befor his voice was heard
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 12:28 AM UTC
I do me for sympathy sinks,
As Trees blow in the wind and its hard to see when you got this disease blockin out your insperation formed technique. so i do deeds for peeps not for self asteem, but because i believe in accepting , not threw speech but threw a hand to pat the back when stress constricts your will to breath. rain drips and leaves cover your ceiling as your trying to think peace, i understand and its guaranteed i will be there to give you that moral preach that you so desperatly need. i love you human being, threw this cruel scene i will stand you up, and dig for your seed only to show you how much you mean to the universe, so in return maybe you can wipe the blood when i bleed. Sympathy maybe so. I'm hear to let you know threw this fleshy capsol i too am a soul just looking for balance under control. The role of being me?? I don't mind. Just as long as you promise to set me free when i start to decline. Don't sit blind for its only a matter of time befor this sun shine ends, lift me dead.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
Shade Pines Mental Vacillty.
The room was packed the press ravenous waitting for the return of the madman of the place in which we cannot speak of.
How could it be were the rumour's true shock treatments torture had Gonzo finally sliped over the deep end?
The press was dead silent as he was walked into the room
but the man in front of them looked nothing like the man they once knew no wild turkey in front of him no sunglasses even worse no bloodshot eye's
The person that we cannot speak of spoke in the high almost like a cross between Brittney spears and Borat accent.
To which the press all laughed yet the person that we could not speak of did not get the joke as usal.
Cause he was a word we cannot say.
I pressent to you my friends the new and improved Gonzo.
Now I shall let the man himself speak.
The man who resembled gonzo drooled slightly leaned into the mic
Hello im Gonzo.
And after a bit of a awkward pause like when a alter boy cuts a **** they realized that was pretty much it for his deep speech.
The press astounded finally came to life like a seventy year old man who found a secret stash of ******
Gonzo is this a joke ? Gonzo wanna drink hey what about a ***** joke?
Im fine thank you im so happy to be here and be in your company
And I no longer drink well just water that is.
And may I say im so happy to be a changed man no bad jokes from me.
Nope just good wholesome fun no ***** words well I gotta go to my bible study folks it sure was nice to talk to you all.
The press werent buying it the one female repoter stood befor the shell
of a man and must have had a fashion mishap cause some buttons were missing from her top.
Um you sure you wanna leave?
Well miss im really sorry but I gotta be there on time there having cookies today.
And we gotta go over plans for the bakesale and you really need to fix your top miss cause your gonna catch a cold.
The woman stunned felt as if she had spoken to a alien just what had they done to the man once known as Gonzo.
And had they really lost the madman to this bizzar strange human who now did reside in his body.
Was it the end of ********** and wild turkey?
Would Sanity set in and leave things as fun a watching paint dry?
Would ***** jokes and madness be lost forever.
Tune in next week kids to read the next spine tingling chapter
in this drawn out weirdness known as the new Gonzo.
Nov 6, 2010
Nov 6, 2010 at 11:48 AM UTC
Take this hand.
May I guide you within the depths?
So traggic to view her this way.
White in a doll of china's mask of death.
Tormented did a candles light cast doubt's with no hand to grasp
a wrist bled slow.
Tea leaves and incense.
Masked air of rosemary the record scratched and was inturn
left unherd.
Thoose eye's captured want yet
never could clasp a heart or lockets match.
Was it as planned?
A slow regression into a blackend fade.
A cloth over lamp.
It dimmed the light but never the flawed beauthy.
that I knew well.
Sleep in a life none would yern to awake.
My heart did linger in a thought as overcast skies blue eye's
did paint my thought's gray.
Cold was perfection a raindrop viewed from inside.
I kissed you last as first I bid farewell.
That night you took from many yet only thought as one.
A tormented love a single rose.
So tender you were stained of many.
But a portraiht to me.
Your words a soon to be epitapth of my pain cast memory.
Thank you for never seeing me as so many befor.
Many works of art are cast in pain.
Dove's of life often cry a tear when met to dirt.
I held you close once apon a empty floor only not tight enough.
Music that cast a passion lights so dim often gliow with soul.
I see you now and think of that time.
Tender in a stone that is a chamber I call my heart.
I wish I could have brushed away the pain.
As I did a hair that night from your face.
Thoose eyes a void of passion life often does ****
If you had taken that hand would we have found ourselves?
Or simpley lost it togather in a vague chance at bliss?
I remember you still.
A painting of a woman known to many but who's heart
was shared only with me.
