"draggin" poems
•□• Can't shake this mist •□•
Draggin' paged swords down my stomach,
Split my opal skin
wide open
▪ccrack▪
find a sunset gushing out
¤twist¤
can't swap the dead sea
and the larkstone coffin
in my cherry-blossom throat
°scatter°
All these razor droplets
'◇quiver,◇'
bronze scraping at my jawline
/|\groan/|\
And look yonder---
a lonely crow
whispered louder than thunder
'''scratch'''
•□• Can't shake this mist •□•
....
Come back to haunt me,
but my poetry already has me
six feet under.
¥ Demons ¥
€ squirm €
in
the
₩ Soil. ₩
"We aren't any different now, are we?"*
.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Doctor, Doctor, did u hear?
There's a new infection coming near.
It starts with a flush and then a blush,
Then gets down right scaly in a rush.
It's nothing other than the dreaded disease,
It's called Dragon **** if you please.
First you're numb
About the bumb.
Then you itch!
What a *****
Then out grows the scales,
Watch out for the tails!
Just heed this warning, secretaries out there,
Dragon **** can catch you unaware.
Look out for the numbness, the itching, the scales.
Avoid the dryness, the burning, and flails.
There's nothing worse to work all day,
Draggin' **** is no way to play.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 4:49 PM UTC
Johnny and Mary
Now Johnny knew Mary since they were little tykes,
Running in the field, riding their bikes,
Like other little kids, they stayed out all day,
Doing their chores, later they'll play,
Johnny and Mary went to school,
Tried real hard, act real cool,
Johnny noticed Mary started to grow real fine,
Nice firm ******* big behin',
Johnny thought he'd take him a chance,
He asked Mary to the high shool dance,
Mary said fine, pick me up at eight,
Dress real sharp, now don't be late,
Johnny started thinkin' this could be his night,
Throw her a line, maybe she'll bite,
Johnny and Mary started to dance real slow,
Something in Johnny's pants, startin' to grow,
Johnny asked Mary to spend some time,
Back at my place, we can sit and unwind,
Johnny took Mary straight back to his pad,
This will be the best night, he's ever had,
Poured a little wine and dimmed the light,
Made sure everything, looked just right,
Went over to the stereo and put on a song,
Then he gave her a kiss, slow and long,
Their lips met and their tongues did a dance,
As Johnny reached down and undid his pants,
He removed hers too and went to town,
Got on his knees, he was going down,
Mary started to wiggle, moan and squirm,
As Johnny's tool got nice and firm,
A few more licks, a feel and a pet,
Mary's hole was nice and wet,
Stuck in the tip, a little poke,
Then all the way, he was startin' to stroke,
As Johnny got busy and started to ream,
All the neighbors could hear Mary scream,
Johnny got tense and was about to explode,
Into Mary he shot his load,
A few days later Mary felt real ill,
Then she remembered, she forgot her pill,
Mary gave birth to a fine looking son,
Mary's father started to clean his gun,
Johnny married Mary at City Hall,
He didn't want her dad to cut off his *****
Johnny got a job so he could provide support,
He didn't want Mary draggin' him to court,
A few years down the road things didn't seem right,
Johnny and Mary were starting to fight,
There was a whole lotta fussin' and they began to shout,
Mary told Johnny she wanted him out,
Mary got a lawyer, just passed the bar,
Now Mary's driving Johnny's brand new car.
That is the story of Johnny and Mary...Later...
