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preservationman Apr 2014
Have I got a story for you?
Let me tell you about this pursue
Ms. Piggy and ****** hooked up
They went out on a date
However the Chef suggested that Ms. Piggy should be on a plate
****** explained to the Chef Ms. Piggy was his date
Ms. Piggy responded to the Chef, “Are you sure you can relate as I am Ms. Piggy and you are not Pretty Ricky”
The Chef then dashed away
Ms. Piggy and ****** continued on having their togetherness in say
Ms. Piggy wanted a little wine with her dine
But ****** had something else in mine
Well Ms. Piggy got a little tipsy
She was acting more like the Queen of the Gypsies
Ms. Piggy started drinking out of her shoe
****** felt like Ms. Piggy was turning him into stew
The music was playing and Ms. Piggy demanded a dance
****** wanted to hook up in a romance
Ms. Piggy was so drunk
Her mind must was on stomp
Later Ms. Piggy called ****** a chump
That is when the fight broke out
Ms. Piggy and ****** began to shout
Dancing became in your face
Ms. Piggy’s anger I can’t erase
The whole evening became a date from hell in the trace
Ms. Piggy told ****** she was an important lady
****** shouted, “Only maybe baby”
Ms. Piggy told ****** good-bye
****** went his way in comply.
MUPPET OF PLAY MUST HAVE THEIR WAY
The gifted ruler May 2017
God ****** God ****** God ****** depression is  a *****, like why TF this **** gotta sneak up on me like this, **** I'mma go to bed and not sleep I guess I'll lay with my lonesome till 3am and listen to my heart beat while I think ignoring the voices in my head telling me things like i’d be better off dead like as if despite  the fact I wish my ticker would stop ticking
But it won't, I wish I could c u t my own heart out with a knife but that's sounds boring so I dont I wish a niger could cry a nigers burdens away  but a.nigg*rs tear ducts are dry so I guess ill roll a joint and burn it away and then when I run out I'll break out the razors is in a slice in a way that will make the sane wonder how but what the **** is it to you who are you to say that I'm important to you who are you to say that I'm a lovely human being just ****.off please, i didn't ask your assistance no offense just leave me to my being because I disagree I wish you would ask me if I thought that I was as important I wish you'd ask me if I thought I was lovely cuz I'd say no I'm autistic trash and to me that **** is ugly cuz despite what I can do I can't do most of it ******* I thought I was a man, well I guess I was born with most of it I just want to ******* die no letter no notes no reasons why cuz I told you when I told you then I told you again did you think that was a lie  you must have presumed that it's a cry for attention are you out of your ******* mind don't worry its okay to make the jokes it doesn't hurt at all it's okay to mock me it doesn't phase a bit,  but I guess you will you  learn to shut your ******* mouth when you find my body its wrist slit  but I guess it's kind of my fault because I smile every time they ask me if I'm fine god ****** god ****** god ****** Depression is a ***** like why the **** this **** got to sneak up on me like this
a poem about depression
Benjamin Oct 2014
i dont want to think about you
yet i do
again and again
you swarm through my brain
stinging every little crowded vein
until you take away my sight
taking every little bit of fright
from me
i dont like to speak of you
but i do
youve bought a condo on my tongue
with a clear view of my speech
and i see nothing more through the windows of my eyes
than the back of your head
and it hurts
i dont want to know you.
Lisa Mendoza Apr 2016
familiar claws opened
my chest revealing a heart
that only knows how to beat
for him, only for him, for years,
god ****** it has been 3 years
already, ******, ******, ******,
and its pointy nails punctured
my lungs until it deflated entirely, i
cursed as my throat clogged up and
god ****** i can't breathe and his
eyes watched the blood trail from
his hand while mine went blurry
when tears began brimming up
more and more, each tear escaping
my lids and god ****** i can't
believe the only thing i can think
of before i coughed my last breath
was how ******* beautiful he was in
his white t-shirt that remained cleaned
L.m., you killed me again tonight
zebra Sep 2018
have you ever seen beauty in a silky nightmare
have you  ever seen the monster of deprivation in heavens promise?

we speak of private things
we should never talk about
about vailed women
and their terrible secrets
and about myself who remains no longer a secret to myself

somewhere i went off the track
like a  daisy chain saw of honesty
to ensure you knew i was sick
a sick **** with a trick
as if i ate some ****** up hallucinogenic' s
making me spill my obsessions all over you
like some weird perfumed *****
down a swirling rainbow toilet
that turns out to be only jelly and whipped cream
wrapped in colored ribbons on cellophane tampons

i feel like  having *** or going to the toilet in public
while waving my hands up in the air
screaming yahoo i'm free
to blow to kingdom come
the temple of normalcy
you know
the church of rose gardens, cemeteries and deprivations
except of course for the sneers, smears
and self loathing vanilla demons
who wear long see through dresses and crosses
like dash board plastic virgins
with bobbing heads
that make hissing sounds about sin

i confess
i'm attracted to the darkest women
strange *******
and  ******
the stranger the better
who shake their butts
like hoodoo enchanted show girls
doing what they shouldn't do
crying and scrying like cooing moons calling
"drink me like ****** Mary
daddy **** lollypop"
all inky tats and razorblade ouchies

or
you can join those
covered in white collared black as death habits
begging the invisible *** cake in paradise
waiting for mercy and a little ****
that never comes
stuck in an empty
loveless bar of crucifixes that only serves up theology

oh baby
***** dreams do come true
pink ****** ***** gladly widen their haunches
like **** without boots
not caring if they go to hell
playin
like a joy ride of fiddle **** sticks
all freaky tongues and tingling licks
thick saliva multi lingual blow jobs
lathering flashing lipped saliva for the squirt  
with fiery wet hypodermic kisses
that make screams
like creamed upleaping lava and ash
for a million hungry sexed up twisting tongues
in occult ecstasy
fecundating shrouds of steamy clouds
in stained red black lighted rooms
with cherub crowned *****
and their drooling snatches buttered ****

eat quivering
like fowl mouthed piranhas
crying more raw meat please
while you drag your perfect person visage
into hollow caves of despair
cold and lonely

so you forlorn love struck weeping
horney pathetic scarecrow
socially engineered robots
if you want love
like heated buttery waffles with sweet jam
just give your self away like slutty putty
to lust criminals and *** addicted pervs  
until
you feel someone swallow you whole
soul and all
and lick their lips
like your their cherry pie

then look passed your
rats nest of pride and exhaustive approval list
and love them back
like free beer
bang their brains out
be their slave and make them yours
in the mad house of love
of warped shimmering mirrors, straight jackets, and squeezy insertions

and if one day they don't appreciate your imperfect perfection
if they weaponize like critic's
teach them respect
shove it where they breathe
lick your wounds
be brave
throw them in the trash bin of history
and move on

Eros and Venus
take a million forms

look around
your swimming in a giant bowl of broken hearts
hungry mouths, drenched ***** and hard *****

you whimpering little beasts
dress to ****
undress to live

its a movable feast
advice to the lovelorn young
thank you to Lora Lee for the line
" swirling toilet rainbows"
Cyril Blythe Aug 2012
I assured myself again that I was completely alone. Gingerly, I sat on the corner of her popcorn-and-perfume-scented bed and allow my tingling fingers to reach out and open that sacred journal again to page one. I never really understood it but maybe if I read it one more time. “Things I Wish I Never Knew:

1. People are selfish almost always.

2. Shaking hands does matter. ******.

3. Wine hangovers are miserable.

4. Puppies **** behind things ‘cause they feel guilty; you wont find it until it smells.

5. Friends really do come and go.

6. Neti Pots absolutely **** and bring you nosebleeds NOT relief.

7. Attraction and love are different. REMEMBER THIS ABOVE ALL.

8. Joy is clicking add to dictionary in Microsoft word.

9. If you can make it through Taco Bell kisses, morning breath will be a breeze.

10. Be jovial, it’s a choice and a side effect of living in daily adventure.

11. Make sure that your family knows…” I pause because I think I hear footsteps padding up the fourteen red-carpeted steps to her bedroom. I know I can’t move, the old wood floor in this crumbling house will definitely creak and give me away, so I just sit on the edge of the bed at full attention.

        “…No, ma’am, everything’s basically back to normal again, we’re getting the locks changed on Saturday. I’ll tell her you send your love.” The footsteps and voice were at the top of the stairs and I saw a shadow fall across the dusty floor in front of the white wooden door. I know it’s my neighbor Annie because she lives here. We grew up together. “Yes, ma’am, I love you too. I’ll try to make her call you soon. Bye.” Her phone beeped to signal the end of the conversation followed by a loud sigh. I peered from the bed into the hall and saw her sitting on the floor. Annie is a pretty girl. All the girls who live here are. We used to go to school together until my grades got too bad and I started my special school. We used to play in her front yard with her sister, Kelly. One time I kissed Kelly, but we were only seven. She is my only kiss. They both leave for most of the year now to go to college but come home for Christmas break. I will never go to college, but that’s ok.

        I felt my pants vibrating and the theme song to the TV show Who Wants to be a Millionaire was somehow blaring from somewhere around my crotch. Before I could silence it, the shadow at the door became a tangible whirlwind of brown hair, sharp screams, and clawing grabbing fingers as she tried to wrench the ratty Moleskin journal from my fingers.

