"confer" poems
*Further my mind goes, than I believed it could fathom
Fathoms below even the deceased dreams chasm
Impassionately growing through and between atoms
To learn
There is no whole truth in solely words
Blindfolded, if your mind isn't where the memory occurs
So it's sure
We'll never understand more than we're capable to confer
And it doesn't mean, you can't relate to the way I toss n' turn
In my sleep
That it isn't the same color we bleed
Or that we aren't perhaps equally 'deep'
Just that we hold some nature of privacy in our thoughts, from any other's gaze
Did I mention it was books of seperate authors, though we're on the same page?
What I wish to relate today
Is I have been changing to date
I'm breaking, down just like anyone else
Draining my health
Enslaved by the chase of wealth
Smiling while we're high, but we'll retreat to our personal hells
The honesty is, I'm scared to delve into myself
Because I know where my truth gets ugly, and has no glamour
Not the 30 second commercial version of what it's like living with cancer
It's habits, actions and manner
Looming over my pride
Leaving a weakness in my stride
Making me feel tired before I've tried*
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
From the BBC today,
Excerpt
Why does Taylor Swift write so many one-note melodies?
"It's easy to get distracted by her celebrity, but Taylor Swift is a once-in-a-generation songwriter. From the very beginning, she's displayed a knack for melody and storytelling that most artists never master.
Take, for example, her first US number one, OUR SONG
Written for a high school talent show, it's a fairly typical tale of teenage romance until the final lines: "I grabbed a pen / And an old napkin / And I wrote down our song."
That's smart, self-assured songwriting for someone who wasn't old enough to vote. Notably, the lyrics insert the musician directly into the narrative - something she developed into a tried and tested trope.
But Our Song also establishes another of Taylor's trademarks: The one-note melody.
Excerpt
Repetitive melodies that centre around a single note are part of that appeal. They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech.
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
Rebuttal
Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics. They can relate to your song but if they cannot sing it themselves putting themselves in the 'first-person perspective narrative' they cannot feel as-if they have BECOME the artist and are living that moment as they remember it. Taylor Swift sings about teenage love and angst something EVERYONE ON EARTH understands.
ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG.
Cadences are singing statements that confer a discipline and unity.
Song acts as a catharsis. The artist shares their pain in a way that is universally understood. If you want to sell a rock, literally a pebble, you will not sell it if it doesn't look like a rock. If it doesn't do what rocks do. If it is not what people remember a rock to be like. Nor will it sell if it is just like every other rock they have ever seen. It cannot convey an emotion unless it elicits emotion.
One cannot even begin to feel emotional if one cannot remember easily the past and that includes lyrics one has heard that evoked said emotional state.
It is horrifying to see HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS that rhyme be obliterated in exchange for an intellectual or individual perspective NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE.
If you want to sell and make money you better start thinking about the 99% of people who are not geniuses.
If your sole goal in life is to attract a genius to give you a great job because of how, "smart," they perceive you to be then fine.
You are not an artist.
You are an employee.
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
Thrice Times Great. ⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ
BECOME
EVERYONE ON EARTH
ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG
HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS
NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE
HOW BAD
artist?
or employee?
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
this swifter's grift -
lifting loosely
fitted accoutrement
lourden fruit
carelessly held
silkened, gimlet lit
shamelessly rivened
to a paler shade
of need.
solitude's
enchanting seed
may confer
a grander banquet’s call
but, this tug of
grandiloquent oblige
and politesse . . .
master and slave consort
black and scarlet
swift of tongue and fingertip
unbound so neatly
and leather blind
tell me muse of the anger flesh on fire
is there really dignity in defeat
that eludes the victor
tell me muse of the truth in nature
ill-graced tail-lamp broken
is destiny all ways ordained in contradiction
tell me muse do hearts all times submit
to the beacon call
shyness long forgotten
narrative so harshly written
as ne'er before
with an insistence
ageless yearnings bellow
as but glazened shadow
if reason sleeps
there will be no learning
no refuge
only to each
for their crimes
a four-chambered riddle
All Rights Reserved
James R. Morse, NYC 2013.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 7:05 PM UTC
737
The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
A Night or two ago—
And now she turns Her perfect Face
Upon the World below—
Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde—
Her Cheek—a Beryl hewn—
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known—
Her Lips of Amber never part—
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer
Were such Her Silver Will—
And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star—
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace Door—
Her Bonnet is the Firmament—
The Universe—Her Shoe—
The Stars—the Trinkets at Her Belt—
Her Dimities—of Blue—
3.7k
Underneath a silhouette of stars
We confer futuristic forecasts
your skin blends with the ivory outline
of the constellation that envelopes our bodies.