07-03-09.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:31 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Your ***** - my ***** - our ****** gone
Over 5000 people were there to morn
So when I hear you callin him I get real torn
And emotionally become a bit forlorn
Your ***** – my ***** –our ****** dead
What’s it gonna take to get that through your head
Some blame it on the kinda life he led
But I blame it on all y’all instead
Your ***** – my ***** everywhere I go
Our ****** dead - act like you know
It’s become a sport or some kinda game
To casually evoke his name in vain
Your ***** – my ***** – our ***** is
Turning in the grave site where he lives
All the while wonderin what the hell gives
And I ain’t jiving you I’m talkin square biz
Your ***** – my ***** – our ****** gone
Out of pain and struggle our ***** was born
The object of ridicule and also scorn
Now the mention of his name only brings a yawn
Your ***** – my ***** – our ****** at rest
After all he’s been through he deserved no less
But y’all like to drop his name nevertheless
No respect for the dead if I was to guess
Your ***** – my ***** – our ***** died
But y’all still call him like he was alive
If the truth be told then you would confide
Nothin I said can be denied
Your ***** – my ***** our ***** too
Carried himself the way most ****** do
Pants fallin down draggin at his shoe
Actin as if he had a missin *****
Your ***** – my ***** our ***** was
Characterized by what a ***** does
Everywhere he goes he creates a buzz
Your ***** – my ***** – our ****** gone
Out of pain and struggle our ***** was born
The object of ridicule and also scorn
Now the mention of his name only brings a yawn
Your ***** – my ***** – our ***** see
Met with a horrible tragedy
So he’s not here he ceases to be
Anything other than a memory
Free at last free at last at last he’s free
Your ***** – my ***** – our ***** gave
Everything he had when he was enslaved
Finally at rest in a six foot grave
And all we’re left with is his name to save
Your ***** – my ***** - our ****** through
But then again I think somehow you knew
To a ****** code the ***** was true
Now letting him go is the thing to do
Your ***** – my ***** – our ***** left
But none of y’all act as if you are bereft
Your ***** – my ***** – our ****** gone
Out of pain and struggle our ***** was born
The object of ridicule and also scorn
Now the mention of his name only brings a yawn
Your ***** - my ***** - our ****** gone
Over 5000 people were there to morn
So when I hear you callin him I get real torn
And emotionally become a bit forlorn
Your ***** – my ***** –our ****** dead
What’s it gonna take to get that through your head
Some blame it on the kinda life he led
But I blame it on all y’all instead
Your ***** – my ***** everywhere I go
Our ****** dead - act like you know
It’s become a sport or some kinda game
To casually evoke his name in vain
Your ***** – my ***** – our ***** is
Turning in the grave site where he lives
All the while wonderin what the hell gives
And I ain’t jiving you I’m talkin square biz
Your ***** – my ***** – our ****** gone
Out of pain and struggle our ***** was born
The object of ridicule and also scorn
Now the mention of his name only brings a yawn
(c) Copyright 2015. Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
Come the auroras and infinite landscapes –
Tangents wrought outright constants,
Parallels perched perpendicular outrights,
So to call your ellipse,
When the orbit’s outstretched
Landing meetings where we’d at least
Learn to alter tomorrow.
It’s stellar silly, and paths primordial,
Leaving my layovers for the trials
And abandoned, the moon’s to forever follow you;
So to composed and formulae proofed
Come the time you mother said,
"He’s just a coma
And dust best left forgotten."
Quit draggin’ me to space baby.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
Gag gag and gargle
Draggin’ through the muck of
That place you said you’d never go back to
Screamin’ like a devil in the dark
The bump and grind of his *****
Bump and grind
Got you buckin’ backwards like a
Bulldog
But we both know you should’a’ never brought a dog
To a gun fight
Too late for tears darlin’
Bite lipped quivers never saved a soul
Can hear the fear in the breaks for sobs
The door to his apartment never beckoned
But you broke down the doors
Like you had something to prove
Bent you bilaterally like
The corner you backed yourself into
So perfect in your symmetry
Till you left me for him
Now you got the heart-sag
Jaw dropped
Dope fiend look
Tearing up at the sky
And the flowers
White powder pluggin up your nose holes
Can’t smell the **** on your knees now
Or the muck you got stuck in
You said I wasn’t as fun as he was
As he is
I never wanted to save you anyway
I just thought it was beautiful
The way you praised me for the things I say
And the way I say ‘em
Ya know
I got blasted backwards
By the backlash of you leaving
Kicked up so much dust in the rubble
And left me dizzy with the rumble
Of your feet fleeing the song of some ***** stomp
Headin’
Farther and farther away from safety
At least I was safe
I wasn’t bitter
Even my bite was gentle
Kind enough to remind you I still got teeth
But I won’t use ‘em
So before you leave me
Again
Take the burden
The baggage
The weight of my shoulders
The wait for the phone call sayin’ you finally
****** up and died on me
The mix tapes
The t-shirts
The memories of every moment my heart kept sayin’
“She won’t stay
But hold her for as long as she’ll let you”
Take it all
And go
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 5:03 AM UTC
folks
this is the last song of the evening
time for one last round
so pick 'em up and
slam 'em down...