        “******, Cyril, I thought I heard someone in here. You give it back and get out of this house. You can’t, like, break into other people houses like this. This is just not what normal people do. Can’t your father control you?” At this point we’re both standing in the middle of the bedroom. I’m confused so I just dangle the journal in the air above her grasp. “It’s not yours and you know that. I know you at least understand that, right? Right, Cyril? What the hell would you do if Kelly had been showering or changing. Oh my god, ew, do NOT answer that.”

        “Ow,” I yelp as she scratches at my forearm to retrieve the precious journal. “Your claws are sharp, Annie, I have more scratches from you than I do Jimmy-cat and Jimmy-cat is mean, mean but fluffy… and he purrs but you don’t purr. Is that because you don’t like me?” I lower my arm and Annie snatches the Moleskine out of my fumbling fingers, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I hate it when people do that. I notice it, but they don’t think I do.

            “Cyril, get out.” Her right hand is now securely around the Moleskine and the other is shaking, pointed towards the doorway. “Now.”

            This is always the worst part. I walk out of Kelly’s forbidden bedroom: head hung as I creak down the fourteen red, carpeted stairs and make my way to the front door. It’s always quiet and I don’t like the quiet so whenever it’s quiet I count. I am good at counting. …Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…silence.

        I turn to her, “Annie, I’m sorry…”

            “Out.” She opens the front door and points me to my apartment, directly across the street. Its autumn now and the leaves and cold rustle down the street and I crouch deeper into my black coat as I step outside.

            “So maybe I’ll come over tomorrow?” I turn as I start down the steps, hopeful to have conjured up a smile from Annie, but all I see is the flash of brunette hair disappearing behind another thick, white wooden door.

            “Get off our property before I call the cops, you creep!”

            That’s what I’ve always been to these pretty girls: a creep. I don’t really understand what the word means, but I’m pretty sure from the way they say it that it’s not nice. Pops always tells me that I’m different because it’s better to be different. I don’t understand why Annie and Kelly don’t think it’s better that I’m different too.

            I decide to walk to Captain D’s and tell Earl hi because it’s Friday and that’s what I do on Fridays. Earl owns Captain D’s and has forever. Earl is my friend. Earl and Jimmy-cat at Captain D’s that I feed my left over fish are my friends. At least I think they are. I named the cat Jimmy-cat because Pops says mom used to listen to a man named Jimmy Buffett before she left us. I don’t remember those days.

            I turn the corner knowing Captain D’s is just 560 steps ahead and that to get back home I go 910 steps back and I’ll be at my front door. Counting is one thing I am good at; even the tests they used to make me take at the doctor’s office said so. I am good at numbers. Seven is my favorite number.

            I walk into Captain D’s and, like normal, its just Earl inside. He makes me two Fish-Filet sandwiches and we go stand outside. We usually don’t talk much, but I like that . I sit on the crunchy curb, put on my hood because the wind and leaves have made my ears sting. I unwrap the greasy paper on my first sandwich and Earl pulls out his red Marbolo’s and sits beside me lighting up his first cigarette.

            “Why do you smoke, Earl?” I ask him every Friday and he always responds the same way.

            “Eh. Why do the fish swim Cyril? Why do the Eagles and Crows fly? You know we don’t know why Women like shoes so much.”

I never really understand what he means but it makes me giggle and before we know it we’re both laughing. I’m pretty sure this is what friendship is. I lick the wrapper to get all the tarter sauce off and start on my second sandwich. Earl starts his second cigarette.

            “Where’s that alley cat you got trained up, boy? Go get ‘em and I’ll cook him his own fish patty.”

            He means Jimmy-cat. I wipe my fingers on my jeans, tear off a piece of the damp fish from my sandwich, and walk towards white picket fence that Earl built around the dumpster where Jimmy-cat lives. Jimmy-cat has a good life; he can eat anything in the green dumpster he wants and he is safe behind the big white fence. I don’t like the smell but maybe cats like eating and smelling the furry tarter sauce that clings on the sides of the dumpster. As I pull the lever to open Jimmy Cat’s home, I think it smells even worse than normal. After jiggling the latch a while, it clicks, and I swing the door open to Jimmy-cat’s house. It definitely smells worse. I step up one step and crunch on leaves and squish cold fries as I circle the dumpster. “Jimmy-Jimmy-Jimmy-cat, where-oh-where-oh-where ya at?” I stop as I enter the back right corner, I see Jimmy-cat but I don’t understand what is happening. I don’t understand what is wrong. He is covered in ketchup, maybe? But if that’s true what are the little white thingssss crawling around his stomach and why are they covered in ketchup and mayonnaise too? He is mewling and I’m scared. I smell fish. Fish and furry tarter sauce, one, two, three, four, my feet are crunching on the cold fries and leaves again, I know I’m at the door without even turning around.

            “Boy, what you doin’ in there?”

            “Earl?” …One…two… “Earl, can you help me? Earl, I, I don’t understand. I don’t like it.” …Three…four…five… “Jimmy-cat needs a bath, Earl, and something is eating his stomach.” …Six…seven…silence. Earl’s hand fells like a dead fish on my shoulder as he walks me back up to Jimmy-cats home.

            “Stay here, Cyril. Just gimme’a sec to see what’s happening.” Earl disappears into the leaves and fries and fur.

            eight…nine…ten

eleven…twelve…

            thi­rteen…

fourteen…

            silence.





            “Boy? Come back here now. C’mon.” Earl’s voice echoed around the green corners and I followed. One…two…three…four…five…six…seven I stand above Earl and I know the ketchup and mayonnaise and Jimmy-cat eating monsters are just on the other side of his crouched over body.

            “Well don’t be shy, come look.” Earl stands and I see his work apron covered in the ketchup and mayonnaise but beyond that in a bed of Fish-filet wrappers is Jimmy-cat and all the stomach eating monsters mewling at his stomach, as I get close I think they look kinda like little Jimmy-cats. I push my hood off my head as I lean over closer and that’s when it hit me, “Kittens! Jimmy-cat had kittens, Earl!”

            “I think Jimmy-cat may be more of a Jasmine-cat or Jennifer-cat.”

            I laid down the piece of fish I brought and Jimmy-Cat looks up into my eyes and I swear he was happy to see me.  I looked up at Earl and he was happy to see me too. I sat down in the mess of wrappers and fries and mold and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Jenna Johnston Dec 2011
This poem was written after watching a few hours of slam poetry on Youtube. Let me know what you think...it's my first shot at slam poetry.*

There are so many words flowing around out there about the big girls. The thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls. About their plush and soft exteriors, their abundant backsides, their willingness to accept themselves and their hopefulness that others will do the same. Their….thereness.
They are beautiful, don’t get me wrong.
They are beautiful.

But what about the skinny girls?

The small girls with petite builds and large hearts and an aversion to the word short. The size two and under girls, the drive thru can’t gain a pound girls, the I AM NOT ANNOREXIC OR BULLEMIC girls.

The girls who will always be referred to as “pixie-like” or “waif-like” or “twig-like.” The perfect model body girls that all of the other girls hate…because of their lack of fat.

Aren’t they beautiful?

The girls with the size 32 bust line, the girls who, at 24, still shop in the junior sections of department stores. The girls who, regardless of their age, their strengths and weaknesses, their experiences, heartaches and joys, disappointments and triumphs, their want or need for life and love will always look like they missed a meal or gave it back purposefully with the intent of becoming even thinner. The girls who, no matter how ******* HARD they try, cannot even weigh 100 lbs soaking ******* wet.

Aren’t they beautiful?

The big girls have to search and search for cute and **** and attractive clothes because of their size. Guess what? So do the skinny girls. Do you know ******* hard it is to find a pair of pants with a size zero waist and a 34 inch leg? To finally find an extra small shirt that doesn’t have one of the top three cartoon characters of the time plastered across the front?

All I’m saying is yes, the thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls…
They are beautiful.