Heard was the echo of
such an ever so pleasant sound
‘twas the rustling of sheets
to the rhythm of the rain
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
Gold and silver battle *****
torn from swords saddles and crosses
lying beneath a farmer's field
tributes to kings and bellicose gods.
Fierce birds of prey snakes fish and bears
framed in filigree geometry
guarded warriors' savage souls.
No mercy in Mercia.
Archeologists anthropologists
historians librarians
curators and consertvators
collect confer and classify
while I just try to connect.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
1349
I’d rather recollect a setting
Than own a rising sun
Though one is beautiful forgetting—
And true the other one.
Because in going is a Drama
Staying cannot confer
To die divinely once a Twilight—
Than wane is easier—
3.5k
552
An ignorance a Sunset
Confer upon the Eye—
Of Territory—Color—
Circumference—Decay—
Its Amber Revelation
Exhilirate—Debase—
Omnipotence’ inspection
Of Our inferior face—
And when the solemn features
Confirm—in Victory—
We start—as if detected
In Immortality—
2.8k
440
’Tis customary as we part
A trinket—to confer—
It helps to stimulate the faith
When Lovers be afar—
’Tis various—as the various taste—
Clematis—journeying far—
Presents me with a single Curl
Of her Electric Hair—
2.4k
(Ezekiel, xxxvi. 25-28)
The Lord proclaims His grace abroad!
"Behold, I change your hearts of stone;
Each shall renounce his idol-god,
And serve, henceforth, the Lord alone.
"My grace, a flowing stream, proceeds
To wash your filthiness away;
Ye shall abhor your former deeds,
And learn my statutes to obey.
"My truth the great design ensures,
I give myself away to you;
You shall be mine, I will be yours,
Your God unalterably true.
"Yet not unsought or unimplored,
The plenteous grace I shall confer;
No -- your whole hearts shall seek the Lord,
I'll put a praying spirit there.
"From the first breath of life divine
Down to the last expiring hour,
The gracious work shall all be mine,
Begun and ended in my power."
2.3k
St. Margaret's bells,
Quiring their innocent, old-world canticles,
Sing in the storied air,
All rosy-and-golden, as with memories
Of woods at evensong, and sands and seas
Disconsolate for that the night is nigh.
O, the low, lingering lights! The large last gleam
(Hark! how those brazen choristers cry and call!)
Touching these solemn ancientries, and there,
The silent River ranging tide-mark high
And the callow, grey-faced Hospital,
With the strange glimmer and glamour of a dream!
The Sabbath peace is in the slumbrous trees,
And from the wistful, the fast-widowing sky
(Hark! how those plangent comforters call and cry!)
Falls as in August plots late roseleaves fall.
The sober Sabbath stir--
Leisurely voices, desultory feet!--
Comes from the dry, dust-coloured street,
Where in their summer frocks the girls go by,
And sweethearts lean and loiter and confer,
Just as they did an hundred years ago,
Just as an hundred years to come they will:--
When you and I, Dear Love, lie lost and low,
And sweet-throats none our welkin shall fulfil,
Nor any sunset fade serene and slow;
But, being dead, we shall not grieve to die.
