"chronically" poems
bow down to women
your superior
admit it
deep down inside
you know men are inferior
always *****
hormonally driven
a slave
to their desire
whacking off
watching ****
chronically ************
for six hours a day
in modern times
men are useless
obsolete
it's a new age
of girl power
female **********
gynarchy
Aug 27, 2021
Aug 27, 2021 at 4:35 PM UTC
Three-legged spider on a ***** tile
Eyeball rolls, clean in hand
Massive metal door opens, up top a hill
Graveyard of ever-ringing cells.
What's real creepy to you?
Enclose the city, lock us out ..for good
Condemned as doomed, living dead
Big guns survive in metallic domes
See the crass ******** shoot us down!
Wanna talk about what's creepy, huh?
Plunderers now lay down new laws
Can't fight the sick, red sway
Random acts of violence bay
Armoured eyes see all from lofty towers.
Creepy autocrats hide the truth, right?
No soaring when blood runs rivers
Tripping over rotting corpses
Decaying stench of hope dying
Help will come, we must believe!
Do you believe lies to your face?
Infrastructure's down, no services
Power's out, no more flushing
Car carcasses aflame on every corner, yet
How come big brother's eyes still move?
Are the gullible ones really stupid and feeble?
Sun shines, but nothing grows
Rain seeps red away into sewers
Crops of twisted metal, hoards of guns
Skeletal trees adorn our landscape.
Why hold askance your glance skyward?
The gates will open to let us in
Surely, they witness our hardship!
There must exist a life beyond this strife
Uproar, bombard, gas, artillery....then no more....
Can you ever cease to have temerity?
In face of adversity, calamity and injustice
We should NEVER cease to be exasperated!
Hope must prevail; faith must live;
Thoughts expressed; love and respect must survive.
Can you afford your spirit just to let go....?
Think about it. Creepy autocrats eternally rank ...
Chronically..........Insidious
Repressively........Deleterious
Egotistically.........Inadequate
Eruptively............Odious
Pretentiously.......Tedious
Yucky...................Scum!
S T, 31 May 2013
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
I took a walk today
and listened to the birds
choking on the smog,
broke my mother's back
with every step
and outran a stray dog.
I picked you a bouquet
of dandelions from the field
because flowers can't grow
when the sun's always concealed.
I put them in a vase
and filled it with water from the tap
they died within an hour,
now I know for sure you won't come back.
I always swore
I'd never own a broken home
but it's hard not to when the only one's who stay
are the garden gnomes —
but someone's been smashing them
in the middle of the night,
or maybe they're blowing out their brains
to escape my company
and the blight.
There's no magic left
in this city, so chronically gray
storms are always passing though
and the rainbows are too scared to stay...
I wanted to run away with you
from the hood and past the burbs
to somewhere where the air is clean
and filled with singing birds.
But instead I'm stuck here on this couch,
microwaving Ramen
while I search for words.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
What gives you the right to
judge me,
criticism wasn't asked
so why you
open your mouth,
What's your prerequisite
to make assumption's
& judgments-
Constructive criticism
my ***
My
ADHD
PT-SD
Dyslexia Anxiety
& dealings with you
caused me a break down,
got me
chronically depressed,
You say you only
want the best for me,
Well shut up & let me be!
pill popping just so my E.E.D.
(Emitted explosive disorder)
wont cause me
to become
sentience
with life
new labels
would say
******
if you keep bothering me
I ain't stupid-
So stop talking down to me
Im not illiterate
******* I read
So let me be
No I don't have TS
(tourette syndrome)
I ******* cuss
cuz I wanna
so shut the hell up
I know right from wrong
I'm no psychopath
Then again
I just might be since
I could give a flying ****
about you
weather you live or die
I wouldn't cry.
Your making it harder
for ya self not me just go way
Doc
Do ya got **** Job,
I don't want to talk anymore
My past is where I left it
Behind me
You deal with it
Cuz
I already did & do
For you that
call your selves
wanting to help....