But ******, so am I.
This is an original by Jenna Johnston. If you like it, by all means write it down, but give credit where credit is due, please
Samir Dec 2012
Maybe it was my ADHD or my Bipolar or both, but as a child I would put in my headphones and just pretend I’m living… this is what I did for fun, I would put my headphones on over my ears and wear a beanie to keep them from falling off.  I would put on something with sickk drums and a kick *** guitar, grab my skateboard and push wood.  Synchronized with the music of course, this was more convincing to me that I was not in my life, but that I was in this fictional reality.  This reality didn’t even need to be better, it just needed to be not my life; but it always was, better that is.  If I didn’t have my skateboard I would interpret the song and either skip to it, walk rhythmically to it, or rock out somewhere; it depended on the song really.  This was my first drug and I could not understand why nobody else wanted to live the way I was living… the only thing I wished different is for the music to play out loud and not only in my head as this tended to make me feel self-conscious or awkward in the supermarket or at public places in general.  
I needed spectacular lenses nearing my middle school days due to my incessantly close music video watching.  I needed to feel as if I were there with them so I would sit right in front of the TV set.  I even went as far as to grow my hair out and part it evenly to both sides so as to black out my peripheral vision.  I consumed music and art that went along with it as if I were a ******.  I truly believed the singers in the videos were where I wanted to be, they understood me, their words taught me the truth, their music lifted my spirits, their presence kept me company, kept me sane.  They taught me everything my parents should have.  They were my angels, my saviors.  They taught me about freedom and expression.  I began writing, singing, acting, dancing, philosophizing, creating art, creating art through life.  
Life became a music video, and I became the voice, my emotions the music, my brain the lyrics, my character a poet, personifying sacrifice.  I couldn’t understand why everyone else was so BORING! Why they didn’t see me there skipping down the street and run to catch up with me and say, “hey, what are you doing?” … or something along those lines. I didn’t understand why I was alone still in this new world.  
Nowadays I find myself in front of a computer screen, playing guitar stationary.  Waiting.  Working.  Waiting... and Working… And I will be there one day… I will join them all… I will be there with them GOD ******* ******.  I just need to get to that stage.   I will break through that ******* SCREEN and I will be that guy in the ******* TV that will make that little kid somewhere jealous of him and the world he is living in.  AND I WILL ******* INSPIRE.  UNTIL ONE DAY ONE LUCKY GENERATION WILL GET TO LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE YOU CAN GO OUTSIDE AND EXPRESS YOURSELF TO THE MUSIC YOU ARE LISTENING TO AND NOT BE CALLED CRAZY AND NOT BE JUDGED AND NOT BE RIDICULED AND CASTED OUT OF SOCIETY.  AND NOT THIS, AND NOT THAT, AND NOT THIS BUT WORSE, AND NOT THAT BUT TRAGIC.  I WILL ******* BREAK THROUGH THAT ******* SCREEN YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT AND I WILL KEEP THOSE LOST CHILDREN COMPANY AND I WILL MAKE THEM FEEL LOVED AND I WILL MAKE THEM FEEL ALIVE AND I WILL SAVE THEM FROM WANTING TO ******* DO IT SO ******* BADLY BECAUSE NO ONE WAS EVER THERE, BECAUSE NO ONE GAVE A ****, BECAUSE THEY DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY, BECAUSE THEY DON’T HAVE ENOUGH ANYTHING… but I can’t put food in their stomachs and I can’t keep them warm.. BUT ******* IT THEY WILL NOT FEEL NEGLECTED.
extasis Jan 2010
Crackling criss-crossing blue in mind. It scissors down the lanes through the pipes and tubes and little dividers. Electrical mind numbing beauty. Veins-bursting in excited anticipation. Convulsions and scenic skittering routes. Into the Nexus! Here simmers what we are thinking and believing. Our mind's eye focuses and drips into the pool until completion. Psionic figures dance flicker through life existence. Pulse-width fluctuations. Tiny menagerie of our Will. Scribbling through dusted panes of time interface. All afire with ourselves once we have discovered ourselves. Nano-tech emotions. Hope fear anger mercy curiosity buzzing swarms of grey goo jibbering and bubbling in an artificial mind-****. What is all this allusion? Nothing complicated. Speculation on future times where sensual technological biological singularity is paramount. In my room where the clocks are taped over and the sun is dark and dim. Through the windows I see myself. The boxes on the floor emanate simple clickings with melodies intertwined casually. I myself appear redundant. I have done this and so have others. To discuss oneself is worthless unless you become convinced you are another entity gazing back across the room. I feel I am being watched. I become cautious as he may have noticed. Tingling weightlessness tickles in waves in both heads. The Jazz Classic appears. Old dark men and women in hazy environments. Organic supposition or cold observation? Both hold importance so let us appreciate it all. The cello quivers and hums with vibration. Fingers callused and riveted like the age-old corn field bother still strings. A child hums to just myself. What does he want? I never asked him for an audience. Yet he freely gives it to me. Now he multiplies. Or she? Children confuse and cause one to be apprehensive. Nothing and silence. Silence in movement. Cease my visual stimulation for a couple seconds each. The child is back. What does he speak? Pray inside the rubble? Heal in this place? In disgrace? I do not know. His octaves are meshing together. Whining and thrumming with strange alterations. Some madmen tweaks my ears. Maybe he knows the child? I'm not sure. Let us continue on. The flute is the child. Old cello, you have stopped? These musings mean nothing. I would look upon them in a year and think nothing of it. Yet it feels as if this time is important. Da Vinci knocks on the door. Not as if I wanted to talk to it. Wouldn't mind I suppose. He is gone. We talked but I do not remember the conversation. Perhaps we've all talked but we just don't remember our conversations. That's ridiculous though. Then anything is possible. We could have flown to the moon on scarlet weasels outfitted with the latest nano-pores that secreted pure liquid indulgence. And we did because I just imagined we might have. However, I don't remember actually doing it. Just what I thought it might have been like. How frustrating. My thoughts are the same as all others who write out their thoughts when under the influence of yourself. It always seems like some thing is scuttling near my feet or under the nightstand; just out of view. Strange. I would be afraid. No reason to fear that which doesn't bother me. No reason to fear much of anything. That's been said before. Why are we so often concerned with saying that which has been said before? Cliche? auump-ump auump-ump auump-ump little thumping noise in my ears. That vibration is calming. Every night I am awake. Every day I seem asleep. I do not like it but I do not care yet I allow it to be what it will. Vision defaults to out of focus. My eyes always cross if I cease trying to control them. People are strange. Animals are strange. Same thing I guess. Someone will find that clever. Someone will find it cliche. This someone won't care. ****** fantasy permeates day to day. More entertaining than living a fantasy though. ***. Not that entertaining. Perhaps no one knows how to do it properly anymore. Maybe we never did. Maybe some people are just disenchanted with it. When I'm by myself, I never have any ****** desire. When around others, I generally think of it out of curiosity: what would it be like to please the person in front of me? The only enjoyment I've had with *** would consist of pleasing another or observing another ****. The human body is intriguing. Definitely. I really do think so. Sometimes I look at my own. Not out of appreciation really. Just the fact that I have body allows me to investigate it and understand it more. Pain is merely a stage one can get past, so I suppose I injure myself sometimes to see how I react. It's like I need to check I'm still working properly. I can't tell when I'm tired. I feel something, but when I ask myself if I'm tired, I murmur back, "I don't know." Maybe that is why I stay up till early mornings? I wanted to add again that the human body is beautiful and unappealing all in the same space. Perhaps the unattractiveness and softness and strangeness produces attraction. A negative and a negative equals a positive. Three negatives likes to fluctuate. In my mind at least. I may ask another to remove their clothing and whatnot during those intimate moments. Eh, never quite feel like having *** though. I like the emotions and sensuality of just looking at someone. They usually want to physically play around with each other. I think I enjoy fighting more. One day I'll leave everyone except I'll reminisce on those I enjoyed meeting. Maybe come back and visit? I would like to ride something quickly through an empty desert. Find my own food and water. Create shelter. Think by myself. My room is the smallest desert I have and the biggest. I have more in my head but I only occupy one at a time. I suppose I like I do like things like all others. I mean, materials can be nice. If I impart meaning on to an object it gains importance. I see it vital to also say that if it were to be lost, then I wouldn't mind and I would obtain something else or nothing at all.The constitution. Just mentioned by some woman in my room. Or in my ears would be more correct. Constitutional Rights. I honestly don't see the need for them. I was criticized for burbling that once. We should not need a constitution. We should be able to do what we like to do without fear or concern. Unless natural fear and concern appears. Now that may confuse a bit. Right to bear arms. I shouldn't have to be told or allowed to massive bear arms if I feel the need to have them. Big hairy bear arms. Curious little mishap. Freudian slip as Johnny said once? Danger Danger. Anyway, Right to bare arms. I shouldn't have to be told, as I look back,  go back and throw in that comma after told, that I'm allowed to bare arms and defend myself. I'll just do it if the need arises. Freedom of speech. That already has many issues these days. However, there shouldn't have been a need to tell people they have freedom of speech. Speech should have been freely allowed and never oppressed in  the first place. Theme? We have erred so much in the past and I would think sometimes we ignore that and just try make little cosmetic fixes by saying it's okay. Another point. Hold that: side discomfort. I sometimes feel like a little spider or creature is crawling or skittering on my leg under the covers or I'll change the music to Galaxy 2 Galaxy 90's hi-tec jazz there we go. Done! Now back! Or I forget what I said about the spiders. Another point: what? ******, curse damnable ****. Can't recollect what it was I was connecting together. Something that tied in to deceiving people into things are okay. I could go on about consumerism and all that jazz. Instead I'm listening to some techno-jazz whatever-decided-to-call-it. Hyphenated phrases are fun when I decide they are appropriate. English and grammar in such can be cool but at the same time I want to say **** it and stay proper. Do both. Acknowledge how to write and speak "correctly," but as long as someone understands what you are trying to say, then why correct more? Someone large doesn't like the fact I make a lot of noise in the morning. I stole some speakers and subwoofer from the room next to me as I was going to say Austin.  They are on the floor and whichever large person lives below me is probably annoyed or was. I don't spend any of my actual time despising them, but I'll easily say I despise them when someone asks. Otherwise it isn't worth wasting time on. Perhaps the vibration quivers downstairs and shakes them silently. The greate beast is perturbed and sneaky vibrations cause electro-annoyance! Her pulsewidth as I understand it must be like a super-saw as I think it. Silence. Some woman said it's just a feeling. HEA not sure what why I put that sounds like a garageband song. Switched to Inspiration! That is what I did this night. Finally start writing and making things again. Even though I never did and always did. My head sometimes hurts from thinking. Never truly though. Gotta say those things to keep the conversation going. That is really the only reason I say anything. To keep the conversation going. Otherwise I'd just watch people and be just fine. Just yelled "bahh," out loud (didn't sound the comma) because I felt the need or the want. Same. Wrong keys erased. sdas=a====dddddddddd Sorry. Oh well. Oh My. How the time flies goodbye. Going nowhere. Could write more but I felt the slight flicker of wanting to stop. So I do. What an ending. Now I'm only typing to continue the conversation with myself. Just thought ******* sounds good melody. Do as I sayt way to go good job. STOPSDMFA