That moment apon the bar's empty floor forever fill's my
thought's
Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 7:17 PM UTC
Every one tells me I'm smart
But I'm not
I am not intelligent I'm just observant
I see why X=Y
I see why America faught in wwII
I see why people make fun of me
And I remember all the **** you've said to me
No I'm not a genius but I'm smart enough to see though you
You thank your better than me
Keep on thinking your fashion makes you better
Keep on thinking that your life is more than mine
I'm smart enough to see that when you rag on me
You alwow your self to believe if you diss me
That the you see in me
The you that you hate to see would not be thair
I can see all the hate in you
I see all the pain in you
Say all that **** about me
Make it seem that I'm the imperfect one
I use to be like you
Constantly denying who I am
Never allowing me to be
Always thinking what they think of me
Only knowing what they known of me
Only cairing what they wishted for me
But I'm not like that any more I see who I am
Not what people cair to see
But who I am
Who I want to be
Every aspect I hid befor
All that i wished for no one to know
I do not deny them eny more
I am not who any one thanks I am
I am not what people want me to be
I am not even what I want to be
I am me
Nouthing more nouthing less
I am who I am
No reson to deny this
And just like I am who i am
You are who you are
No mater if you deny it
No mater if you hide it
Fact is you was made to be who you are
No amount of friends can change that fact
And you will see this like I did
You will make friends that do not size you up
No mater how ****** up you seem to be
They will be their for you
It's just a mater of time before you see who you are
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 11:30 AM UTC
your life begains to change when your paranoia makes your mind play games making you feel like eyes are watching you trap'ed. every step you take is the slide of a cliff you might let go and just fall where you want to release. your fear. i might be crazy but i want to let my perfect life let all my flaws out. i will find that perfect hidden spot and test how deep it is first befor i spred my big angel wings that have carryed you to saffty.
im not perfect but im adventuress with a thril seaking flaw. im not messed up but its work every thing if you take a thrilling dare and let your mind go and en joy what you want to happen. i might bee crazy to you but im living life to the fullest. that feeling of danger where you take the plung in to the ice'y water your life has meaning you. holding onto the ledge of the steep rocky 100 foot drop off the water is so deep theres a reason whay. i found this place cause its a natral hot spring so taky the thrill seeking personality and enjoy life
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
From puppyhood's hour I have not peed,
As others sniffed, I have not gleaned,
As others pawed, I could not seem,
To bark along with the canine teams.
From the hydrants red and wet with drizzle,
I have ne'er to leave my yellow stream,
For my bladder had all fizzled,
Clogged with endless hordes of fleas.
Then- at the vet's, one gloomy dawn,
A very strange device was drawn,
And poked and prodded where I ill,
Then I was forced to take a pill.
Then from the torrent of this river,
My shaggy fur began to quiver,
Upon my haunches did indeed I rose,
Feeling wetly coldness on my nose,
Then the raging yellow stream,
At last dislodged itself of fleas,
And to my great and sweet relief,
They lay a bone befor my feet.
_____________________
The original poem:
Share |
Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
--edgar allan poe
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 9:40 AM UTC
It's only when your alone do we forget what a true pain in the *** people tuely are.
Maybe for some it's just missing waking up next to warm body your face burried deep within her hair.
Others may be something altogather different and for others it is a true friendship far beyond a cheap **** it's the laughter i miss.
Thoose moments I took for granted i guess it's just her I miss.
It was nine years of hell mixed with touches of heaven.
I had tried to erase the memorie with gallons of ***** and cheap flings
Forgettible faces *** can be empty at times and can do more dammage than we know.
The bar that sits only a few paces from her door is still there.
The places all the same yet they seem cold as I am no longer welcome there
Or was it just me and a paranoid refletion.
portsmouth is a strange place indeed where on one side of the street are people sitting outside in the summer sipping cocktails eating overpriced meals.
and right across the street people wait in line at the soup kitchen.
niether group looks towards the other like the old color lines during the times in america we'd all like to forget guilt is a ***** indeed.
Still no matter the problems in this world it always goes back to are own simple lives why you may ask?
Cause we cant solve the worlds problems and thoose who belive they can seem.
to have this habbit of always getting shot.
So here I sit in thumpers the local yuppie bar I used to look at from her window.
the view was a lot better from her place but the drinks are a lot better here.
Do I miss her?
Yes.
Will I knock on her door tonight and beg her for her love like some desperate love struck fool?
No. I just sit here get drunk talk to some woman and if I'm lucky get laid close my in the mist of passion and pretend it's her.
Maybe I'm a coward but I'm also a man and we all need that contact even if for only for one night.
If only I could reverse that view maybe then I'd just sit there and remember just what a pain in the *** she was.
And rememeber why I'm in this goddamed bar to start with.
So I'll drink to her in my seat by the window underneath the neon sign.