2.2k
never knew it,
never was I self-percepted,
that anything exceptional,
lay within, neither obvious
or dormant, was just an ordinary
if not, extra-ordinary pained
child by peers and my surrounders
and my own words yet today,
do not confer any distinction
when yours irradiate me into
a stunned and silenced reverie,
a reminder, a minder, that talent
recognizes no laws of equilibrium,
equality, and certainty not, equity
so I read with shocked, shocked, I tell you,
bemusement but comprehensive perception
when the young and extra~special confide,
their own misperceptions, overwhelmed by
the anxiety
of the billions of sky stars, and letters in their
twinkling orbs when forming identifiable comets with tagalong
dust trails^ of the debris of words that are formed by
their travels and travails on orbits
not necessarily predetermined
by gravitational adult pulleys, a gravity upon
their projected, sometimes directed,
sometimes not,
trajectory
*"and yet, though an orbit is a type of trajectory,
not all trajectories are orbits"*
nor are
*"some comets, particularly
those from outside our solar system,
that move so fast that the Sun's gravity
is not strong enough to capture them
into a closed orbit*
*These comets follow an open, curved path
through the solar system and then
continue on into interstellar space,
never to be seen again*"
so be advised,
as you reassemble the debris from the multi~universe,
when assembling your owned,
unique~verse,
create your tail
and trail,
the futurity
of you is to be both
silent and loud,
absorbing and disgorging,
to awed and to be humbled,
by all that and those who went before,
all once younger and talented,
and knew this self-same anxiety,
but never let the fearing of their
the mystery of plotting of their
path
deter them
from exploring the skies and deep mines of the
sea trenches where undiscovered mysteries
abide
<nml>
4:59am
in the city where one can never see the
light of the stars,
particularly
by their owners
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 7:25 AM UTC
The wanderer follows
No hallowed path
Set forth for her
By the sagacious few.
Nor does she live
To build her past
For far off futures
Whose seeds are sewn.
No familiar face
Has she ever seen
That greets her where
She decides to sleep
But travels with
The wind in her hair:
The only companion
She chooses to keep.
All empires return
To dust that birthed
Them from the nothingness
Of barren ground,
And push the ambitious
To build them tall
For fleeting futures
On foundations unsound.
Such men still laugh
At one like her
Who possesses nothing
In their eyes,
And lives in chaos
Of shifting destiny
With no respect
For human lies.
But no future goal
Controls her fate
Nor worldly tethers
Bind her past
So she is free
To contemplate
Her relation to
The earth so vast.
She is the dust
from God’s fingers
that’s fallen on
Ungrateful land
And shows the blind
And sinful people
Their origin from
The present at hand.
They deride and mock
Or at best ignore her
And value what God
Did not confer
But she is more
than the earth and sky
And none can take
What belongs to her.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 6:55 PM UTC
who will run
gauntlet fierce
scythe held high
through thicket thorns
emerge alive
stay sane
hours fuse to
decades spent
begging bird song
soothe dispel
savage sordid
scenes
crows confer
callous cold
steal each fractured day
as suffocation
stymies step
yet he walks free
not one escaped
each tender bud
torn in turns
as all around
walked on by
blind to ****
are all afraid
mesmerized
by podium power
pious privilege
feigned
masking sleight of hand
will someone stand
despite the odds
counter hallowed hall
covert thugs' threats
of slow death
if we tell
who can dare
scarred mirror asks
shatter code hushed
defy hypnotic trance
risk life and limb
to speak
or has their curse
rendered lame
those not killed
left to bleed
alone in shadows'
listless lanes
eyes stare
probe, confront
in mirror fogged
I wipe them dry
distraught no flame remains
I can sustain
to fuel the fight
and stagger on
through forest blaze
of justice failed
as cries of children
sear the night
while
he
still
breathes
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
Between the hands, between the brows,
Between the lips of Love-Lily,
A spirit is born whose birth endows
My blood with fire to burn through me;
Who breathes upon my gazing eyes,
Who laughs and murmurs in mine ear,
At whose least touch my colour flies,
And whom my life grows faint to hear.
Within the voice, within the heart,
Within the mind of Love-Lily,
A spirit is born who lifts apart
His tremulous wings and looks at me;
Who on my mouth his finger lays,
And shows, while whispering lutes confer,
That Eden of Love’s watered ways
Whose winds and spirits worship her.
Brows, hands, and lips, heart, mind, and voice,
Kisses and words of Love-Lily,—
Oh! bid me with your joy rejoice
Till riotous longing rest in me!
Ah! let not hope be still distraught,
But find in her its gracious goal,
Whose speech Truth knows not from her thought
Nor Love her body from her soul.