****** a

Guess I'll read this little conundrum I wrote up. Stop writing ******. Stop EDITING
Adrian Strider Mar 2015
******, please let it end,
That is what I ask for and
wish for, just one slight bend
in fate to let my body land
six feet under the ground.
******, my choices are mine,
no one will turn me around,
because I will always be fine.
The moment it turned from
"best for me" to "best for all"
is the moment that I become
fine, till the day that I fall.
See, I am done changing
myself for everyone else,
Because there is nothing
I will let be done to myself.
Everyone is more worried
for me then I am, and that
means I should always heed
them, cuz I am definitely bat
**** crazy, to not want to
conform, so let it end, the
questioning of me for who
should worry about me
unless they want to use
me? Why is it that I have
to change, when they abuse
me, I would let heaven move,
Before I do
ajp Nov 2014
How do I ignore you when
you're right next to me?
God ****** we keep bumping elbows.
I can't blast my music
loud enough to tune out
your presence.
Nik Bland Sep 2012
She tells me of the loves she's found
She tells of the loves she's lost
And I linger to fix her broken wings
At, I wonder, what cost
So that she might go out with confidence
To find heartbreak again
It matters not, I've not forgot
That I am still her friend
That I am still her leaning post
That I am her safety net
Each night she goes whilst I stay
And each day she pours her regrets
Into my brain, Into my soul
So I might empathize
And I sit there stroking her hair
And what she doesn't realize
Is that I know her favorite color is yellow
That her favorite song is "Almost Lover"
That she went through a pregnancy scare
And a fight with her dad from which she'll never recover
That she giggles without fail whenever someone say "flabberghasted"
And I know that she's had only five boyfriends
None of which that have lasted
I know she sings inside the shower
Even though she may deny it
I know she snores and drools on her pillow
And that she prays someday Krispy Kreme doughnuts will come diet
I know that she cries whenever she thinks too much
That she looks forward to marriage
The feeling of her husband's touch
And  someday a baby in a carriage
And I know more than most about this girl
The one with her head on my lap
The one who's silent every time she cries
Yet is snorting every time she laughs
But here I sit with her alone
Barred from going any farther than friend
The girl whose afraid to lose me
Who torments me without end
The one who hinders my love for her
And therefore invokes my selfishness
Running on my brain in steel cletes
While I feign happiness
So pause time
Because my words for her are unheard and few
A chance is all I'd ask of her to show both my love and dedication are true
And yet she stands in fear of not losing me
But of getting in the deep end of the pool
And thus lies the complex irony
And why in life I play the fool
For I am the love of her life that has been there
And in heartbreak or joy, I'm all in
Yet because of fear I stay a friend
Ending where love should begin
CommonStory Jun 2014
A simple cafe
The woman with the latte
I see her
Those peach pink lips
Your jeans fadded blue
Blonde curly hair
Skin so fair
Oh the things I would do

Across the room
Her Carmel colored skin
Brown long hair
Breast perked so
Coke bottled body

And you
Oval shaped eyes
Sun kissed freckles
so fun sized

Burgundy bleached hair
Suckulant grape lips
Thick curved waist
Coffee hazeled eyes

Eyes....
She pierced my sight
I glanced back
She knows I'm looking
My deviant thoughts
Tension rises
Three seconds four and five
I break contact I head to the door
Stumble
******
She's at the door
Our bodys touch

"Hey do you dance"
I so dance
Respond
"Yeah I do"
" well you should meet my boyfriend
He does to"
******

Friend zoned
Timur Shamatov Nov 2018
It’s been said that I couldn’t do it,
Go without a nut till the end of December.
The whispers growing louder as
The bets are growing higher,
Cause no one trust the line that
Timur has given up the nut,
Ah, let me check... yes
From the mid of November.
Am I crazy to play this game?
Cause I’m as weak as any other man.
And what can be better then a nut on
A cold morning in mid of December?
And oh my god there’s so many nuts,
Of every shape, size and color
But ****** I’m a man and I can
Give up a nut till the end of December.
But you better believe it
That the day after The Cold Sad December,
Your boy is going crazy to celebrate
The End Of No Nut December.
Oh you know, just messing around trying to win this bets.
mks Oct 2014
god ****** she misses you

and god ****** i miss you

and im sorry, god, for swearing but i have run out of ideas on how to make this no good shapeshifting warm handed boy notice me remember when he said i love you

this is not a goodbye you don't deserve one this is not a plea for help see previous poems, twitter, my wrists, etc this is not a romanticization of your destructive ways and i no longer hear birds sing when you torch cities and i can't bring myself to see the love in your inferno so what the hell do i have left to say to you

i once wrote that you left love letters on my tongue and that you made drowning fun but i have come to the conclusion that those are both in fact lies and that the only thing you left on my tongue is the bitter taste of your name and beer and that drowning is ******* terrible and so are you

i remind myself everyday that you must have been a good person somewhere along the way and that there must have been some point where you actually did miss the feeling of my skin and that i was the only one you cared for- but i must also remember the day you filled my vacancy and turned on the lights and i still see you in the smiling pictures hung on the walls like your head in the hall whenever i pass by and i remember the day you moved out and on to nicer things and to this day you have succeeded in making the whole thing feel like an eviction, like it was me that wanted you gone and my peeling wallpaper has since revealed that the only thing holding me together was you

funny how every part of this poem ends with you and funny how every thought these days ends with you

and it's funny how when things ended with you you were the only one laughing

this is not a cry or a plea or an appology

this is a eulogy from me to you and i will not waste any more metaphors or adjectives or nights where i should be fast asleep on your whirlpool eyes and twisted smile

you once said, at 3 am, "you know when you're as close to loving someone as physically possible without actually saying it?" and i replied with "yes" and i love you i love you i love you

i hope flowers grow from your rotting heart and i hope you wake up some life and feel just a hint of remorse as you look into her eyes

i'm not a poet and you're not a nice boy and there was a time when i would devote my life to writing about the way you touched my cheek and you would devote your life to exploring the small of my back

