"diffrence" poems
Do you ever feel closed?
Do you ever wonder what’s out there?
Or you are just stuck on who and why and where?
You swallow it all, are you ever opposed?
Does it scare you when you are exposed?
Do you lust for the things behind the wall?
Do you ever cry down and pray,
that you may see more, atleast for a day?
Can you stand alone, or you are just somebody’s thrall?
Can you grasp the thing, that you are small?
Can you imagine nothing?
Do you have a hole that needs to be filled?
What will be of you if in this instant you are killed?
Do you ever feel the insides of your skull buzzing?
Do you think salvation lies in the den of our loving?
What is your purpose, what are you for?
Did ever, that question took your breath?
Is there a diffrence between life and death?
Did you ever want to break out and explore?
Is there a thing in your life that you want to adore?
At the thought of these questions I shake to the bone.
My puzzled desires to know can never sit on a chair.
I need them satisfied like I need air.
I’m just a thing that wants all sides to be shown.
I just want to get a scope to the unknown.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
everyone have it but somebody owns,
dont who have money they are unknown,
it makes a diffrence standard in a crowd,
if it's literally impressing it speaks loud,
sometime it's ignored considering it diffrent,
people reject it but every one,
is unique and diffrent,
it gives info it consists behaviour,
it is remind by
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
Arms, legs, body and head,
you can not deny it,
we are just a plague widespread.
Across me sits this smelly man,
I see in him nothing but an orangutan.
I look at his face, look at his hands,
there is nothing more than a monkey in pants.
I try to think of how does he think,
but what do I know;
I’m written by the same ink.
Years and years, nothing but a lion’s purse,
now seconds passed,
we think we are masters of the universe.
A load of meat floating on a rock,
I guess we are lucky,
but we haven’t even learned to walk.
We hope and dream our dreams,
we want to achieve,
but everything is wrong when it’s not how it seems.
Everyone is a god, everyone is supreme;
When their belly is full,
everyone lives in his own dream.
But take away the feast,
get in their way;
Man becomes the most savage of beast.
We haven’t lost that jungle sense,
no diffrent than animals,
our population is just more dense.
But I guess we are noble in a way,
that’s the greatest irony of all;
Because I know how to say what I can say.
Ape does not know that he is ape,
he does not know the diffrence between an apple and a grape.
He does not even know if his own kin he rapes;
but for **** sure we should know,
that we are nothing but the next-level apes.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
For some reason untold
I feel nothing when I write these words
They used to be my refuge
When the world was crashing down
Yet, for some reason
They don't mean so much now
For some reason
I read the things
That pours from another's heart
How these words are keeping them
From being torn apart
For some reason
I wanna let it go
what was its meaning?
I no longer know
For some reason
I can't understand
My poetry dosen't mean...
Anything
I figure
What's the point
If my words
No longer
Want to be heard
I'll still write
I just won't share
It won't make the diffrence I always dreamed
If no one cares
For some reason
I think it's time
To give up my rhymes
Set down the pen
And when I pick it up again....
Maybe they'll listen
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
Never let the voice that whispers softly in your ear .
Dictate the direction of your soul.
As in his embrace you find passion but do you know truth?
Make no diffrence between the two.
For a fools logic often allows passion to blur the reallity .
For in blood promises writen agreements seem easy till the price need be paid.
Locked doors will not shield you from a end simply create your tomb .
On full moons and othet dark ocassions often there is light even within the darkness.
Did the promise not live up to the truth my dear.
Did that temptation just seem to sweet to deni .
We can ignore are nature but we are carnal animals just the same.
Death finds us empty as alone we must enter to whatever may be .
Never make promises your not willing to keep.
And so in your demise the whispers softly as they were spoken from a forgotten lovers release .