My OCD
(Obsessive-compulsive disorder)
is personal
So what if I wash
my hands& ***
3 or more times
I'm not stupid
or deaf
I have
Selective Hearing
Nor am I ********
that's how
I say hello
with my middle finger
I told you,
I'm not ********
***** I'm Special!
Always Me Ayeshah
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 7:15 PM UTC
When I'm alone at night
Laying in my bed
The demons come out
Attach to my head
The voices whisper
Never knowing what they said
But every time
Fill me with overwhelming dread
My body only has evil fed
And all emotions have completely fled
My grey sight
Has just turned to red
And the rage takes over
Arms turn to bull dozers
Anybody in my path will be run over
I'm a *** addict
Popping perks
Like i gatta have it
Coke in my pocket
Gotta grab it
Your ******* throat
I gotta stab it
Living in poverty
Blinded by hate
Until i can't even see
That demon i hate is me
Deep inside it breathes
Blood it needs
And death it seeks
My cheeks turn red
My head starts to spin
My mouth opens up
No words appear
Constantly trembling in fear
Knowing my death is constantly near
Pills in my pocket
Take them with beer
Start shedding tears
I spit poison
My mind is toxic
My heart is frozen
Brain with no logic
Speak without a topic
My evil is atomic
Zoned out like im bionic
My life is chronically chaotic
And i smoke until im hypnotically psychotic
Stuck in a constant fight or flight
So much dark no hope for light
The darkness has taken over my eye sight
I'm a monster
Prepare for a fright
No bark all bight
And when i attack i come with all my might
Stuck in this eternal night
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 3:30 PM UTC
It’s about the American dream
To make more than you need
Through corporate greed
And pyramid schemes,
So I guess I’m not asleep
Since I eat rice and beans
In a crummy C.F.
Apartment,
Or what’s left of that
Ten by ten compartment
I can barely afford,
Like the ******
Degree that was supposed
To reward my hard effort
By leading me toward
A corner office
Or something
Like that
I should desire,
But **** it,
Let’s get higher,
I’m getting bored,
And my heart is heavy,
And I’ve been
Forsaken
By the country that
Bred me
Yet expects me
To slap on some flak
And attack
Fathers and sons and brothers
In Iraq
Over nothing
But ideological
Fluff
And political stuffing,
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s just not worth
The time or frustration
To engage in
This nation’s
Procreation
Of condemnation
Of logical reason,
Though reasoning
Lies not in the
Eye of the reasoner
Or that of the reasoned,
It’s gotta be easier
Than achieving
Appeasement
Through please
And leasing
Thank yous
To random
Strangers,
But if
You believe
They, like you,
Are human
Then the danger
Is fleeting,
Cuz they’re feeling
The same feelings,
The sane feelings of
The chronically
Sure,
The always right,
Everything in its
Right place,
Yea I know Tommy,
I must endure
And try to say
I should try to save
The knaves,
But life’s so easy
As a slave,
You buy your
Goods
And pave the way
For impoverished hoods
And hoodwinked
Majorities
Who’ve already
Made
The sacrifices
Necessary
For the necessary
To get paid,
Hope you did some good
With that bogus bonus
Mr. Suit and tie
And perfect life
With the plastic wife
And bank account
You’ll never drain,
No matter how many
Times you make it rain
On upscale hookers,
It runs too deep
To keep all to your
Selfish selves,
But I guess it’s our
Faults we don’t wear
The leadership caps
Cuz we should’ve pulled
Ourselves up by our
******* boot straps
And made something of
Ourselves, right?
Those that deserve
To make the big bucks
Make it happen, right?
Time for the forgotten *****
to put up a fight.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:26 PM UTC
With a single
glance
you make me sweat--
your sticky breath
dances
melodically with every swagger
of your step.
You chronically
dehydrate
my thoughts--
ironically inspiring me
to bathe in refreshing
conscience streams
that are not mine.
I want to taste
the salty Sahara sands
between your toes
to feel what it's like this close
to the sun--
concealed by the burning
Shisha smoke you breathe
with such control into your soul.
For one steamy night
I want to be the wind
igniting--brightening--heightening
those burning embers in your eyes
watching you slither,
as if an ice cube touched your spine.
I want white light smiles
to scar our faces
the next morning,
disfiguring our charred
hearts--
our ashes scattered
by the wind from the burning
building we've collapsed.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 1:54 PM UTC
I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what
does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split
personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing
pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re
ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and,
as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time,
living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity;
yet we suffer so much pain.
Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed
to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued
iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies,
stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make
my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly
ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed,
through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low-
cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and
gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over-
promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all
so unsatisfied.
We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end,
like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken
up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully
stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches
@Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint
pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the
name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys,
and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply,
then superficially, without even wondering, for a
zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any
longer.
We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners,
shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of
smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while
we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over
interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives,
chronically connected and severely distracted, in
aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through
comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere
and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs
at all this, and sobs, and so do I.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC
Hey there (if you're there at all),
I sincerely hope all is well.
Guess you're really swamped with work,
honestly no need to explain, I could just tell.
See the thing is... the thing is, there is actually a thing.
Something has come up.
It's quite hard to explain cause I don't yet know what we are,
so if we are kind of a 'thing', then I want to breakup.
You don't write to me any more
and I really miss those emails
witty comments, sarcasm and ******** banter
strung together with immaculate grammar and ample clichés.
You seem to have forgotten that I didn't fall for you back then
and very little had changed since.
So three years later when you contacted me out of the blue
I was hardly convinced.
As a preplanned holiday got in our way
placing you 5 hours behind and 5000 miles apart
it was that daily email exchange over a month
which gave whatever it is we have now, its start
not calls, not facebook nor skype,
just words, simple phrases and our ability to type.
Essence of your raw personality seeped through
enticing me to a very pure, untampered version of you.
Since I returned, since we met, things haven't been the same.
Are you trying to gain the upper hand of this game?
Because, I wasn't even aware we were playing,
so technically neither can win, such a shame.
I appreciate your intellect, ambition, success
and middle class upbringing,
those random gestures of affection
and passionate **********
I understand your commitments
and the hierarchy of your priority que
But just because I get it
doesn't mean I'll agree to put up with them too.
It's true, my future is rather blurry
but that's a different thing.
I might be chronically needy
but I'm not asking you for a ring.
I do however fancy flowers
and would really like to go dancing
a daily doze of 'you're thinking of me'
topped with very large amounts of cuddling.
If all I wanted was to get laid,
there was plenty of opportunity to be swayed.
Time to end this hand has come a little too late
with a Royal Flush in Spades.
I will miss those endearing emails,
and the 12th floor of your office with its magnificent view.
I will miss the idea of having a man in my life,
but I won't so much miss you.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
Historical-ly,
Black Colleges
Have been chronically
underfunded,
unacknowledged,
Hell -
Unappreciated.
Black culture curates
Common culture.
Black coins buy
Booming business -
Black universities
Breed
Brilliance, Undeniably.
Understand
Black children
Contain unrelenting
Capacity,
Cause upheaval -
Controlled, creative
Chaos;
Coerce
Change.
History
Continues.
Heads held high -
Commemorating heroes.
Celebrating
Hope-
Bravery-
Coexistence-
Unity-
Hope-
Bravery-
Coexistence-
Unity-
Healing-Balanced-Charismatic-Unequivocal-ly
Colorful
Blackness.
Dec 23, 2022
Dec 23, 2022 at 9:01 AM UTC
We are free to use our blinkers
Or maybe not, to switch lanes
We're free to lose, of course to gain
Most give less than they share
But we all have freedom to wish, and that of despair
I need some ******* space here, people
I don't care about the extremists in that Texan steeple
I need to think, I need to know
Because apparently we're all given a chance to succeed
Chances to grow
But that's some **** I'll tell you, and the nation
Where there are chains, no one finds your liberation
You must fight for yourself
Unlike those ignorant to an outside situation
I live life as well as I can conceive
I come, and I'll go as I please
I have struggled, **** and some things done with ease
But it's hard to accept things
Stop from beginning to plead
With life, dreaming of a non-failure tattoo on my chest
Freedom of denial and maybe of access
But dreams can be illusions, rather than reality
But it's on the individual to make dreams an actuality
I've seen so many live, and I've seen too many die
But I've found the freedom to laugh loud
And I've let myself cry
But sometimes it's easy to hear,
And harder to listen
For me especially
To act after having made decision
If I hold a gun in the war of revolution
There will be freedom in war, and freedom in peace
I guess we all have things to learn
Like when to start
When to cease
I wish we could all be free some disease
Chronically in perfect health
But that's a fantasy, unlike poverty
And manipulated, mishandled wealth.