that life has ended and i hope she holds you close enough at night

(my own hands will find comfort in the folds you left unnoticed and i will let myself hear the whispers of flattery upon every surface i touch. i will love myself and i will learn to not love you and i will find someone that i can love without pushing myself aside)
Jaimee Michelle Jun 2013
What if I'd been the one to go?
The day you asked for "space", when you didn't even know what you were really asking for
What if I'd stuck to my guns?
Gave you that space
Gave you so much that only you were in it?
Even after saying "I'm sorry" "I didn't mean it like that" What if you'd begged for another chance and I just turned you away
Played it off as if it was nothing
Just a minor bruise
Not a complete break
Then what if I told you I'd found someone else?
While I was still supposed to be yours?
What if I started acting strange
And I never put my phone down
I slept on the couch
And when you'd try and be affectionate
I got cold, bothered and wanted none of it
What if I made you feel so unwanted you felt you were choking on your heartbreak?
What would you have done, if I still wanted "needed" you in my life
I let you go but didn't at the same time
You agree to stay but, only in hopes I'll change my mind because, the thought of sharing me kills you inside?
Every time you'd picture me with him, your stomach would turn
But, that little piece that was just yours still convinced you to stay?
Soon it was like nothing changed
We were still glued at the hip and I told you that no one else in this world was closer to me than you
In the moment I made you feel so important
In that moment I brought all the positive emotions to the table
I gave you hope
But, the next day or two, you text, you call
and I say nothing and you've sent quite a few
Would you feel cheap? Used? Second best?
Would it feel like the lies just left my lips like rain falls from the sky?
I don't even blink, skip a beat or stutter
I look dead in your eyes and say whatever I can to make you forgive me
Because the reality is, I do want to be with you but, everything was just so messy
I needed something easy, something that hardly needed my attention
But ****** if I still didn't need yours
And you pleaded for mine
And other days, I was the one so eager to see you
My words and actions always sending mixed signals
Not allowing you to let go of what you desired most
Me
You just want my time, my arms around you, and for me to just accept you back
How would you deal with the shoe on the other foot?
Would you just be so cool with it all? Your heart wouldn't be twisted in knots?
You'd be able to just walk away too, as I stood there calling, sobbing your name
Promising ill be better
Would you just accept the blame?
Leftovers would fill you up?
Knowing you just needed me to see beyond the hurt, break down your walls
Could you just accept it? And hope for the best?
Repeating to yourself that I do care, she does care
What if I got on that plane
And you were the one in shambles
With nothing but a phone call to look forward too
But, then what do you do when they stop?
And I act as if I don't even know you?
That I haven't been toying with your heart for months
My selflessness wouldn't drive you insane?
Especially, cause you couldn't stay mad
Your heart just continued to want me
You couldn't let go cause I left you an empty box with no answers in it?
Would you just forgive me?
Trust me again?
Would or could you admit why you did what you did to a person who never saw it coming?
What if you knew my mind, my heart got right
And I was beyond sorry for ever leaving you
My heart won't let you go, please please give me a chance to prove how much you matter to me
Just ask yourself what the ******* would feel if the script was flipped
And you were left with endless memories
With a heart wrenching goodbye...
Would you forgive me?
Would you ****** forgive me?
Tell me
Tell me ******
My heart hasn't stopped aching
My eyes are still crying
And through my blurred vision, you're all I see
All I think about
All my dreams are about?
No escape even in my sleep
What would you feel?
What would you want to say?
Tell me ******!
Put my **** shoe on
Would you still be waiting?
Would you???
WOULD YOU???
Dondaycee Sep 2017
I just wanted freedom,
I’m not talking about rights, that’s irrelevant.
We just wanted freedom,
As in the youth wanting better ways for development.
I’m speaking on the behalf of those unaware of their intelligence,
Those who discovered their element but kept the closet shut.
Afraid to offer the clothes on their back,
They’ll say it’s confidence we lack,
But here’s the ugliest fact,
We don’t open doors with skeletons.
Unless it’s Halloween, where dark and light are in resonance,
Yin and Yang, beauty is ugly and ugly is beauty, humorous medicine.
I have a testament, that if the morals in this holiday were a measurement of 365 days, it would be evident according to my estimate, that unity and love would be proper etiquette, excellent because even the dark would be perceived as heaven-sent.
The terms evil and hell would then be indefinite allowing a person to open a door with a skeleton as a cause without the effect being bedevilment.
That’s freedom.
Some have it in the day, most find it at night.
It could be with family or with friends.
A celebration of a season, or a reason to escape a thing we call life.
A venting conversation after empty bottles,
A sleep over when home is hostile,
They say happiness is in the moment,
I say that moment occurs when you’re no longer in a position to fight,
For a home, a place of comfort and acceptance,
A place where your company is appreciated,
We all need love, that warm feeling we get when standing in light,
Or the uplifting vibrations when the environment opens up, and you’re no longer forced to sit tight but now have the opportunity of standing up to take flight.
We deserve some freedom.
I used to feel alone,
With awareness that term became solitude,
I can’t crave attention after joining the mission,
I had to look in the mirror,
“Keep it together” said Kyi,
“Because this is a solid move”
But but, I’m losing my friends.
“You’re choosing your men.”
“A positive team,
Because that’s what knowledge do”
“Here’s a time reference using latitude.”
“Move forward, chase the rabbit food,
Clear vision with a positive attitude.”
“Moving West to east may feel like you’re leaving things behind,
But understand earth and understand time,
We circle back around, think of a birthday, there will always be a time when you're gonna look back at you.”
“That’s a rapid move.
These are states of Matter, going from solid to gas,
A caged bird ready to fly, that’s a cockatoo.”
“Atoms aren’t alone, eventually they meet others,
There’s a bigger picture, that’s a molecule.”
“Don’t feel alone, atoms go through solitude when there’s a column move, solid to gas-”
-a solid move-
“- but in our case, a change in longitude,
Because we’re shifting our consciousness from 3rd to 5th dimension.”
I understand the magnitude of the mission, that’s why we made this decision,
No need to crave attention when acting with promptitude,
Like minded people will act as a molecule and help constitute  a solid move in longitude, breaking the physical is an important attribute, analytical travel route, an atom moving towards freedom in its absolute-
“Knowledge acting as carrots, erasing ignorance, clearing the vision for an Omni move.”
The conscious battles to become the subconscious, the freedom to be all of me instead of part of me, that’s a body move.
Freedom is all I wanted,
Freedom is all we wanted,
Being labeled Millennials was the outcome,
It’s not life but these systems we’re trying to out run.
They look at suicide like, “What went wrong?”
“She looked so happy…”
Or “How did he feel alone.”
Freedom is when you have a home,
If I’m talking and you’re listening, that’s being heard,
But if you can’t understand it, there’s no meaning in the word,
That’s a failure in communication, standing without a herd I’d still be on my own.
If anything, the previous generations don’t understand emotions,
Feeling empty is indeed a deep feeling.
They say there’s not much in the bottom of the ocean,
I say dive,
“But Daycee we can’t the pressure will crush us.”
Now you see why suicide is chosen,
We dive, looking for something we know is there, unaware of the pressure, we get crushed by our own emotions.
These are powerful feelings and thoughts,
We see the insanity and what was lost in erosion.
Try to understand us, don’t try to change us, just like those whom predates emphasize, “Don’t blame us.” We must change a system that caused the previous generations to be broken, if anything our generation is bringing hope in, refusing to be above or below one, our words if anything are the greatest ever spoken,
We need people to understand us, not just listen, because these systems aren’t working,
Einstein said “A problem can’t be solved with the same consciousness that created it”, so don’t point fingers at us saying “Millennials” and that we were always given ****, when we’re the group that gave a **** about the world and the people that hated it and attempted change by not doing the same thing over and over again, innovative because we’re some creative kids,
I hope this is provoking because ****** we are special, specifically chosen,
To bring back balance and unity in consciousness that the ignorant and insane broken,
I am here to bring freedom,
Because freedom is something we all need,
The millennials are here to bring freedom,
Because it’s the one thing we all see,
The brothers and sisters we lost heard it call from the bottom of the sea,
Our ancestors want us to bring back freedom that was lost in waters but remained in gene,
Freedom is a kingdom we’re bringing where all is free.
chels Jun 2013
I AM NOT THE ******* SUN
I AM
broken glass on sidewalks where kids play
i am
****** up puzzle pieces where the picture is splitting from the cardboard back
i am
white socks with black bottoms because of all the ******* i've been put through
i am
sa
d
i am sad
i am sad
but i don't want to be
i'm sick of being thrown away
i am not past any expiration date
i am not just some ******* KID
who wants to hold your hand
just because you feel bad for me
and that i like you
god ****** god ****** god ******
i'm not going to ******* sit here
and be treated like absolute ****
just because i like someone
just because
i want to be in a relationship i want to be in love
but at the same time,
i don't believe in love anymore and that hurts me more than any gun could
god,
it hurts me more than anything could
AJ Sep 2014
at first these four walls were closing in on me in the darkness
limiting my air supply
inch by inch

****** i should have taken comfort in that

now im free falling
nothing to hold, nothing to lean against
air rushing into my lungs
but nothing coming out

**** i hope i dont hit rock bottom
life is funny...has a way of bringing you down just when everything is going so right....im trying to find my wings
Toni Seychelle Feb 2013
When you take my hand like you do
And touch my leg while you drive

When you play new music you know I'd like
And carry that smug smile when I admit to liking it

When you want to hear how my day was
And then wish me sweet dreams later

When you take me to bed
And put your arm under my pillow

When you look at me with those sweet blues
And move my hair from my face

When you kiss me on the neck behind my ear
And trace my collarbone with your finger

When you spoon me
And hold me tight

When you try so hard to be what you weren't
And do so much better at it

I hate you
I hate myself

**** you,
I should never have told you

What you should have done
And what you did.

Against the rules
Here I am

**** you,
I love you

But I won't
I won't
I won't

Be yours.
Again.
122912
You
I stare into the darkness of the room, tears running down my face.
Silence.
Nothing comes to mind but you.
You
You
You
******.
Why cant i forget about you?
Why wont my heart let you go?
******.
I wish this wasnt so hard.
You got over me in an instant,
Why cant i get over you?
******.
peter larkin Sep 2011
if i would be taller
my life would be great
but ****** im not
and i need to lose weight

the walls are so high
and the world is so big
i look to the sky
as my friend smokes a cig

id love to be 6 foot
so my dreams can come true
and if ur my mates ex
ill be seeing u soon
P Grace Thompson Oct 2014
So!
Just read me. go on
Read me ******!
Like my journal. which you took
As if it were some book!
Tore my soul down,
from my secret shelf.
I found it! where you left it.
Spine cracked and pages missing.
Forced to. reveal myself.
So go on! theif go on....
Read me!
To the ever watchful thought police....
Day Dec 2012
I want cheesey garlic bread!
alas, it's all that's in my head-
and if lactose I could tolerate,
this might not be such a debate.

though I'm sure my body could conform,
but it's taken this long to reform!
from the **** and mucus that is dairy,
that will surely turn your knuckles hairy.

I'll eat a piece of gluten toast,
for it only makes my tummy bloat,
but from cheese I must stay far away,
unless I want my **** to spray.

it's a sign, I think, that my body rejects
such a harmful product, my body protects
but god ****** I want garlic bread,
the cheesey kind, it's in my head...
Surrationality Sep 2013
I plan on sleeping into oblivion into Armageddon into the end of the world.  
The earth shakes all around me as the sky falls in brimstone and rains sulfur and right now I think I see the angel of death in the distance.
I am not sure what it would look like though this vision is chilling me to the core.  
The molten core of this rock of life now death is rising up and overtaking the trees yet somehow I remain alive somehow I am not engulfed in the holy and divine flame of this apocalypse but I am sweating like a pig.  

I think I smell bacon.  

The sizzling of the flesh of those around me reminds me of bacon.
I think that’s why Hashem is ******.  
I know the smell of bacon.
I am not religious but the death and chaos around me and the angel of death above me and the burning sky and charred trees and buildings and bodies around me have given me a slight change of heart.  

Help me holy one!

I renounce my sins and blasphemy and beg forgiveness at Your all-powerful feet staring at Your omnipotent toenails and noticing a little fungus and thinking that we all have our flaws, even the Alpha and the Omega, the Almighty God that is prayed to day and night.  

If I could hear all the prayers in the world right now as we crumble into oblivion what
would they say?
I’m sorry Lord for what I have done Forgive me Lord for my indiscretions I was good, God, why have you done this to me what is Your plan Almighty tell me ******, why must I, your humble servant die at your hand because of the evils of others!  and I hear the reversal of fortunes.
The pious screaming at You for answers and the blasphemous like myself whimpering for forgiveness and the strong become weak and the weak become weaker and the terrible whine of hot steel bending and the crackling of flesh that reminds me of bacon and I remember now that I shouldn’t know that smell but forget among the cries of flesh and steel and concrete wood plastic explosions cacophony chaos bliss finality the end of days is on a
Tuesday

and I love it because I have always loathed
Tuesdays.  