1.9k
I see a country
Where the art of ******** reigns supreme, I see an ethical ship that's sinking
But I'm too focused on my future to worry about these stagnant 'leaders' and their backward way of thinking
I see a nation that is in a race, that could be sprinting, instead what we're doing is limping
They sell us out to the highest bidder, I see what they are doing...it's pimping
And they claim it's illegal...
I see a monkey..
Swinging from tree to tree
That monkey being a representation of you and me
Swinging off and grabbing at branches
In search of that ever illusive 'opportunity'
I see pimping
I see a society encouraged to operate in unity
But, while we confer
I see our 'pimp' exercise that 'divide and conquer'
They say, what doesn't **** you makes you stronger
I concur, that we are
But I ask, for how much longer?
I see a leadership that chooses to see whatever it wants to see
One that is supposed to mirror me, but in it, there is no reflection of mine I happen to see
I see a leader that seems to want to do right by us
Surrounded by leutenants that seem to be encouraging him to drive right by us
And not see
I see a lot of cracks in the way they are running this state and it's obvious
I pray that I may be forgiven for stating the obvious.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
Being male, I wander
Mom dares not wonder
What kind of monsters she birthed
She brought her own equipment
I was aggressive but shy
Her womb is the most magnificent
Temple I’ve ever visited
There is nowhere else I want to be
Sister insisted
I stiffened then gave in
Children tease, squeal, scamper
Adults know unspeakable reality
Dizziness of first love
Mayhem, ******
Solemn whisper of infinity
After an uncertain age,
No one wants you anymore
Old women bond
Confer their anger
Old men tread alone
She knew from moment he laid eyes on her, she had him. She wore no make-up, anemic complexion, chin and jawline slightly broken out with red spots, cobalt blue irises, aquiline nose, hair dyed dark, fuzz-balled scarf, light blue fluffy sweater, big buttons, canvas shoulder bag, skinny jeans, leather boots, little boney black dog with ashen appointments. Instantly he fell in love. He confessed, “Your Chinese Crested pup stole my heart.”
In *********** position, neither lover sees other’s face. The top sees backside. The bottom sees what? He didn’t know.
She unlocks the door. He enters room. She tells him what to do, making demands. He follows her orders. She questions, “Why do we dance to these tunes?” He answers, “I want to smell your smells, **** drink your darkest juices.” She articulates, “Stay,” then kisses him goodbye. She wakes wearing his ring, around her neck. They are each other’s slaves. Ceiling leaks, floor creaks, light beams through window as they waltz arm in arm.
She demands, “I want roast rack of lamb, or thinly sliced Serrano ham on buttered toast for dinner. And then I want to go home alone. I need some down time, away from you. I don’t belong to you, ********* Deep in financial debt, he hands the waiter his debit card.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
Within the forms of the ledges and ridges,
threads of the feeble breezes tried to confer
and draw forth, as their explanation, an
acceptance through traveling with companions
who did not reject the powers of conversation,
held within the scenery and handed across
without any alarm or voice of awakened
hostility. The rejection was strong enough to
stay in sight as the hovering screech of the
necessary owl. Watching the bird, the
creature of the steps above the spiral arm
seemed to be at liberty to discover the gentle
voices swirling through the mist. While the
division of the stars proceeded to wash the
scaffold free of a slow moving controversy,
the remaining voices presented rambling
rings and the stripes of planets. It was late in
the evening. Swirling spots remained to be
counted, an expense that provided sustenance
to families of flowers and the wafted powers
of pollen as seeds with mechanical metal
threaded between one nebula and the next.
The waves tossed a small barn up onto the edge
of the mountain but used reassuring words to
surround the animals allowing them to travel
comfortably. Conversation usually included any
of the stars that were emerging from the
entertainment field. These had been packed,
carefully, with the necessary, spare parts and
albums filled with memories in photographs.