An honest politician is an idea I can't conceive
If I'm ever that powerful
Well, it'll have to start with me, I believe
Americans will find freedom from greed
And maybe jealousy, we can keep some pride
But me, just me, I don't have anything to hide.
I'll never be free from space, but maybe from time
But there's things that will happen around me:
Hunger, and crime
If I can find freedom from my body and mind
Then I'll have found what I've been trying to find
To see true colors, looking ahead, forget what's behind
Maybe there's rebirth, being of the spiritual kind
Universal freedom might be nothing left to lose,
But fighting for my freedom is the path I look to choose
The rich old white guys keep driving their Benz's
While I look at my world, my freedom
Through my $20 lenses
v.xi.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 6:15 AM UTC
i am broken and scattered across seven continents
but give me time;
just a second
to gather myself;
you’ve got me stuck in the empty spaces
between the pages that nobody talks about
and i can’t write because my fingers are broken
and my hands are so numb
and all my melodies fall flat
because i can’t spin a beautiful cloth out of
this ugly tale
nothing can thaw me;
wasn’t it yesterday that
you held my hand at a crossroads
and told me
love,
it doesn’t matter where we go
as long as i’m with you.
and the winds were harsh and my heart was cold
but i want to say you were right.
"love,
it doesn’t matter;
as long as i’m with you."
but i’m not with you
and i’m floating
because my hands have gotten used to
the cold
but my vision is blurred and i think
i’m chronically dizzy because
you probably took a piece of my mind when you left
why did you leave?
i am going through the motions,
and i am breathing again
but nothing feels real anymore
and i can’t even tell if you ever really existed.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
~
"memory runs back farther than mythology."
two years,
two months,
and two days,
in a cabin they built
near Walden Pond.
on a mission of gravity,
the heavens forming a spotlight
on centrifugal force,
abroad the hollow mind,
chronically untethered.
"I went to the woods to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms..."
this ship's captain was an architect,
but her starblazing failed
to break ground,
so this life is now a structure settled upon sand,
and way out yonder,
where there is
no blade of grass,
just weeds growing out from under the floor.
but her daughters are
grinning magnets,
passionate machines.
"copy that?...," asks Houston.
she takes a long, hard swallow,
the shadow of a bell
inspiring the astronaut in her
to shoot for incapable stars,
but the bell she hears now
is that of an alarm clock
telling her it's time to wake up:
shoulders straight.
hands free.
arms strong.
fingers stiff.
chronically untethered.
she's not looking for new days,
she is a new day,
compacted out of water,
tired of changing real estate
and showering with
other people's success.
those loud kids, her kids, play
down the hall, in the beehive.
radio jargon's on full blast too
and telling her where
to buy and sell today's instant pleasure.
she's busy now with self-stimulation,
Betty Dodson Method,
then mixing orange powder
with 100 year old whiskey
kept in the lunar module:
it's a spacewalk to eternity, faster-than-light:
she sees broken pool tables
and backyard swings.
she sees 'ordinary'
checked off on the calendar.
she sees 'happiness'
hiding in an old photo of Murphy's Camp.
she wakes to
her husband, Houston,
in a holding pattern,
she feels him moving, whispering,
and touching something
far off inside of her,
but not moored
in a specific time or place.
in search of where
she now exists
(if she even existed at all),
her memories feel artificial
in that she lacks
the emotional attachment
that comes with
actually having lived them.
there are no answers, no choices.
only reactions.
it is always going to be
that broken state of things:
these days of heaven,
chronically untethered.
"only that day dawns to which I'm awake. there is more day to dawn, I suppose. and like us, the sun is but a morning star upon being dreamed into existence..."
~
Jul 25, 2022
Jul 25, 2022 at 9:19 PM UTC
It's hard to describe how I feel;
Feelings get too much,
My head is bound and sensitive to your touch.