Tuesdays
have always had a putrid green sky and a certain unpleasant odor lingering in the thick juicy air an odor not unlike fertilizer that has somehow gone bad and I wonder how **** goes bad because fertilizer is just that, ****, right?  
And that smell begins to flood my nose again as I hear the sizzle of flesh burning again this time
closer and louder and real and I begin to feel the heat all around me and my time for epiphany is now over.  
That fertilizer smell, that rancid **** demonic hellish smell is none other than my own burning flesh, none other than a warning sign that the end would come on a
Tuesday,
that most loathsome and evil of days, the worst of the week.
Tuesday.  
Insufferable intolerable
Tuesday
with your rancid **** burning flesh hell spawn demon smell, a smell only found in the bowels of the underworld and gym locker rooms, your rancid green brown sky, a color to match your smell in the thick sticky juicy air that never leaves.

Tuesday,
you evil being you devil you lost soul you destructor I hate you now more than ever as the sizzle crawls up my body and engulfs my nose and for that I am thankful because I can no longer smell that evil putrid narcotic smell of death but it stops before my eyes so I can bear witness to the end of days to the last whimper of the earth as it is consumed by fire and hear with what is left of my ears the eternal silence of this beautiful Apocalypse and begin only slightly as the bacon sizzle crawls up my forehead
in silent reverie
to love

Tuesday.
kate crash May 2011
Bus stop
Limp walk
Sick talk
Boys flop
Across
Seats shoes kick
Howlin kids
Tires stretch out
Yawning tourists
Backpacks full of nonesense
Hearts never make sense
In the heat of the worn day
Texting away
Blah blah blah about nothing
Wanting to feel important
But I'm poor
And I don't look like
A movie star
And that's all I c
What people want
But I'm worn out plaid
In a world of gold
And I don't care if they don't notice
That I appear to b broken
Unmarketable
Where do I fit
Inbetween limosines and slips
Sweatshops and ******
Lies of a world sold
Untold who speaks for me
Who speaks for me?
Tuesday Pixie Oct 2014
Nothing is certain anymore.
I used to know: I miss knowing.
I had decided he was the one.
Forever. For ever. Everlong. Everlast.
But it wasn’t everlasting.
And now?
I’ve lost the partner to my dream.

Begin again. Start once more. All over.
New introductions: new dynamics
It’s all different.
Unsettling.
Exciting – I’m thrown off balance.
Soo much to learn.
What’s beneath the ripply surface?
Open up, prise to sunlight; I must see.
Figure: are you the new ‘one’?

A replacement?
A new dream. A new adventure.
A thousand ways to see the world.
Perspective dominates so much.
I think we come from similar mind
- But unless you speak I cannot be certain.
“What’re you thinking?”
“Mmm… I don’t know”
It’s a gap
Between thought and mouth
- I’ve been there, I’ve felt it.
We need to build a bridge.

‘Put your trust in me, I’m not gonna die alone’
I don’t want to. Not alone.
I need someone to accompany me.
I want a family.
Who?
It feels like time to settle in.
Who?
I’m tired of this game
This uncertainty
Either let me be alone
- Impossible for me, I know:
I ***** too much up when I’m single.
Yet there should be growth there.
- Then let me be with the one.

I know there is no perfection.
But imperfections may compliment.
I know it takes work.
Communication.
Sacrifice.
Energy.
Time.
I know difference must be respected.
I know connection is of most importance
- Or perhaps a close second to support.
And love.

But love grows.
Even arranged marriages fall into love.
Why not choose?
The one with the traits
The dynamic that is desired
Love will come
It always does in the end
So long as resentment does not dominate
The dynamic is soo important!
And the lifestyle
- What am I willing to give up?
What does he desire?  

I’m over this dizzying romance game.
I’m throwing the towel in.
If not him, then someone else close by.
Because I’ve always had too many options.
And before that made me scared:
Given urge to ‘play the field’
Taste all within range.

Now, now, I am tired.
It’s nice to know someone’s intimacy
Exploring beneath the cloak:
Let me in, let me in, let me in.
I know it takes time
Let me in, let me in, let me in.
But trust me. Please?
Let me in, let me in, let me in.
Coz ******! I’m letting you in.
And ******! I want to show you my world.
And to see yours.
And when we escape this place,
Maybe just for a day or two,
But when we do,
It’s fricken beautiful
And we’re beautiful
And I know that.

Please. I want to fall into love.
Why not with him?
Tired of the dating game. At such an early age! Perhaps it's just a phase.. We all want our happily ever after, even if we've lost faith in true love.
'Put your trust in me, I'm not gonna die alone' from The Antlers 'Putting the Dog to Sleep': http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xg8Ckamh8Gw
LD Goodwin Jun 2013
Tomorrow morning they are going to take them,
what am I going to do?
He says it doesn’t matter to him, because I have a pretty face.
In all the years we've been married, he’s never told me I had a pretty face.
I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle this.
Hell, I don’t think I'm going to be able to handle this.
God ******, I am going to loose my hair,
I am gonna loose my beautiful ******* hair, then everyone will know.
People will put sanitizer on their hands after they shake mine.
All my friends and family will treat me differently.
They’ll feel sorry for me, they won’t know what to say.
And then there’ll be those who will say too much, or the wrong thing.
"I’ll pray for you", some will say,
But I know what they are thinking, they think....
"that is what she gets for drinking her martinis and smoking her ***".
Some will even say it is God’s will.
**** God!
He is stealing my beauty,
my wonderfully gorgeous ****, my hair.
They are a part of me.
I don’t give a **** what a man thinks about my *******,
that they are **** or voluptuous,
they are a part of me.
And now, like a side of beef,
they are going to section me up and take them from me.
What will they do with them?
I mean after they biopsy.
Can I have them to bury?
Sorry, I know that wasn't necessary, but I am mad.
I am mad and afraid, I am so afraid.
I know my husband, he will never be the same.
He doesn’t **** me with his eyes closed, my **** turn him on.
But then any woman’s **** turn him on.
When he reaches to touch them, there’ll be nothing there.
I’ll look like a little boy, nothing.
Maybe I have identified with them too much,
I have made them a big part of my personality.
I've fed my children with them, my boyfriends fought over them,
they have got me into and out of trouble more than once.
****, I am going to have to get a whole new wardrobe.
And now, in the morning
they are going to cut them off of me
and put them in a stainless steel operating room bowl.
Like chicken fat.
Why do I feel like this,
I didn’t cry when the dentist pulled my wisdom teeth?
What if he told me I had to or else I would die, I’d pulled them myself?
I trim my nails, and get my hair cut and dyed.
I exfoliate my skin.
I lost 10lbs last year and I didn’t shed one tear,
my ******* will weigh more than that.
But I am loosing something else,
I am loosing normal.
I'll have to find a new normal.
I am loosing myself
and replacing it with a different person.
I’ll be one of them,
I’ll be a survivor,
a hero.
I'll hold hands with other survivors and walk 10 miles
and wear a **** load of pink.
Hey, but I don't look too bad in pink.

*later this week a friend is going to have a double mastectomy.  These are just a few of the words I have collected from other breast cancer survivors. I had to do something for her. My hope is that we become more aware of the fear and pain that breast cancer victims go through.
Harrogate, TN June 2013
Winter Ice Storm Mar 2017
"Senpai, are you okay?" you ask as I stare once again. Your steel pools look into my purple orbs, full of worry.
'God, how I wish you'd look at me the same way you look at cheesecake.' is what I wish to say, but all that comes out is a harsh "Fine.".
'Why can't I just say what I feel with ease?'

"Senpai, look at the birdies!!" you squeal like a child, even though you're seventeen. The birds fly in the garden, just like the butterflies in my stomach. And I almost smile...  
'How do you manage to make me smile when all I want to do is cry?' is what I wish to ask, but all that is said is a cold "Be quite, brat.".    
'Why is it so hard to express my mind?'

"Senpai, look at my new dress!" I look up only to blush, it goes unnoticed by you. But not by our friend of music, who stands with a smirk behind you. The blood red dress reaches your mid thighs and flows like a river. Long sleeves just the way you like it, to hide the scars. A white ribbon tied around your waist defines your curve.
'You look gorgeous, as always.' is the complement I wish to give, but all that comes out is a sharp "What's the point?".
'Why is it so hard to complement you?'

"Senpai, I got you a present!" you hold a black and purple box in front of me, while dressed in a Santa dress and gray tights. Something our friends probably made you wear...
'You shouldn't have bought me something, being with you is enough.' is what I wish to preach, but all that is spoken is a bored "What is it?". And you pull out a silver chain with a silver snowflake that holds a red jewel in the center. You hook it around my neck with a giggle. And I fall in love with you even more...
'Why do you still stay with me despite knowing what i'm capable of?'    

"Senpai, you're bleeding!" I look down and see blood seeping through my sleeve. My eyes widen, as I hold my wrist and swiftly walk out of the room. "Senpai, are you okay?!" you ask in a panic as you follow, but I stop you.
'Please save me from myself...' is the plead I wish to put in the air, but all that comes out is the acidic toned "Go away!". That night you stayed by my side, despite my pleas to leave.
'Why do you still care about me when all I do is speak harshly?'

"Senpai, do you hate me?" the question I've always dreaded hearing.
'No, Scarlet I don't hate you. I love you.' is the confession I wish to voice, but all that comes out is a simple  "No.".
'Why do you make me so nervous with a single word, or just your presence?'