Frequent glances wore a familiar trail between
the shelter and the edge where moss cascaded
like rivers of joy moving among the banks of
grass, carrying the hulls, like fish, through
channels into the city. Acutely reminded that
serious people would be encountered before the
ages ended, the mice were nice and did not
tempt the birds into flights and attacks. The
exception to this was hunger which ruled the
loyalty of the rodent population. Any, of the
gathering, with reddish fur cast a shadow down
the stairway lit, as it always had been, from the
tremendous stellar flights that were lost, as
sparks above the dark chimney, the matter in
charge of all convection for a reasonable and
eternal distance into the mine.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
Cook King
Cooking is my yoga
It’s so transcending
When I’m in my kitchen
I am a cook king
When I’m cooking
I sing, dance and whistle
I’m always in my element
Cooking in my castle
Peeling, chopping
A sprinkle and a stir
It’s the rhythm of my realm
Palate and scents confer
When I’m cooking
I’m one happy man
I love feeding my kingdom
With plenty for the clan
Cooking came natural
Born within my bones
I’m always in the kitchen
More than on my throne
By: Bill MacEachern
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC
Days are dark, nights lay long,
Burning bridges keep us warm.
Wearily walking this road again
We bare the weight of the tinder,
The whispers and the flame.
What was once,
Shall never be the same.
The past floats as ash
Shadows cast on fallen rain.
While the willows weep in vain
The canopies confer in koans
The wind is passing wisdom,
Through leaves and seeds unsown.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
Please repay me
My childhood!
I want to listen
My lost assonance in my mother’s enunciation!
To refresh myself with melody of eternity!
Please bestow me
My childhood!
I want collect dew from the leaf!
To amass nature’s blessing!
Please confer me
My childhood!
I want to flee my kite to perpetuity and
mist in the hallowed invisibility!
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
A baby boy shuts his eyes and sees
bull continents drift,
collide, startle, spin around.
Prehistoric bucks suddenly accusing-
(Did YOU just back into ME?)
They jam head-to-head,
gouge, reconcile, then confer.
The boy likes what he sees.
The beasts get down to business.
They iron out earth's future
with special bellows, & lots of musk.
Above this caucus
of nodding, naying heads,
clacking antlers mesh
into a burgeoning thicket.
He calls for more!
The thicket shudders,
sprouts into a dagger forest.
It shoots up recklessly,
like a baby's legs,
and jabs the sky
with young ideas:
New species, struggles, lies.
Whole societies in the air,
too busy to teach their children
about the bellowing below.
The weight of so much life is too much.
There is a final SNAP
of prehistoric backs.
Not a grain remains on which to carve
the memory of all the things
that passed before this boy's eyes.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 2:19 AM UTC
Thrice-Strung Judges, Thirty Pieces you Shout
Be that Iscariot or Ally you relay
How the Once-Loved Prince now the Blubbered Pout
Has sent me to Interest another Fey
So it seems a Pillow for the Sullen
Whom by Lines saw no End to this Debate -
Which Petal weans; Or scratches Tears fallen
Least charge one's Sanity before its too Late
The Wheel was Right. Through Change Strength will confer
And sign assurance Monopoly disown
For Saner Men; And Women leaves Fresher
Let each bare Happiness bid for Reknown.
How Wonderous be, this Marble whirls for Love,
Then Season the Troll; Then Sever the Dove.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
MaaaaaaaaaannnNNN !!!!!
I DON’T ... Give A **** !!!!!!
People over here ….
Like to …. " Pass The Buck " …
" Problems " ... Now ... APPEAR
cos most ... Live in ... " FEAR " ... !!!!!
But …
Fear's ... NOT MY PROBLEM ... !!!
My Position is ... " CLEAR " … !!!
I Know what i'm doing ... !!!
but … young people are ... Moving …
Like … New Born Deer ... !!!
Many Can't ... " stand up " ... !!!
But STILL …. They Sup ...
On ... EVERY kind of ...
Beer ... They're Near … !!!
Then come to work ...
and ... “ POSTURE ” …
with vision ....
Still ... uNcLEaR … !!!
Systems ... THIS ... !!!!
and …. Systems ... THAT ... !!!!
These Fools nowadays ...
REALLY ... Talk some ... CRAP … !!!!
They're Lucky because …..
I’m ... Tall and Black ....
because …. If I was … ???