I am chaos in a tea-cup,
the wreckage before the storm,
and the siren before the tsunami.
Constant pain, blinds my vision,
My reality,
and I can't help it if,
You don't understand me.
Believe me, it's not e-a-sy.
I am not harmful,
But I leave a quake in the earth,
the math in the after,
the torn in the apart,
Do you think this is easy for my heart?
Chronically in pain,
I do not adjust well to others,
I become shy in the fold,
the awakening in the rude,
the disgruntled in the few,
the impatient in the *****
the erratic in the words,
the misunderstood in the gesture,
Do you you not see I am confused and unsure?
I'm intelligent enough to know this,
chronically broken apart,
I built myself back together,
the donkey in the *******
the rough in the diamond,
the sand in the cement,
the best in the very,
the for in the ever,
Do you not think I am at the end of my tether?
So chronic,
that in judgement you fail to understand,
that as many times as I have been broken,
I rebuilt myself by my own hand.
And as strong and weak as I am,
As tough as I am soft,
I offer my hand and I ask for your love.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
A paradox in itself
But then I saw her there across
the room
through flocks and flocks of 'beautiful'
silly seagulls --
frivolously flocking,
pecking at
the shiniest trash that flutters by
Only to swallow
pass
flock, peck again
--------------------------------------------------------------
She intrigued my mind
through
the eye I saw her beak was flat y
no craning,
crooning neck l
and could not f
for she had no wings
... maybe we do not care to fly!
--------------------------------------------------------------
Like the Red Sea
She-Moses split through the flock
to me,
beakless
surrounded by chronically cocking faces
all but one,
all alone
She had been too
-------------------------------------------------------------
Now next to me
No wandering eye could care
in soundless conversation
proclaimed we
are together
as one we surely gleamed as gold
too bright for gulls to see
...Mastur-consolation?
-------------------------------------------------------------
And so it's true
we were alone
together
perfect paradoxical bliss
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
Fingerpress folds of pain
Along the spine,
And a flare of agony
As she activates pituitary.
Ovaries are dull-achy
A pleasant, grit-teethy pain.
Keep on with your caterpillar walk, pretty lady,
Making me wince, but in a really good way.
Big toe bruisy feel,
Crunchy in the heel,
Colon is swollen,
Adrenals, as always,
Chronically inflamed.
The right foot
is happier than the left,
Why is that?
I don't discriminate
But leftie sulks, for some reason,
Hurtier than sprightly right.
Afterwards, drink lots of water,
Have a good cry, and go to bed.
Renew yourself, through sleep,
Just like she said.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
The
trailblazers
hellraisers want to learn to fly, but first must learn to try and not begrudge the birds their wings or beaks or things.
It's each to his own and birds have flown for centuries
while man looked on quite jealously,
until
Wilbur and Orville an unlikely looking pair, built a weird looking craft that flew into the air
and there the story lies.
Man
no longer separated from the skies but flying catatonic,supersonic,chronically intoxicated by machines that he's created.
It will all come to pass that when we run out of kerosene and natural gas,
we'll recognise that flying free is but a dream and then we'll see that wings are meant for birds
and no amount of whirlygigs,tornadoes,migs can change the fact
that we were made to walk.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
Am I feeling better now?
Estranged and Deranged, not a single person sitting there to call my name
Am I feeling better now?
Alone in my chest, in my home, in my art, I express from the bottom of my heart, there's a draught letting in the emotional winds
Feeling any better now?
Not much else left to say as I spill it all out with the pen on the page, chronically feeling on the edge, if this is a window I've jumped off the ledge.
Feel much better now, now it's all vented out, all I've ranted about, no time for self-doubt. I've got a life to live and too much to give to give out, on a single whim.
I guess that's the thing, behind the façade, I'm still him, still that guy, still the one, still the same, still the same... As the guy I was when we first dated, when we first kissed, hoping that we'll come back from this.
Guess I still have to grow up..
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 5:44 PM UTC
Everyone wants to be accepted
But no one wants to be loved.
Accepting every attribute about a person
and not discerning right from wrong,
Cannot be loving.