"Senpai, have you drank tonight?" you ask looking at me as we dance to  a slow song. Your dress fanning out as I spin you.
'No, i'm trying to stop, like you've asked me to.' is the gospel I wish to share, but all that comes out is a single  "No.".
'Why do you still have faith in me after I've let you down so many times?'

Every question in my mind starts with a  Why or a  How, and are directed to you. You're all I think about day and night, trying to figure out how to tell you how I feel. Yet, I can't even speak my mind!

When I  fell, you helped me  up.
When I was  lost, you  led the way.
When I  yelled, you remained  soft spoken.
When I became  violent, you became the voice of  peace.
When I was  harsh, you were  kind.
When I was  hateful, you were  joyful.

Complete opposites.
The Sun and the  Moon
Light and  Dark
Water and  Fire
Yet you stay by my side, but why?!

I'm the monster and you're the little girl.
I'm the hunter and you're the hunted.
I'm the demon and you're the angel.
All I do is corrupt you, so why stay?!

"Senpai, I stay because I love you. Not as a friend or family. But as a partner in crime, in life."

Those words, made me think it was just a dream at first. Until I felt you wrap your arms around me. I open my mouth to speak the words I so many times before wished to say.

"........"

God ****** why can't I speak!!

Eyes flare from electric violet to ice blue, an animalistic growl sounds in the night. I grab you by the collar and finally get my message across, without words. And all this time I tried to speak when I simply had to give a small peck like in the sappy movies.

And finally my fantasy's turn to reality...

I finally tell you I love you  without words, but with action.  

And you make all the wrongs  right...
You make all the nightmares  disappear...
You make all the flaws  qualities...

And finally, after years of frowning.... I smile, a smile of sharp teeth.... that none of you fear, and I feel accepted at last.....

*I finally feel peace...
not yet finished. still in the process of being written.

update #1: still in the making but getting close to done. - 3/23/2017 12:30
update #2: alright it's coming to a close. -3/27/2017
update #3: and it's complete! I hope you all like this it is different from what I normally write, but this was requested by a friend. It is about a group of people who are not normal. And the character of which the poem is told from is A.) a girl and B.) in love with her close friend, but has difficulty saying so.

Again I hope you liked it!
L Smida Dec 2012
Since when was I so **** serious?!
I've been trying to change for you
That I've lost my best features
I've forgotten how to joke around
But today I found myself
Shook hands and reunited
And it feels so ******* good
I made jokes about everything
I found myself out of my quiet shell
I'm back to my old self
Not being able to take anything I do seriously
Laughing at myself is my favorite thing to do
Being a ******* goofball
That's what I am
And it just feels so **** good
Come on...
Being serious is no ******* fun at all
So from now on
I will never change for anyone
Because when I'm not me
I don't know who I am
Or who I'm trying to be
And it feels so wrong
That's probably why nothing has ever worked out for me before
Cause I'm a ******* idiot
Wow does it feel good to smile a real smile. Those fake ones hurt so bad
BarelyABard Dec 2012
Im sorry dad but this bottle makes more sense than those cryptic psalms ever would.
Im sorry mom but the world isnt what you wish it was and you did the best you could.

These crazy people screaming at each other like a train whistle blaring heading straight into a lake.
The devil on my shoulder laughing, singing, dancing, watching chaos become all its born to be.
The angel on my shoulder crying, preaching, misbehavin holding signs against a ******* company.

****** preacher man and ****** uncle sam cant you see that you see that all you do is spill the pork and beans?
Ill sit and cigar haze and my *** and beer soak daze and wish youd all just shut your ******* mouths.

I'm sorry dad but this bottle makes more sense than those cryptic psalms ever would.
Im sorry mom but the world isnt what you wish it was and you did the best you could.
caroline Oct 2014
i still remember my shaken up nerves, and god my shaking body, after our lips pressed against each other's for the first time. still, months later, my hands tremble when you reach for mine and ****** i can't help but kiss you and taste the names of our unborn children we've named, along with the rest of the plans i swore for you to never make with me. and it's crazy (or maybe i am) because i find myself wishing on 11:11, AM and PM, for "i do" to someday be exchanged between us two.
my mother always warned me about the boys with soft eyes and sugared words, but never did she warn me about the girl with long hair and cold hands.
Ston Poet Dec 2015
Uhh..Young Ston Poet..
**** America, They really ain't doing nothing for us but causing mayhem & more trouble.. **** America.. (Yeah2)..America,don't give no ***** about what country is terrorizing us,its all lies propaganda, all they care for is that (dollar2)..bill dawg, that's all..its time to start realizing that before we all are silenced..Uhh, **** America,.. Yeah they really don't give a **** about us bru..man they rather see us killing each other & beefing over some dumb ****, they rather see us in these streets (doing nothing2)..but thuggin.. So (we gone **** Yeah4)..but we gone **** against America my *****...
(**** America2)..(Yeah2)...(**** America3)..(Yeah2)..
/(**** America3)..( Yeah2)../2
(We gone **** Yeah
3)..We gone **** against America man,..

We gone stand together dawg. We gone overcome..Yeah, we gone take back our control, Yeah we gone, (overthrow2), all of this corruption, that's in front of us dawg, **** America, Yeah, they been lying to us for years & years, we still slaves mentally, got ****** mane, am I the only person who realize this, its like a witch has put a Ray Charles curse on all of us, the way we just let all of this fucc **** go on & on over our heads & just do nothing man..***** we so trapped, ***** we ain't free, Aye..
We need to wake up before its just to late & stop being so gullible & blinded by this curropt government.. **** America *****, Noo they don't want us to be nothing.. They rather just see us be bums man..They rather see us, be Thugs..well (Yeah we gone ****
3)..We Thuggin, against America, we standing up for what is rightful ours, We taking care  of each other..Uhh..

Shoutout to all of my real leaders, that's still here doing they **** thing man..Its so many false prophets just telling lies,&  brainwashing our minds yeah making us into human robots, we working hard for nothing.. **** America my *****, don't trust em, or don't follow after them..Only God, my ***** don't even follow me, my ***** follow yoself, look up to yoself, be yo own leader man..Yeah..Uhh
Stand up for what's real,..Uhh..
/(**** America3)..(Yeah2)../2

Uhh,..The end of days is coming soon mane, I can feel it, ****, its like its so close my *****, I can taste it..Uhh its so much death around me dawg, can't you smell it my *****, Wake yall ***** up, dawg its America that has been the real terrorists this whole **** time my *****..Yeah America is IsIs,..& they tryna make it seem like its just Afghanistan man..Noo its not just them, the whole government system is, they always lying to us homie..
I'm going hard , like a lion, I'm wit my pacc, OFTR, we hungry & we fighting, Yeah we ready for war,..Ayee, its bout to get violent, Uhh..Only For The Real ., Im real ****** companion..I got my own campaign man, Yeah..but you don't even gotta vote for me *****..
I'm electing myself...Aye

(**** America
2)..(Yeah2)..(**** America3)..(Yeah2)..(**** America2)..(**** em4)..(**** America2)..(Yeah2)..Uhh..(**** em3)..(**** America2)..
They don't give a **** about us..(Noo
2,)Uhh,my *****,Noo..
They don't give a **** about us at all ..So..
(**** America8)
(Yeah
2)..Uhh..We gone **** Yeah..We gonna **** Yeah...(**** America2),..Yeah *****.. We gonna **** Yeah..We gone **** Yeah..We gonna **** Yeah..(**** America2)..Yeah ***** we gonna **** Yeah..***** we gone **** Yeah..
/We gone **** Yeah..,We gonna **** Yeah, we gone (****3)..Yeah/2
(**** America2)..(Yeah2)
We gonna **** Yeah..We gone **** *****,Yeah we gonna **** *****..(**** America2)..We gonna **** Yeah..

OFTR man, we bout to start so many **** riots all across the world man, so yeah you better beware,Cuhz we bringing so much chaos & destruction to the white house kitchen table, now eat that up Obama, Uhh..you only betraying us behind our backs anyway..**** *****, you a ***** *** president.. Along wit the rest of them , Aye man Instead of being a puppet on a string my *****..(Imma be whoever I wanna be, Yeah
2)..Imma be me my *****..I spit  my own verses & I clean  my own **** , no man can take control of me *****..Yeah..
(I'm gone **** Yeah..I'm gonna **** *****, yeah3)
**** America

(**** America
3..)Yeah2)
They don't care about us they just want us all dead..They don't want us to be nothing Yeah..
So..(**** America
3)..(Yeah2)
They can *******..They can all burn in hell...
President Obama is a Uncle Tom ***** *** *****..Yeah..(**** America
3)..(Yeah*4)
stonpoet.tumblr.com
Elizabeth Feb 2015
Aren't we going to be late for the dentist?
What are mom and dad talking about on the phone?
Why is Dad swearing so much?
How come we can't go to my dentist appointment anymore?
What's on TV?
.. Why is that building falling?
Why aren't the news reporters talking?
Why is dad crying?
"Why won't you let me watch the TV, dad?"
Am I supposed to be crying?
What's happening to us?
Why is everything bad?
How did we let this happen?
Why does everyone hate everyone?