Were still lies just the same.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
There is a room
In a small highschool
Where the teenage
Heart aches
Came to die
On a couch where
the poets
came to lie
And contemplate
The diffrence
between dying
and suicide
While the future
Directors
organized
Asking whether
she was ugly enough
to be beautifully alive
Or just dead inside
Such a place
Such Liberty
Watch your children
For in this
On the couch where
the poets came to lie
and the directors
conversed
in the small highschool
There
They learned what it feels
Like to be alive
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 3:51 PM UTC
you said i love you i said it to the only diffrence is i didnt lie to you .
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
My past confronts me still it was a mistake i will never make again.
I moved on from her but i may have found another but the diffrence i that i still care about the other but i
am not gonna wait for something i cant attain my feelings are minor i just want to live life when in
general everybody's time comes sometime i just want to have something that is gonna heal me up 100%
Soul searching is one thing i have done for ever because i know what IT is nothing more than to hold me
back because i admit i am not the guy you expect to be there because you see the one flaw is my gain.
I am gonna be the guy who succeeds i am the guy who is always over looked then i just wait for a
A good thing in my life is not someone it is me being happy nothing more as much as i want someone
to care about me i can only hope...
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
All around the world there's no diffrence in love,
a picture w draw with our thinkings,
have to fill colours of lover's likings,
and which is marked by a swet smile and a tight hug,
which helps to come out when situations are struck,
and it take away th stress,
which wakeup the happiness,
a beautiful journey having bright but daring paths,
which both have to come as the life long they last's,
it's not a spacebound,
it's a temple in which calmness and satisfaction is all around,
and a happy ending is left behind,
when a unbreakable we find,
like all things we see in space and wonder,
similar to it can make disaster many times more than a bundle of thunder,
it comes as the sunlight,
but never left our heart untill we fought our life's last fight,
but it brokes,
it break all the limitatoins feeling's and hopes..
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
To taste the red burst of rippened tomatoes
that catch a summer's glee whose
shouts run down airconditioned malls of daffodils
to reach butterscotch ends
To catch naive dewdrops on their final wave
-- gleeful regardless of their fleeting demise
on leaffy budettes as they hitchhike on blushing shins
that touch for just a second
To receive the cricket's call
and hang on their every word like
how the stars do on the night sky velvet
hung taut to stop the dreamer's upward freefall
To reverbrate down hymns
and ***** pipes whose rust subdued
by caramel oaken spirits and
cigars rolled with rebellion
To watch the twinkle of eyes
that unroll before me cinemated
like the rhythmic popping of corn seeds
and the anticipation of childlike hands
To surf the last yawn and sigh
whose ebb and flow crash on
pristine beds -- that soothes and prickles the ears
where the mind remains calm and restless
To sit with 4am and drink
tea or coffee (whichever it desires)
and have hours of conversation before
its teary depature
To the pilgrims' call of the first train
The satisfaction of staying vigil
simmers in the insomniac's stovetop
that seems to be low on gas
The need of slumber seems trivial at most
for dreaming has never known the diffrence
between being awake or asleep
or could this just be my mind that flurries
like jackrabbit thumps and heffalump nightmares
and honey dripping down my boyish chin
and mother napkins and lush lullabies
that whisper "go to sleep"
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
In Mama's life her only worry,
Should be if she's at home in time to watch her story.
Not bills paid, money owed, or if she can make it.
There's a big diffrence between "Borrow it" and "Take it"
Worries that she'll break a bone from the meds she can't afford.
Part D is joke, Ain't that what Medicare is for?
And If they did pay cash, What would happen to the Horde?
The old man, He's still working, just to feed the tribe.
Wondering if he quits will the others stay alive?
Never used to worry if the sky turned into gray.
Now wondering what he'll do if it were to rains for days.
The tribe they don't care, I don't think they even wonder,
Just who is gonna feed them once the bank is 6 feet under?
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 9:18 AM UTC
Sitting, where winds cut through my face
No reactions
Where black and heavy rain drenches trees in mudgreen
Only alcohol
Where cups fill with tears and lungs with smoke
Can't breath
My minds in a diffrence place
Where? Between your arms
Only warmth
Where? Between your legs
Only pleasure
Where? Behind your lips
Only truth
Where were you
All the time
Where was your mind
We kissed
Where did you belong
Not there?
Where do I belong
If not here
Alone
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
Hate love which one are we made of?
Hate is so powerful!
When love is weak but harmless
Hate!
Love!
Which one do we choose?
It's tearing me apart...
What do I do?
I can't do anything about it!
No one can!
I'm just a little speck on this big planet...
I won't make a diffrence
So what's point?
When dying isn't a choice?
What do I do?
Tell me please...
-Francis Tolentino
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
Oh god, I can not see.
It’s all starting to get blurry to me.
Face to face, everything’s the same,
it seems I’m out of the game.
There is no diffrence between right and wrong.
This is not the same old happy song.
Walking the street,
don’t know who to greet.
They’re all moving sticks,
as long as m’ clock ticks.
Maybe there’s something good,
’cause I don’t got no more mood.
Lost my inner goose,
got nothing to lose.
All the gates are shut,
working on my gut.
This somehow might be right,
but I’m still losing my sight.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
...I tried M&M's that evening, and I dunno, they were tasty.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLII)
If languid hours trick out these wastes til hence
I feel within my bones that April'd hail
Soon, what's the diffrence now in sheer betrayl,
That March looks cold and grey, as if suspense
Was buried in deep slumber like fr'intents
Last May's old tulip bulbs? Snow's weary scale
Of white is aged; no icicles detail
The silent eaves, and I feel dull sans whence.
Yes, poor man's tea with breakfast was good, fer
All that, but not inspiring. Sparrows, too,
Cried sweetly as I passed the window, poor
As never feeling like it should be to
Effect worth half a note. And soup in tour
Now warming as rolls rise, what's left to woo?
07Mar19b
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 10:05 PM UTC
I love chocolate chip cookies. Not for the taste of it, however, more
for the fun. Every chocolate chip cookie is diffrent. Every
bite you take is new. Each bite has a different ratio of
chip to dough. Its like a mini adventure for the mouth. Not only that but depending on where you take a bite makes a diffrence. The edges are crispy and golden, while the center is gooy and warm. You can compare a chocolate cookie to life and find a whole lot of similarities. Life is an adventure. Every moment is diffrent. And you can dictate that moment with your choices. Like you can choose to eat the end with the most chips or dive right into the mouthwatering dough. So yes, I love chocolate chip cookies, but not for their taste.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 6:59 PM UTC
and there was a Fiona,
and me working the Edinburgh
***** nightclub
picking empty glasses
from the parkiet...
emptying ****** into
bottles of beer,
getting cornered by skinhead
homos eager for a blow...
Fiona...
played her the mandolin,
outside her window like
a ******* twised Romeo...
rod steward's maggie may...
then there was Janina,
a love worthy of a canvas,
and a rose... roses bewilder women...
not ough pearl or oyster shells
on them... come next spring...
like any Dutch tulip addiction...
frivolous scoop...
n'ah... this ***** hit the bull's eye
of the bell tower...
ich troje's song
zawsze z tobą chciabym być...
a commoner party song...
became a critique of my skull...
as she deemed it,
the protruding occipital of Africans...
and the squashed, flat "missing"
protrusion was a sign of degeneracy...
even though we shared the same ancestor...
from a pop song...
toward a flat occipital...
wheat-gob bulging jawline
of African Amricans?
they stick corn cobs in there or what?
come on... even Somalia pirates
know the diffrence between not liking
a pleb song, and making comments
about the ******* cranium...
oh wait... and all of this...
in art class...
so I sketched an answer for her...
her youth...
eyes with no pupils and no iris,
pure sclera... looking into a mirror
and a babushka...
if they **** for a reward
of 72 virgins...
god give me strength...
anticipating 72 doberman
or alsatians, or rottweiler puppies...
too much fictive love,
when the reality demands...
once upon a time,
when a young couple were
to be married,
the parents of both bride
and groom...
invested in...
the rewards of retirement,
and the anticipation of reinvigoration
by youth in the format of
grandchildren...
now?
oh you know the subsequent script...
**** off.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:11 PM UTC