"Oh I'm accepted, I must be loved"
But that kind of acceptance is out of fear of not being accepted in return.
To allow a person to self destruct either acutely or chronically
cannot be considered an act of love.
Love can be a constructive criticism
or a soft spoken word.
But if someone really loves,
they will not hinder the truth even if it hurts.
everyone wants to be accepted,
no one wants to be loved,
Because the world has redefined the true meaning of love.
Aug 14, 2022
Aug 14, 2022 at 7:24 AM UTC
Having been referred to on multiple occasions as being “depressed”, I am offended. Every time. Having a chronically macabre state of mind and being drawn to a melancholy atmosphere and writing does not make one depressed. Or a psychopath. It does not mean a person is on a journey to being a serial killer or committing suicide. Some people, such as myself, just happen to find comfort in things deep and meaningful. While some comedy, joy, and love is to be revered and enjoyed more sparingly the sad, twisted, and horrid truths of the world can uphold a better sense of completion, joy, and love. This does not make one depressed or mentally ill but perhaps just more...... thoughtful.
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 8:55 AM UTC
Crescendos and arpeggios alleviate the pressing
of residual enfilades of harmonies created,
raising the frequencies of thee.
.
Primordially placing seeds in the fertile heath
wandering with Orion's lead.
Sirius B'eing chronically appealing.
.
Our tranquility will rely on the apogees of the moon
and the crescendos of our eternal music.
A belaying maestro raising our moods with diction.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 8:52 AM UTC
Amiss! Amiss! Amiss!
Something is chronically amiss
With my beloved country
Spiritually and physically rich
But apparently presented as poor
Billions of our money given wings
Like hawks that disappear
Soon after chicks are forcibly stolen
Trillions stashed down the drains
To fertilize parched lands
Where hussies and gigolos live
Plants of greed
Nursed and nurtured by the elite
A few insatiable pigs
That profess religion
But know not God
Mothers strive to outdo fathers
I weep, I weep, I weep profusely
But there is none to console me
And now my heart has a new guest uninvited
A nagging excruciating pain
Would I pass on weeping
With no solace coming?
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 10:11 PM UTC
There were
Words upon a page
Written chronologically.
Chronically illogical
Logically impossible
Possibly an anomaly
And that would be
Phenominal
"The fate of failures, is perfection"
Attempts at great
Aren't practical
Without practice
Wrong turns had to be made
To find a new world
Order a new atlas
Errors addressed
At last
We find where to go
Because of someone's
Shortcomings
Trials
I err
Human is what I prefer
It's a blessing
My preference
For learning my life lessons
Is by living
Yes, I listen
But I'm missing the point
I have perfect vision
But Im def-
Finitely trying to zero in
Do you hear me?
Or at least see
Where I'm coming from
Nothing
The only option is more
If I plunder then fall
I'll spring
Before summer
Without having cold feet
Cowardice
Never climbed mountains
But a wise guy
Kept his toes
And still walks
The open road
Success
Is but a mile a way
My failures
Are just footprints
It's easy
To see
Where I tripped
But know
I never tripped
About it
When I reach
What seems to be
Overnight success
Just know
How you see me
Is the night before
And it took me
Ten thousand miles
To get to this
Opened door
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:59 PM UTC
Misty dreams flow shimmering through empty catacombs.
Floating effortlessly, the galaxy I see blows straight through me.
Above and all around, you gotta go up in order to get down.
Twisting visions morph into view.
I cast them aside with the wave of my hand.
Shadows cast upon the wall,
you never know they're there at all.
Spiteful demons invoking chant,
laughing hysterically as you fall.
I can simply pass through the wall.
Dissolving dimensions of your matter, within me.
I can consume your eternity,
Know that I know you like no one else knows you.
Hide your eyes, it's no surprise.
The tangible world filled with your lies.
I pay no head to the convulsive cries.
There is no need, for all things die.
© Crystal Erickson 5/19/08
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
My heart beats in your chest
Twists and turns within you
The words that leave your lips
Heavier than the mountains
So I care less about universe
When you're my axis of rotation
Those eyes can sear the skies
Killing the world in a beam
You are a hurricane unleashed
I never stood a chance in life
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC