"bmp" poems
I won’t say much about how I was raised
Except this, it was horrid
Bugs flying every which way left me mortified
Up until my death bed I will be aggrieved
Crawly bits going over my feet
How did I end up in that situation?
Why was I in the pit of disgusting things?
Oh well, you see, I’m out now
So I guess that’s all that matters
Just a bmp in the road
Yet, now it seems I see things
At night in my dreams I wake up screaming
As a snake wriggles across my chest
And millipedes writhe down my throat
That life apparently wasn’t good for me
Not in the least bit slightly
My mind aches from nights spent awake
Praying on the side of my cot
Hoping the badness would go away
That the monsters would stay out
But to no avail
Why did I end up this deranged?
Why am I so sick in the head?
You can blame my upbringing
And all the things that haunt me
But for now
I’ll pretend I’m fine
For I can’t wake up otherwise
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
Elton John is charging forward,
At the rate of 152 bmp,
Like a boat racing shoreward,
A boat who's crew is due for some leave.
Chargin like an angry rhino,
John is jumping about,
Tearing through the room with abandon,
Just begging for a scrap.
Feeling invincible in the moment,
Where everything is going JUST right,
Where your spoiling for a rumble,
To tumble for tumblin' sake.
To break free from the usual,
For a breath for fresh air,
For a breath of something REAL!
Chain smoking like a man on death row,
Cold beer in one's hand,
Getting well and truly ripped,
Pleased at where the night is going.
All tasks accomplished,
All challengers laid low,
Sporting a bruised and bloodied brow,
But a victorious smile showing all the same.
Wind blowing through hair,
Legs churning asphalt like it's no one's business,
Feet barely touching the ground,
Onto the next scrap,
The next in a long and wonderful night.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 2:22 AM UTC