------

Why would she call me while she's at work?
Doesn't she know we're going to the dentist?
"What?"
Why would she joke about this?
Why is she crying if she's joking?
... Why is that building falling?
Dear god how did this happen?
****** why am I crying?
Are those people jumping out of windows?
Why are they killing themselves?
Someone will save them, right?
Why is my daughter still watching this?
Why am I watching this?
How could someone do this?
Jesus, is that a second airplane?
How many people will they save?
How many will die?
We were supposed to go to my dentist appointment on 9/11/01, but Dad figured it could wait.
Sam Conrad May 2014
The boy inside my head remembers the girl inside yours.
He wants to tell you that he still loves you...that he'll love you forever.
He wants to tell you he's trapped and all alone.
He sits in his cell scratching the days onto the wall.
He draws pictures of your face and imagines holding your hand.
If he ever gets to talk to you again, he pictures what he'd say...
He would do anything for you to give him another chance.
He knows he's a boy and he wishes he didn't have to be.
But that boy inside his head didn't get a say on if he got to be a boy or not.
He wishes that you'd open yourself up to let him care for you again.
He wishes that you'd let yourself be the reason that he lives again.
He wishes a lot.
He wishes too much.
He fears none of them won't come true but he can't stop because it keeps him alive.
He envisions that chance. That he would take it slow and show you his love.
That it would be the deepest display of emotion ever to come from him.
He knows all too well you're not fond of boys- he's almost sorry he is one.
But he loves you. He loves you so much. You're so beautiful to him.
A beautiful person, not a beautiful girl.
He misses you.
He misses you so much.
The world stops when you hug him.
His heart flutters just thinking about it, still.
You're heavenly to him. You took him places he'd never been before.
Places he may never be again.
You see, he wishes he could put into words for you, the feeling...
He never needed anything more than your cuddles and hugs.
Like a living, breathing, soft and loving security blanket, you were...
Nothing in his life ever more peaceful than your arms or the touch of your lips.
He never needed ***...please don't make it about ***...
What he really needed was you.
He prays to a God he no longer believes in that maybe he could have a reason to believe again.
He loves you, Elizabeth Raine. He loves you so **** much.
He knows that's not enough.
He will never be enough.
You were once the reason he lived...
You're now the reason he wants to die.
You dumped him like utter trash and he still couldn't get over you.
You said things that ripped out his soul. Acted like he had no soul to begin with...
But ******, he loved you. He loves you. Like he promised, he always will.
Your girly parts play no part. He wishes you'd understand how much deeper this is than that.
How much you mean to him.
How much you'll always mean to him, how you'll always be his sweet girl.
At least, how he wishes you'd be his sweet girl once more.
He wishes he could show you...that he could find a way.
Tears roll down his face like the first rain of May.
He just wants to be enough to experience heaven one more time...
I'm afraid to inform him that heaven's long gone...
Its not even in existence to experience anymore...
But he'd **** himself...I can't push myself to let him know...
He bought a ticket to hell.
I love you. I miss you everyday. I hope you're doing fine. I hope she treats you well.
I wish I could sleep forever so I could go back to your arms again.

I hope you're not reading this. If you did, you just hugged him.
Just know it gives him the best feeling in the world, even still.
He tries so hard to forget he wants it everyday.
Tawanda Mulalu Nov 2014
I.

Let me tell you right now that red is my favourite colour
But I got it on with blue, some would say that that’s a blunder
I wonder is… infidelity the vibe of this poem?
Some secret guilt in my mind, that I’ve decided to be owning

Up to, I've got to, spill it out of my heart
I've had no idea what to say, but I've commited to start
A statement that’s an indictment to romantic commitment-
So let’s face it: when it comes to love, haven't all of us been sinning?

At some point, nobody can claim to never ever have smirked
At their own version of the colour red in hoping that it might work
Even though your girl’s colour is blue and you know that this much is true…
You kinda now desire sunsets instead of plain skies; and thus seek a more maroon hue


Skies change with the sun, time influences that
But listen, honestly, what I feel, it’s deeper than that

Blue and red seem only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum
But actually flow into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum

So my real problem is denial: I'm not really interested in swinging back
Because whenever I see red again…I can't help thinking that blue is just a fade to black.


And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…


II.

Literature taught me that cheating is immoral but understandable
From the point of Gatsby and Daisy it’s not even that reprehensible
The thing is, I still see the American Dream in another colour
No red, white and blue and great starry flag of wonder

But being honest to the context I should only omit the white
And keep red and blue; so it follows that my greed is merely self-directed spite
In this way I am suggesting a hint of hatred towards myself
As I’m unable to colour-block my view of my colourless self

I mean that I'm disappointed in being able to reduce
Myself to old, novel characters…as a result I have deduced
That blue and red don't matter when my true colours are grey
I’m ashamed in having even having tried (and failed) to pick (just one).
But all the same…


Skies change with the sun, time influences that
But listen, honestly, what I feel, it’s deeper than that

Blue and red seem only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum
But actually flow into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum

So my real problem is denial: I'm not really interested in swinging back
Because whenever I see red again…I can't help thinking that blue is just a fade to black.


And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…
And black scares me because it represents…


III.

Though I'm still wishing that… her sunset becomes my sunrise, and envelops the sky
But regretting… her blue fades away, painfully, I’m left to die
As the sun will too soon turn to night, driving me to gentle panic
I know this now: colourless people always beg for a rainbow because they can never have it.

...******.

I apologize to blue for making her feel even bluer.
I apologize to red for using her to make me feel better.
I’m sorry to myself for making myself so bitter.
So suddenly has my soul, become colder than this winter...

Thus the part of the poem where I conclude with the theme
Of the echoes within me which of course are only dead dreams
I had looked to you, red and/or blue, in hoping you could redeem
Me to your world of colour. But present reality is different, which can only mean
That...


Skies changed with the sun, time influenced that
But listen, honestly, what I felt, was deeper than that

Blue and red seemed only to be opposite colours of the visible spectrum
But actually flowed into one another, from point A to B, like a pendulum

So my real problem was denial, I wasn't really interested in swinging back
Because whenever I saw red again… I couldn't help thinking that blue was just a fade to black.


And black scared me because it represented…
And black scared me because it represented…
And black scared me because it represented…
And black scared me because it represented…
This is a somewhat edited version of a spoken-word piece I did for a poetry show called 'Verbal Emancipation.' The raw version is up on my blog at http://lifeinthethirdperson.blogspot.com/2014/11/colour.html.
Daniel Peters Oct 2013
******!
I can't get this together.
Everything is falling apart.
Life is losing its meaning and I can't fix it.
******!
Time is truly against me and I can't change it.
I'm losing it. I'm losing it.
........ I can't get it.
I lost. I'm utterly defeated.
I'm done. I'm through. This world is just going to spit me up.
I already know it.
I'm alone on this.
I might as well leave everyone.

Whoa there sparky.
Time to calm yourself.
Firstly, breathe.
You can do this.
You have everything and I mean EVERYTHING you need.
All the resources and equipment are sitting in front of you.
Your life, is just at a fork in the road.
Like Robert Frost, "Take the road less traveled by. It'll make all the difference."
Secondly, grab a Coke from the fridge, eat an apple, watch a movie.
You've been through worse remember?
The world is trying to break you.
It's done it before, but never again.
You made a promise to yourself remember?
You were going to seize all opportunities and stop half-assing everything.
THIS IS ONE OF THOSE OPPORTUNITIES!
Do not back down! Not on this.
Grab the world by its ear and yank until it submits.
You! Got! This!
Thirdly and most importantly,
Be patient.
All of these things that you do have a way of working out.
You've noticed it. I know you have.
Be patient with yourself.
You are your own worst enemy.
And you know who's stronger.
It's time to do this.
Get up, breathe, get creative.
Time is nothing now.
It will come to your side when you're winning.
Hey bro........ it's time.
John Thomas Aug 2010
To Bailey
What up cousin? It’s been a  while since we’ve spoken..
I’ve been tryin to keep my mind focused and stayin open..
tryin to figure out how to rebuild my heart again now that it’s broken..
hopin and prayin to some god that it’s all a dream an I’ll be awoken..

But I’m not an ignorant or irrational man, so it’s back to life as I know it..
now I sit here with pen in hand, talking to another lost loved one as a poet..
*******, every time it seems to get a little harder and harder to be stoic..
I do it for you, but my choice would have been to find a rock and hide far below it..

But I’ve held you down, an showed the world a face with a sculpted smile..
Meanwhile inside I strong armed my stomach to prevent the expulsion of bile..
mind racing, god ******!!! Just 29 years is nowhere near a long enough while!!
and to think, you barely even got to spend 3 of those with your child..

It makes me want to shout to the stars and curse our own existence..
I guess I learned I can’t box god due to something about my arms and the distance..
so I’ve given up being angry about it and stopped my resistance..
but the one thing it’s affected more than any other is my persistence..

From time to time I’m gonna ask someone “has anyone told you they loved you today?”
and if they say no, I’ll be the first person to show them a sincere display…
YOU taught me that bailey, and no matter what, I’ll never let it slip away…
I can’t thank you enough for your life, I wouldn’t even know how to repay!

It’s those small perfect lessons we can all take from your life…
I couldn’t even begin to tell them all in the course of one night…
you were an amazing person to anyone who met you, a true delight..
people called you a shiner, a catalyst, a loving father, and a white knight…

everyone had a story of how you had given them inspiration..
I can’t thank you enough on behalf of the world for your donations!
I’m glad I could finally write this letter to show my appreciation..
the words had been escaping me with some trepidation..

I love you Bailey, always have and always will!!
I can’t believe you’re gone but I carry on still…
I soldier up when I need to then settle down to chill…
I’ll see you when I see you, you know the drill…

Rest In Peace: Bailey Paul McKeon-Phillips
By John Thomas

http://johnsbigpicture.blogspot.com

— The End —