A ... " Top Flight White " …
BELIEVE … Fo' REAL … !!! …
They Would get ... "TRAPPED" … !!!!
They'd get ... Directed …
OFF ... The Map … !!!!!
With … No Way for them ...
To ... Come Back … !!!! …
I say this stuff ….
cos' work is ... ROUGH ... !!!
when dealing with ...
These chicks and chaps ….
I hear these things ...
These days on ... Trains ...
It seems that others ...
Feel ... " The Drain " ...
of colleagues ... who ...
Can't Take ... THE STRAIN … !!!!
But are ... THE FIRST ...
to ... Dish Out Blame ... !?!
for problems ... THEY ...
Put in ... " The Frame " ...
They take this work thing ...
for a ..... " Game " ..... !?!
When Business Deals ...
GO UP ... in flames ... !!!
They look ...
" Bemused " … ? …
Now …
Ain't that ... LAME … !!!
Now ... if my name ...
was ... David Blaine ...
These people ... wouldn't ...
look the same ... !!!!! ...
They'd be like ... " Clint " ....
WITHOUT ... A Name ...
while I would ... " Drift " .................
To Those .... " High Plains " ....
and there is ... " Where " ...
I would ... RETAIN …
My ... Peace of Mind ...
CLEAR OF ... The blind ...
who try to put me ....
In a .... " BIND " ....
With ... ANY EXCUSE …
That they can ... " Find " ... ?!?
to ... CLEAR THEMSELVES ...
Leaving me .... behind ....
Well …. !!!!!
This is where …...
They Should ... BEWARE … !!!!!
My tactics are …
" Refined " ... like wine ...
NOT ... to drink ... !!!
But for ... THIS LINK ...
My train of thought …
Shows that ... I THINK … !!!
on how to leave them …
On The …. BRINK …. !!! ….
NOT … On The Virge ... !!!!!!!
Cos' that's for me ...
to ... Lyrically Splurge …
" Poetic Words " ....
that ... DEFINE ... " The Truth " ...
to … “FOOLISH HERDS" … !!!
cos' ...
Moves they make ...
Define .... “ABSURD” …. !!!?!!!
My Vision's ... CLEAR ... !!!
While there's is .....
" blurRRrrrrrEDD !!!! "
So ....
with these words ...
Do You ... " Concur " ... ???
or has ... The Piece ...
Left you like …..
D'EerrrrrrrRRRRRR …. ???!!???
I'll give you time ....
So ... Please Confer … !!!
This is ... " My Challenge " ...
Try to ... Balance ...
“PROBLEMS” … that ...
You face ... at work ...
cos' working with ….
" Blame Culture " ... Berks ...
Could …. Like the ... " Chicken " ...
Leave you ... ****** … !!!!! ...
While these ... " Smart Alecks " ...
………….. “PANIC” ………… !!!!!!!!!!!!!
And then ... " Hit The Street " ...
Just like .... " THE MANICS " …. !!!!!
This piece for me …..
Has been …. “ TITANIC ” …. !!!!!
Like the … STRUGGLES ...
In my job …. Because ….
My Colleagues ...
are ... “MESSED UP” ... !!!!!
Folks …. This is why ...
I write ... This Stuff ... !!! …
To ... STOP ME …. " Slappin' " ....
SOME FOOL ... UP ... !!! ...
Who tried to say ....
“Big Virge Messed Up ” ….
When ... TRUTH IS ….
Their work's …
ALWAYS ... " DUFF ” ... !!!!!
which is why ... " They Try " ...
to ... " COVER THEIR **** " ...
Thinking ... that they're ... SMART ... ?!?
and so ...
are quick to …
" Pass The Buck " ...
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
She touches me and knows not why and that frightens her.
She's the only one that can make me cry, so she wonders.
How can I let her know I'm no threat just an admirer.
I only wish to touch her kaleidoscope heart as when friends confer.
Yet she watches me from a distance and that distance she keeps.
The longer she stays away the harder my battered soul weeps.
I have no dark motive nor any sinister plans.
Even if I desired, I could never be what she demands.
I guess convincing her of this is completely out of my hands.
So in the darkess corner of her mind is where I'll remain...is where I'll stand.
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC