If a busy gun takes lives
Then silent leaders do worse
They burn lives, hang knuses on the innocent
Voice your pain or get blessed with a curse
Blood shed Schools
We elected fools
Wrong leaders to lead us
Pushing useless agenda’s
While feeding us propaganda
Halls covered red
thousands of innocent people killed
At the expense of gun reform laws
Watching news with dropped jaws
We sit in silence
while the voiceless die for peace
This thing I thought I could grasp,
Desperately I try to hold on to it,
This thing I never truly had,
I knew this illusion couldn’t last,
It disappears as soon as we reach for it,
It’s as thin as the mountain air,
For a moment we lie to ourselves,
placing it safely and securely on a shelf, "I can keep this here and never let it go."
Even though it is a forced perception,
A contrived illusion ,the world's largest deception,
Once we leave the room...
As soon as we lock and bolt the door...
we will not be able to see it anymore.
We never realize the freedom there is in letting go,
understanding that no matter what we do, the answer may still be no.
We would be happier admitting this concept is completely fictitious.
We could break this circular pattern, this cycle so vicious.
I've spent too much time trying to hold it in my hands,
Making myself the victim of my own laid out plans.
You are sweet
Like overripe fruit
Forgotten in my kitchen
Salty skin in the summer
Lips touch under shady trees
Watching busy bees
My mind is a busy bee
Thinking turning spiraling
Out of control
Just a book waiting
To be written
I cannot trail words
Together and make
Them make sense
I can only break
Words apart between
My teeth and spit
Hoping they hold the
Answer all on their own
Because I cannot slow
Down and think about it
Think about the words
They come out in quick
Sudden sad sounds
Spilling out of my mouth
I try to swallow them
Whole but I can’t
I can only choke
I’m so sorry
Life is easy
But it's been busy
Happiness is light
But sadness likes to fight.
My mind is big
But it's some dig
Dreams make it right
But sometimes turn to the dark sight.
My heart is young
But it's some wrong
Thoughts write day to night
But diary is always white.
The face is smiling
But it's really crying
Sometimes breath is so tight
But everyone knows it's alright.
Love is part of life
But sometimes treats like a knife
When something happens inside
Then someone commits to suicide.
I love my life
I love my dreams
I wouldn’t use a knife
I have family and friends.
Don't worry about me
I can hear and see
I don’t like to take flight
I'm alright in my way, I am alright!
There is no certainty in cancer.
No simple cure. Easy way out.
gnawing away the brain.
Leaving only regrets and memories.
No matter how young, happy, rich or healthy one may seem...
There is no certainty in cancer.
It is a faint word drifting in the air.
Infiltrating households. hospitals. Families.
But never us...
We are too strong.
We have too much life to live...
The words soaks into me
Suffocating me in my own skin,
What has my life become?
A sunken abyss of darkness.
An empty vessel of meaningless time.
Now Its just me.
And my soundless mind.
I've got too many books that I just don't read
and too many lines which I need not speak
and so many times I still forget to breathe
So darling, you're not what I need
I've so many thoughts running through my mind
and too many lines in queue for me to write them
and so many mates who could do with good advice
So darling, I've not got the time
I've seen too many films and I've seen this bit
I've had too many drugs and I know this trip
I can't play the guitar but I've played this riff
So darling, why don't we just leave it?
Sometimes I speak slightly at an angle,
or blow money out quick like a candle.
Sometimes I'll be too heavy to handle
so don't pick me up because I could be ******* fragile.
I've been to all the shows and I know this song
and I'll still get the key, tune, note, words wrong
and I've a long list of friends where it's been way too long
I'm sorry, you're not what I want
why do ppl need a justification when theyve already been turned down ??
half poem half song idek just a spitball
Sorry about the punctuation
I dont have the mind
Neither the time
To be thinking about this
To be feeling like this
To be so overwhelmed
To say the damns farewells
I just wanna
I just gonna
I don't know
-Maybe if I keep myself busy I won't have time to remember
First thing's first
I awaken at six
Only to sleep until seven thirty
I ate breakfast and
brushed my teeth
I went to
The fun kind
That my team won
Lapping the other
Then we got
I put REAL
And took an hour
A half metal mouth
With green bands
As a surprise
It's a surprise for my friend's party
When you smile I come undone the threads of these carefully picked out lies start falling apart and it scares me to give in when for so long these wounds have kept me busy and occupied so I did not need to worry about living life too constrained with keeping them clean hung up on survival my rearview mirror guiding broken bones set on mending energy spent tired eyes shut life, passing by.
It's been several weeks
Passing on and on and on,
That the words don't come
Nature heals me,
The soft whisper of life -
Soothes my darkened soul
A smile makes me believe again
The words I read let me feel again
The words just won't come
Forcing them never work
Drinking is tortuous
The room of love has been
An empty oasis waiting in the sun
This seems insurmountable at times
Long, never ending battle against myself
Every time I try, it's a busy tone
Staring at the black keys
They mock me in plain sight
Only the tones of music hear me
Only my closed eyes let me see it
Now when I'm done
we can talk.
From now on I'll have more time for you,
I'm not that busy anymore,
not hustling, fighting
against the time.
No more running
like a blind,
chasing my own shadows
I'd never find.
Now, when I'm done,
we can talk,
just let me know.
I'm all ears,
I'm all patience.
I'm all yours.
my hands are on automatic, pressing down on clay for three hours
then pinching plastic through wire for another three …creating and creating.
Coiling around the hurt & hiding it in a mount of clay "the kiln will burn it” I say to myself
My misguided attempts at the time to bury my hurt; run from it. All that remains of that time in my life are short poems like this one. c. 2015
Who gets mention constantly in church?
One, for our mistakes and the other for various things.
One deserving of all praise and the other for distraction.
But does he really deserve this proclaim?
The devil business stopping us from going to church.
According to many deny by some.
For our own personal decision blocked that path to attend.
Devil, is busy according to a few.
When you let the nasty or bad side invade things you chose to do.
Jesus will forever get the highest of praise.
So deserving of them in all things.
But Satan can only tempt those that feel the need to be.
And when we surrender up into giving into our own bad side.
Suddenly the devil is the blame.
Should he comes to ****, steal and destroy.
But many times it's all because we want to do things that are not good at all for us.
each time I can’t get you off my mind
I remember you can’t get me off at all
sometimes I want you to know that I
intentionally drove to your house that day
I wanted you to hate me as much as I hate you
and you still take depression naps
and I still take all of the side streets
now I have a new sense of purpose
and you have a car payment
I feel so alone but so held at the same time
as if it’s the moon that’s trying to talk to me
why have I always had pivotal moments
while staring directly at telephone wires?
to this day I’ve lived six different lives
and I have no plans to stop evolving
coins still fall from parts of me wherever I go
it never had anything to do with you at all
if you go at someone else’s pace it shows you care
which is ******* insightful and I learned it from ***
I remember the smell of your mother’s house anytime
I’m clean so I stopped showering and doing dishes
my roommate rolls her eyes each time but I’m
just as ***** as I’ve always wanted to be
I rarely ever miss you and when I do it’s fleeting
I keep having dreams where my hair is to my knees
I know how to stand up straight and
you’re still just as small as I left you
I tuned in to a Christian radio,
they had an interesting debate
about the power of Jesus,
about life after death.
I phoned them to take part,
but I did not get through.
All lines were very busy -
for those with different views.
My head is filled with black-striped bees
Bizzing and buzzing as they please
The world's a thund'ring 'fall
Roaring its loud call
Life's a tornado
Then I see
Memories crying, screaming to be heard.
Try as I might to bury these amidst busy days,
still they rise from the backyard of my mind haunting my dreams,
making youth a nightmarish memory.
Empty rooms cry out in agonizing silence.
White ghosts float on lifeless bodies with the same question; why?
Anxious moments still taunt just beyond of safety.
The sickness that gave birth to this still clouds the mind.
So long ago, a lifetime to make peace, still lucid moments of torment
making March an anniversary dirge.
It makes no sense to cry for those gone, for mortals spent in tragedy,
yet every year I try to understand once again, why?
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
How shall I obliterate those warm memories?
The sweet moments penned in my mind's diary.
Succumbed I was in your trance,
those passionate moves of our dance.
I was alive because you were there.
Nothing mattered, for all seemed fair.
To me, you were the only right.
In my darkest hour, you were the only light.
Then time changed its tide.
We left each other's side.
We became busy in our lives
And everything else just died.
Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
I wrote this a very long time ago, I think I was 20 back then. I think the poem is pretty simple and obvious, you can read through and get an idea. Ciao!
Busy like a hummingbird
In a hurry all the time
Your beauty it's captured
Barely, but after, you're gone
You smile and you feel
Like the beautiful swan
Who used to be the **** duckling
Now the compliments are on
You're not used with them
You take them all in
You drink this cup too fast
And you forget priorities…
You're drunk on them
You want even more
And you stretch your wings
Yet you dance on their songs
You visit many flowers
My little hummingbird
You don't see they wait for you
As they've prepared their gardens
There's someone for you
Who can give you the world
You'll miss it, I am afraid
As your too busy to rest...
there are 365 days in a year,
i have not lived many, i know that... i do
but if that statement is true,
why do the once breezy summer seconds,
ones that used to **** by trailed by excitement
now drag with heaviness and bass
that only concrete wonders could fulfill.
today i thought of you
no, i don’t know the day number, although that would’ve been clever.
conclusions have been made in my mind
distractions do equal a cure, at least what i find
does that make me twisted?
does it make me just as numb as you?
i don’t want numb
i want purpose,
i crave a life outside my mental restrictions which bring self pity,
i am not you.
i am my own,
i create my story
i am not just a set of pretty eyes
or chestnut tinted bangs
or maybe rosy cheeks with a personality to match.
i do not need a headliner with your name presented as the title.
i know that now.
so i will stay busy,
go ahead and take your bow.