"botton" poems
Turn the key
Push the clutch in.
Grasp the handle bars and push the botton.
the engine roars to life then I'm gone, what a beautiful day not to hold on.
Today I'm on a trip, down the windy roads of the back country.
Shady spots where trees lean over head the cool air on my skin. I can feel the air change as I go farther and farther down these roads
I come to a stop a three way to no where. Go left because everyone seems to be right. Let go of the bars and let the bike roll I can fly for a moment.
Threw the S curve going faster but slow to see the hills roll by
Today happiness for I may fly, I think of you for just a moment how good it would feel to be pressed against you as you drove.
But you're not driving, I am, so I go and go still looking for a place to land.
Threw the S curve and slow to see the hills, feel the cool breeze and the shade of the trees.
This is freedom if you don't think about it.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 5:43 AM UTC
Along the faithful stretch of tensile black ribbon
Homesteads garnished in sporadic , hospitable shade
Sunshine releasing every brilliant pigment ,
summit eloquence in festive motion ..
Botton land fathers toil a plethora of viable hillside earth ,
Afternoon chimney fires season the air with -
-Hickory and Oak kindling from creek-stone hearth
Silver Guineas patrol the forest edges , cordillera
Mountain Deer free themselves from the ******* of the midday struggle , recede into wooded escapes , immune from discovery ..
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
I unscrewed my belly button and my **** fell off
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
drinking the last drop of my life away
hoping ill find it another day
anything that comes out is lies, is what others say
I try my best to communicate
with my inner being and what some call fate
how can I when I feel the spiritual hate
I wanna speak but afraid I'll say unnecessary crap
to be honest my life is just a demonic trap
I can't remember the last time I ever ran a lap
my family is worried and im a huge mess of a disaster
Im trying to run faster and faster
Im gonna get known as a fuck'd up baster
my emotional touch has lost all feel
because we kissed and I know it was real
I am your one true only deal
my mistakes seem to cross along more
I love it all too much, but I don't won't to be a bore
I wouldn't want to get looked as *****
my body wiggled and falls like it was reborn
I just wanna keep the reply botton on to this ****
gosh it's much better then eating a can of corn
I have problems that seem like children and have fun
they never quit they seem to like this run
it could take in any place, like in rainor in the sun
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
A group of men fight on a united front to get what they each want
Three men trying to find somebody to care for
They all fight for some reason unbeknownst to your normal heartless compeitor
A united front formed off the formations for what really is not a status quo
One got what they want the others are waiting for a chance to trade in their chances to see if they hit Gold or fall down to rock botton once again
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
w -e may notice why the
first letter of some
title sometimes might
be a little one
R -earrangeable once
we set the capslock
botton and make it
capitalize
i -used backspace
eventually for me to
change and delete it at
the same time
S -erenade peeking at a
maiden played by
young singer deeply So
in Love
T -hey press and hold
shift key in their left
and right just to
control dull moments
in long lonely night
© Easter Sunday
March 31 2024
11:20 a.m.
Mar 30, 2024
Mar 30, 2024 at 11:20 PM UTC
Underneath
Blue sky
A field of
Brown botton-eyed
Sunflowers
Still
Chirping
The
Words of
The
23rd psalms
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
Wrap those arms around yourself,
It's a boost for mental health.
Embrace all feelings when alone,
Then hug until you reach your bones.
Squeeze until it's hard to breathe,
Slowly release and know relief.
Now wrap your brain around yourself;
Unbind the belt cinching sense,
The straight jacket 'round your head;
Buckled and strapped,
It fits like skin;
Too much penance for all our sins.
Unravel the sticking, needling voice,
Whispering...
I have no choice.
It's not because you're lacking wealth,
Family, friends or stable health,
But one's perception of oneself.
Don't wrap your neck inside a noose,
Or shoot yourself with an overdose;
Don't splay yourself on a subway track...
I wonder would I feel that.
Leave Daddy's gun locked in its holster;
Hold high your chin while treading water;
Stand still on bridge, cliff or ledge,
You won't hit bottom til you're dead.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 9:53 PM UTC
You've reached the botton of the barrel now just scraping for luck
Walking around hoping for someone to give a....damn..
Digging for smiles but all the wrong ones
Hiding the sorrows from the world you've created
Why hide and keep living life so jaded?
Too easy to fall into a cliche but serious despair
I tried to tell you from the jump, I can and will always be there
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
'loneliness is a tax you have to pay to atone for a certain complexity of mind.'
- Alain de Botton.
Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 3:04 PM UTC
Enveloped within the Womb,
the Fetus
***** her thumb;
Unaware that very soon,
her life will come undone.
-
Her mother doesn't want her,
or believes that she's alive;
All that she believes in,
are Satan's filthy lies.
-
This Fetus has ten fingers,
and ten l'il toes;
Her mother's deep, blue eyes,
and daddy's botton nose.
-
Her eyelashes are black,
as is the hair on her head;
It is not her own fault,
that mommy wants her dead.
-
And so walks in the Doctor,
scalpel in his hand;
He digs around within the Womb,
Mother's little plan.
-
Now when the scalpel meets her arms,
it slices the right one off;
Through all the pain this Fetus feels,
this child is thinking, "STOP!"
-
It slices and dices this Fetus up,
until there is nothing left;
Then Jesus takes her by the hand,
this one who was Heaven sent.
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC
The way you used to look at me,
Seems like it will show me a,certainty
Of our substantial existence, but now everything will be said in the past tense
On how was this buffled soul focused on the enigma of your gentle voice and caress,
The picture of your face is painted on the thorn and blisttered canvass of my subconcious, the blurriness caused a dogma on how i see,perceive and perfect the idea of primates how they've turn black to brown to white and lure the lady wolf into his den to devour her with it's sweet sweet whispers and talks,
Snortning chalk to make you believe that a Supreme being does exist, for him to be your world of wherein you won't be able to resist, for each and every second and hours passes by, that makes that green botton alive for the primate will never say goodbye, curses have summoned by an old man, who brought the wolf into this lands and does not want a real man
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
Forever forsaken to the blind rage that is quiet depression. Suffering in silence, wanting to speak but forever trapped in the fear that this feeling of lonesome and depression is becoming a severe obsession. Constantly questioning sanity because words and thoughts SEEM to not make sense and SEEM unclear. Spaces in my brain filled by forever haunting memories, and drowning in the missing details of mixed signals and ununderstood words. We swim laps in the same swinning pool of dreams abs memories. You continue to swim but i slowly drown and sink in the bottom. Sinking in the botton of an empty liquor bottle which is joined by a mixture of unknown pills to **** the pain. Not just to **** the pain but also to **** the strain, and quite often to **** away. (Did you catch that, nope probably not) INSANE. Insane like the lines, ropes, and strings that entangle thoughts abd wrap confusion in the open arms od my brain. To quote the words of B.E., books dont make sense if you read them backwards. You'll single out the wrong words. Like you mishear all my songs. Those are not my words, yet, I understand so well that its like a segment of thought blindly retracted from the deepest parts of my brain.
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
14x 9
Presently worth $196,000
But what do I give away for the little girl that lives in the guest house
And the needy children around here
I turn on the light, and a picture of color, fabric, glitter, sparkle, and a few fashion faux pas stare back at me
The black dress is an dior original I wore it to mom’s funeral
My very first pink onsie from daddy is too small but it is too cute to give away
The red and white plaid skirt I wore on my last day of junior high
Tye-dye shirts the result of boring rainy Saturdays spent sitting around at home
Black knee high boots, I call those my stripper shoes
How could I part with any of this?
Each color was handpicked to complement my skin tone and conceal my vitiligo
Each botton here is one of a kind
Each portion of fabric was created for my small frame
Each scrap of embroidery was flown in from all around the world
Each speak of sparkle made from sequins, mesh and satin had been ordered weeks in advance
Each piece of lace and brocade was bought from a French tailor who went to school with daddy
Each piece of clothing here is very dear to me
How can I simply give away my memories to any old stranger?
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 12:55 AM UTC
Today I dreamt with ghosts and butterflies.
Both shared contrasting symbolisms
Glowing in dark transparency
Or hidden-ly invisible?
I'm lonely in the classroom.
Nobody is interested in me.
I'm wearing a bright blue sky shirt
with my upper botton unbuttoned
letting my hair go oblivious
to the bullets that are being shot through.
I don't know what's wrong in people:
they love the unlovable
they like the unlikely.
Shallow portraits of intimate light
getting lost in the flinch of an eye.
And
just like that: my dream dissapears.
Right where the sun meets the sky
and the tales of the night
flicker, in the bright moonlight.
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 3:23 AM UTC