And pretend that my life was misery with her so I can stand this crap i'm living now.
Women are the worst drug you'll ever know.
But ****** there fun and I'll die befor I leave em alone.
Oct 29, 2009
Oct 29, 2009 at 12:43 AM UTC
This is just a simple write .
Came up with it lastnight.
Right befor I hit the floor.
Fell on my face yet for some odd reason
my backsides sore.
Drinking with Jack can be trip.
Joking one minute next he'll give ya a fat lip.
But im not the kinda fella that does cry.
He's a crazy fucker but I love the guy.
A demented view.
Totally a hatter so am I two.
When Im off he always takes up the slack
Cheers my semi insane brother Jack.
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 6:00 AM UTC
Speaking from the storm the madness is the perfect place to be.
The roads movement takes my mind from diffrent stages none of
which are sobber.
Like some acid test reject being told I've already had to much
when I hadnt even taken a single hit.
Oh well catholic school was long behind me.
And reflecting apon sister Mary I question why any man would hold such a bizzar fantasy although after that first beating when
I screamed out ****** woman lets knock off the forplay
give me that paddle no wonder the poor woman was shocked.
Thoose years were great till they finally passed me **** how I was looking forward to my tenth prom people see a grown man
at there door a case a beer under one arm and some strange
flower thing in the other asking for there seventeen year old daughter and they assume your some kind of pervert.
Dam you Chris Hansen.
Yes then you turn to dating teachers but there only interested
in the younger one's dammit woman wait hey you used to be
in my class now your a teacher growing up.
Ive herd most people are into it but that doesnt sound like
much fun.
But now that it was voted i could no longer go to summer camp.
Cause of legal issues I have to join this grown up world.
But like my best friend Timmy said life really ***** sometimes
Gonzo.
Yes Timmy you are wise for a ten year old you know you really shouldnt be drinking that mix of cookies ***** and red bull
is a wicked one indeed trust me I learned that at three.
Well as I down six heinekens take a few uppers chop a line
down seven shots of wild turkey just to take the edge off befor work.
I fix my tie and **** it up.
cause that school bus isnt gonna drive itself.
That and thoose kids parents are goona be worried.
Sometimes thoose field trips just get outta hand.
Hell they needed to brush up on there spanish.
Well untill this is Gonzo saying stay crazy and avoid being caught sober blame it on the booze adios.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 8:07 AM UTC
He opened the door as so many times befor the old man not giving thought to a stranger
inside in wait.
His smell gave him away even in the darkness it's always that moment just befor that
excite's me so.
As his feeble hands flicked the switch he gave no thought to a intruder
he only cursed the light.
Godammit! I just bought that bulb!
His voice like a memory lingred within my thoughts of hatred.
The mouse was in the vypers cage and I thrived in knowing the strike would
be savage in nature.
He stumbbled his way to the kitchen and as he was met by only the promise of more darkness it was then he would hear my hiss.
Hello Jim it's been so very long.
His eye's were so perfect in there grasp of terror for he knew the devil well.
Who's there? Get the hell outta my house I'll call the cops!
I couldnt hide my laughter Oh Jim how can you call the cops
When the phones dead besides didnt you miss me?
I dont know what your talking about who the hell are you?
The fear was a drug I knew his heart couldnt take much more but much like the phone he fumbled for it wasnt the only thing that would be left dead in this house.
He staggred back blind was the mose that soon would know my fangs.
My arms around wrapped around the weak old fool he let out a cry but I muffled it
with leather glove.
Oh dear uncle Jim dont you remember me?
You said I was always your favorite you sick ******* *******
How many were there ?
What's wrong are you scared good you ******* freak!
I felt his body tremble just as helpless as he had made me feel
You know old man it's only fitting I should **** you for so long ago you killed me.
His withred lips began to speak my name but soon he felt the sting and the
blood choked the sentance from his mouth.
His throat slit I let the old man crawl painting his kitchen floor a crimsom of pure devilish delight.
I dropped the phone in front of him and enjoyed as he in a last effort to survive
dialed the numders the gurgling noise a sweet music to my ears.
What's wrong Uncle Jim you seem so unhappy?
He convulsed in the floor I watched my creator die in such a beutiful demise.
The sound so sweet to hear my memories were washed clean my past was dead with the
wrinkled old garbage in floor I drove the blade in agian thats for the past you
I drove it in again thats for that helpless disgusting feeling of filth.
I drove it deeper agian and agian blood painted me i was washed clean of his decay.
How i love family get togathers
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 5:40 PM UTC
Nights move like a forgotten ghost unwanted by all.
A vision unseen to all but one.
Down damp streets he haunts the same path every night just befor the dawn.
The empty hearts gather to drown togther in the sea.
Togther feeling so very alone.
Can we cast shadows in the darkness project happiness in such gloom to return the same old haunts again and again.
A wheel rolling without question.
On into the emptyness of my night.
Waitting for a return that never will be.
Cursing the problem never understanding it was her and me.
As the dream turn to the drunk.
The painter paints no longer sunsets but
Nights and his thoughts of blue to gray.
Warmth in the darker corners gives a view to
the young and the still hopefull.
Tiping my half empty glass I wish them to never know pain.
Finding a home with other empty hearts caught.
In ***** sheets im haunted by the ghost of my
former self.
A puddle stepped in cast waves of reflected neon light.
As we play a roll unknown to all
At typewritter I sit.
Listening to To the bar and bottles clatter men and women's
laughter and soon forgotten fight.
Yerning to be free so is the emptyness of my night.
Dec 17, 2009
Dec 17, 2009 at 10:07 PM UTC
It matters not who you are where from
Each entity has and is a soul things to say
What it sees from where its standing
Upon any given night and any given day
Each soul has a voice and every poem too
Is what it wishes us to experience knowing
From wanting us to gather information
Happiness sadness Love from winds blowing
We make it harder for our souls thinking
That we controll our fate destiny and way
Instead of listening to our souls own voice
And what it has us for us to explore any day
Be it love in all forms from lust to simple care
And it gets angry with us ignoring its request
We often give ourselves advice its our ignorance
Not having been there yet not knowing of its test
Convincing ourselves we know when we do not
Telling others of our own ideas how it should be
Reasons why we should listen to it act upon it
Have bodies minds hearts sail that unsailed sea
It comes to us with a thought a wish a need
And we decide oh no thats not for me and so
We miss its requests for us to find out first
Before speaking for it not allowing do it go
Think of all many advise without knowing
Of things we have never known but insist
Of things situations emotions never learned
Feelings we feel not me but still never kissed
Saving ourselves religious fantasy from equals
Listening to endless advice from pretenders
Who never have been there but know it all
Without lives putting lives through blenders
Ignoring our own souls requests playing god
Our souls get angry adding karma to awake
Then us blaming others life others unknowing
When its ourselves to blame our own mistake
Walk those paths never walked befor then advise
Know more of things we ridicule often true
Know what a situation feels like first of all
They might be way better than we ever knew
Endless reason there are for allowing our souls
To request us to do as it wants us to do
Then after we experience pass its tests
We might like dislike love admire of them true
Many reasons are there for its voice being poetry
Try to read others writes between lines that be
Think deep then write of how you imagine was
If not known then go sail that unknown sea
https://sep.yimg.com/ay/yhst-13927681880659/bronze-the-thinker-sculpture-2.jpg
terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
So many truths do embrace a gentle teasing lie.
Im far worse than you may invision a monster of rampage and gentle nightmares poetic reprize.
Do you ever wonder fact from fiction or simply never care just as long as it so does entertain.
Bleed the well to starve the creative fire will it ever make sense again?
She 's always a muse but seldom a creative force my words my own share the glory and you'll
lose sight of the shore.
To many drink's and lost night's lets cast them aside once more in a one night stand passion
Let us never cross paths again.
You'll only see me in shadow so take the best and try to never recall what was left befor sunset called it a night.
Broken dreams gather to make a soul bitter and this **** I just cant stop.
Please understand it's never been a choice dear heart.
A hotshot taken in vice and a final fix.
We never cast the stones we belive will be returned.
A dance will cost you more than you could ever understand.
And once to I saw the forrest for it's tree's now I simply cast blind regards to
thoose I cant truely recall.
They pass me by as so should you.
Sweetheart will a moment cast a delusion I cant be?
Old times were the hell are you now?
So gather your thoughts call me the fool for refusing to care.
Soon I will erase it just the same final round join me toast nothing and old friends
no longer here.
Soon I will carve that place eternal as a nights velvet harsh as dreams that once
I belived were mine.
Sunsets always hold the pain as nights hold my heart.
Forever doesnt seem all that long to me.
Take from it what you will.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
(PARODY, SATIRE & TRIBUTE)
From puppyhood's hour I have not peed,
As others sniffed, I have not gleaned,
As others pawed, I could not seem,
To bark along with the canine teams.
From the hydrants red and wet with drizzle,
I have ne'er to leave my yellow stream,
For my bladder had all fizzled,
Clogged with endless hordes of fleas.
Then- at the vet's, one gloomy dawn,
A very strange device was drawn,
And poked and prodded where I ill,
Then I was forced to take a pill.
Then from the torrent of this river,
My shaggy fur began to quiver,
Upon my haunches did indeed I rose,
Feeling wetly coldness on my nose,
Then the raging yellow stream,
At last dislodged itself of fleas,
And to my great and sweet relief,
They lay a bone befor my feet.
_______
The original poem:
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Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
--edgar allan poe
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 6:23 AM UTC
Blood on my hands doesnt wash clean as that from my mind.
in temptation we did bask for moments in despair I know
all to well.
A fool to imagine a ghost but in a less than empty room.
Sweet girl dont try to see beyond that which laughs befor you.
Im a shipwreck in low tide.
A vessel to long ive tasted time in it's bitter affliction.
A page away from a traggedy a night less in thought.
Behind the mask you'll find no reason.
Strangers we shall remain togather in this bed.
My words nothing more than fragment of a driffters heart.
Black and white images sharp tell stories i do not
wish to share.
Wine glimmers in crystal by the fire's light.
Towards a lesser man you lean to fill a need.
****** of the pen bleeding in thought.
The night's end and a comfort does point without direction.
The shoe if worn isnt all it seem's to be.
Ive cast stones breaking emotions to uncover all
that isnt me.
Sharing less more than friction then with light i'll trace
curves never speaking in my lies truth.
Im a ******* but least im real.
They want a devils fire in trade of a moments
encounter to seethe picture for what it is seldome is as
beautiful as dellusions of a dream.
Moments no matter there timeframe always stay.
like scars there forever on display.
I take pictures only in thought and paste secrets of beauthy apon
my minds cluttred wall.
Whispers of passion regrets I cherish so dear.
Shared a nights velvet inside more than thought.
Although in this moment i share space.
Im never truely here.
And in mornings light just maybe happines in thought.
leaves the warmth in the emptyness behind.
Althougth far from a companion in flesh within memory
you shall exist in this jaded mind.
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 4:00 AM UTC
young lovers know that traggic passion blind to failure
blind to everything that doesnt see them togather.
So in early morning passion just befor light.
they slip off togather dreams and hope taken along
for the ride.
long brown chessnut colored hair flowing out the window
along with are dreams.
A fence post marker the road togther holds
a certin magic it seems.
Love made from state to state
the waterfall to which we did race
skinny dippin togather by that old forgoten place
Your naked beauty etched within my mind along with
the hapinees reflected from your face.
Broke down in blue springs Missouri.
Now i dont question why your eyes
were overcast with worry.
Apart the nightmare cant erase thoose nights spent
laying in blissful silence your head apon my chest.
Memories depend apon your view.
I 'll just kiss the that jasmine scented southern
breeze for the rest.
My darlin I ask fingers interlocked
with time my heart what shall be
are plan.
A tear touches that vision of a face.
As you recall the memories of when togather we
ran.
Oct 22, 2009
Oct 22, 2009 at 6:16 AM UTC
I wonder as you left the bar that was it a night of significance?
Has the booze made you blind to that which lurks in shadows ?
Have the lies led you to belive in something that is not real?
I wonder befor that pipe made contact what went through that untalented mind?
Such a silly fool the sound still plays in my ears like a beautiful
piece of music as you collapsed in the street.
The thud as I drove my boots deep into your ribs.
I wonder what thoughts escaped that now cracked skull.
Make me laugh now funny man!
The past has a funny way of creeping up on us.
No soil.
No grave.
I left you broken like a bottle to be
swept into the gutter wuth the rest of the
trash were were you belong.
RIP Gonzo
May 13, 2010
May 13, 2010 at 9:57 PM UTC
Sometimes when i say goodbye.
I wonder how I hold it togather befor
the phone touches the reciever.
Does she know the pain I mask.
Memories make us drunk with emotion.
Time makes us bitter from the cold.
And in the darkness she brings light.
Under the ice she creates warmth.
She kisses the past away.
My shelter in which to run
If I choose to lead so does she follow.
Two halfs of one heart.
Weve walked across broken glass to lay
in a feather bed.
The nights passionet flow
her head apon my chest.
And how could I find one so perfect for me.
Distance takes the heart and traces the tear.
Such comfort brought from the understanding.
That pain would be erased if she were here.
Jules i see that next day as a promise
set in stone.
That from that first hello
we found in one another a reason to never be alone.
The highway rolls into the horizen
eternal is the love.
As a sun sets apon the ocean we stand
my arms wrapped around you waves crash into the shore.
In love I give everything.
For i could spend a lifetime here with you.
And still thirst for more.
With words we struggle to say.
What flows from the pen.
Also bleeds form the soul and that
shall never go away.
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 6:59 AM UTC