couples headin'
to the dance hall floor
some lonesome doves
walkin' out the door
take a look around
into the lonely fa-ces
broken hearts
yearnin' for tender gra-ces
see the hopeful eyes
lookin' back at you
you've seen each other
from across the room
if you act now
you wont be turned awa-y
another day
might be too la-te
oh i know
life ain't been kind
we've got - wounded hearts
but there's still time
so - here's a chance
ya never know
tho it's
just a dance
it could be more
so ya
take her hand
pull her in real close
music playin'
soft and slow
you close your eyes
as she softly si-ghs
starlit shadows
from a disco globe
we fade to black
on this winding road
lost and lonely
we pay the toll
just one last dance
before we go
just one last da-nce
before we go
and these bitter days
we watch them waste away
into the whiskey nights and
the smoke filled haze
we're singin'
Willie -n- Waylon
pray the music keeps playin'
as we drift away
into this whiskey haze
shadows of a memory
keep draggin' ya down
one last round
you slam it down
you close your eyes
as she soflty si-ghs
gently swayin'
across the floor
starlit shadows
from a disco globe
we fade to black
on this winding road
lost and lonely
we pay the toll
just one last dance
before we go
just one last da-nce
before we go
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
It's finally over your draggin this out
This four leaf clover is burning without a
Doubt
Don't you worry there's no need to
Hurry
We can collect the ashes soon
*This Storm is the norm
I hope the sun shines through
Cause maybe maybe
It's finally over your draggin this out
This four leaf clover is burning without a
Doubt
Don't you worry there's no need to
Hurry
Your lucks already (run) out
And about this tomb it's ghost
Haunts these motion pictures that I
See the most
But these silly superstitions are a
Slave to the fame
Don't O don't don't wake me up
Tonight
All these midnight runs consist of
Cheap beer and wasted breath from (on)
cigarettes
And about this time I found
Such a profound phrase
Life is love we live we need it
Life is love we live we need it
Don't be so ashamed, why are you
Afraid
Of
{return to *}
Life is love we live we need it
Life is love we live we need it
Its such a grace, to hear three words
And to say it
It's finally over, your draggin this out
This four leaf clover is burning without a
Doubt
Don't you worry
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
The Calm(before the Storm)
"It's not often these days that I get to relax,
see the Sandman I'm usually draggin an axe,
with my ex's new fella's head stuck on the spike,
cause it was cut the **** off like I was wielding a pike.
but today I'm very level,no need for medication,
turn the interwebs off,no need for ************
Just me and my clan(the Irish version not the stupid one),
everyone is rollin one smokin one or lightin one,
flip the top off a bottle and contemplate a rattle,
with the lady of the hour all's fair in love and battle.
And this is nice....I like it when people don't flinch,
hear the singin of a Finch as I pinch another inch,
off the the J Jay handed me,a gentleman,a scholar,
lean to me left to pass it on to Mal another,
of the scientific,dapper rapper witty individuals,
that make up the collective that I'm part of,see our principles,
are the one thing that brought us all together,
completely different birds yet all of one feather-
as we feather the nest I smooth the hairs on me chest
and...relax...
cause its the eye of the storm,
time to take stock,huddle up and keep warm,
maybe huddles turn to cuddles as the music moves your feelings,
cause its a warm fuzzy feeling,underneath the same ceiling,
with me mates and me lover,I think I'll have another beer...
Of course I'll have another,
cause we're...safe now,for the moment at least,
from the big bad wolf hulk,the Sandman sleeps,
and while the cats away I can kick up my heels
enjoy the solitude that Skitz rarely feels,
cause the forecast's bleak,those clouds look like thunderstorms,
but just for five minutes I'm relaxed ahhhh...,its the calm before the storm."
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 1:37 PM UTC
You inspire me to be better
Assertive like heaven
Positive vibes move subtle, etheric wheather
Though not as you think
Subtle like beyond view ;
vibe Grand like da right hand of the spectrum
Young driver but
Dis ain't my first vehicle
Sight like, first-eye wise
"Nanotangible"
O sumtm' of da direction
The blessing is
We can all share this space of awareness
If we step correct
No draggin
No shade
Upliftment
Sun rays
But the method take
A lil "calminuity"
Yeah I get fluid like da element
In the Magic of Creation
No disruption
No displacement
Focus like a blade being sharpened
Home is Presence
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 5:09 PM UTC
Rebellion – for too long the status quo,
is, in our day, a predictable show.
Antichrist irony, absurdity
shockingly daring incongruity
no longer shock the bourgeois, you know…
Alone in the temple of glass with a rock,
you’re out of traditional symbols to mock.
Surrealists did it much better than you –
and it meant a lot more in ’32.
You chew your cud on the cattle-wagon
overused shock-tactics (moo ! ) now draggin’
(or herding) aboard the iconoclast train
(b)lowing through boxcars your bovine refrain:
“to, um – make people think…” Oh Lord, how uncouth.
Nihilist narcissus – tell me, what’s Truth?
Must creative always be subversive?
I discern, in your frenzied discursive,
a dull and predictable lack of life.
While you brandish that plastic butter knife
I seem to note, in your constant ******
dearth of artistic ability. Must
bohemian acolytes (some yawning)
ever be deer in the headlights, fawning
before the ironic gesture? It’s sad;
the bitter is sweet but the art is bad…
They circle hors d’oeuvres on opening night
like moths around white wine in candlelight,
cerebrating in a modernist void:
contemporary aesthetes, overjoyed
to know once more that life has no meaning;
the planet is doomed; that kings are queening;
that chic just arrived, escorting philosophy
(Forgive us, Duchamp, for all this monstrosity).
I long for Hudson River School sunsets
Old Dutch Masters, religious art, portraits,
Red, green, or black propaganda-art? NO !
The view does not merit the price of the show.
I’m dada-ed to death, beyond the surreal.
Conceptual gimmicks have failed to conceal
your want of ability, values, and faith
In the book you despise it is written: “thus saith
the fool in his heart: that there is no God…”
You: Postmodern Art – to the firing squad!
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
Coffin Nail
Sing it with me 1 2 3.
Maybe love is not for me.
Could it be my nervous twitch?
Maybe it's my oxy itch.
Build yourself a padded room,
Big enough for him and you.
Straight jacket gray and used.
Cover up your bad tattoos.
Could It be the way you bailed?
I'm draggin on a coffin nail.
Sent our love away to fly.
But baby I still had to try.
Take it till it's not enough.
Moving on is not so tough.
So karma then would be your prize.
Chew it up with all the lies.
And the people that you thought you knew..
built an army who will despise you.
Don't try to hear me now.
How can silence be so loud?
Through everything I seem to fail.
I'm draggin on a coffin nail.
What have you got left to show?
Baby I couldn't sink so low.
An infant left a broken home.
Just so you could spread and roam.
Maybe you won't read this text.
Maybe you won't see whats next.
Baby I can not deny.
I really wanna see you die.
My heart is numb my knees are frail.
I'm still draggin on a coffin nail
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
Thoughts ought to travel softly along thread thin nerves ending in action,
Juggernaut plots, to get me up and out of my stagnant pool of tears and traction,
Who is the Juggernaut, you ask?
That is my task to get behind the mask and lure it out of the shadows,
What person or presence is the task master who'll push me to the gallows
Of defeat. The slow heavy feet, older than the body, the owner of the ugly toes
I am not ready,
I am too young,
My hand is not steady,
I am too high strung,
Looking behind the mask, and into the darkness, the more I look the more I run out of time,
Hands spinning wildly as the Juggernaut defends both the End of and the Beginning of,
Another Year,
Yes it is the Time of the Juggernaut, Happy New Year, relentless promise cupped in two hands,
don't let it slip, from your palms and through your fingers,
a harbinger or bright and shiny hope bringer?
You decide,
It is your year,
Now I must go and slay my Juggernaut, cuz' it is a draggin' me down in flames,
Remember if you feed yours instead of fight, you just might be the taste that
wets your juggernauts' appetite. I have heard...
it stops hurting after the first bite.
©DWE122013
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
Wind the clock
Set it back
Way, way, back
Way back to times before.
Before the battle and after the war
Make it bright to see the light
Feel the pleasure
Feel the pain
Sun fades, moon wanes.
Everything stays the same
But keeps movin forward
Draggin feet on the carousel
Tryin to slow the movement.
Blind to the revolution.
The inevitable return
Closer to the end,
Closer to the beginning
Big bang, big crush
Babe in an incubator,
Old man in a respirator
Travel back to move forward
Return and arrive in the same instant
Fast or slow
As long as it moves
and doesn’t go anywhere
just don’t stop.
Crash! Break!
Break out of the circle
Fight against the tumultuous monotony
Of its suffocating embrace
Concentric circles
Drawing in closer and closer
To a cage in the middle
Walls are closing in
What is outside the circle?
Why can’t we get out?
Who are the gate keepers?
Where are they hiding?
How will we break through?
When will we be free?
Dark days and white knights
Lapping life from the doggy dish
Wearing the wind in our eyes
Think it’s a disguise
But truth is transparent
And the façade is opaque beneath
Get out of the circle
Break the line
Stand still and be delivered outside
Be free
But be wary
For outside lie perils unknown
Sanctity, Sacrifice, Solice
Found in the binding of
Saintly moments.
For it shall be
The summations of good intentions
Which will break us out
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 8:21 AM UTC
This is happening more and more.
It’s ungodly early and we’re tripping on bricks
a pack of feckless teenagers still.
That never changed.
The tall one, skinny with rosy cheeks
and the eyes of a fighter
is holding loosely onto my hand
his nose won’t stop bleeding.
We follow the broad intimidating one
in a red sox hat,
he’s punching every stop sign we pass
and just hollering
how we’ll always stick together
you don’t mess with family
(I’ve known them all for three weeks)
his accent is getting thicker through his swollen lip.
In the rear the shorter one, but still much taller than me,
his hair stuck up in all directions
is still getting his breath back from that sock to the stomach.
We all love that frozen moment, when first punch turns to full on brawl.
Peter says even if you get hit, at least you’re feeling something.
We all taste like bourbon, cause this is the South now.
I’m draggin’ them home in my favorite blue skirt,
two heads shorter at least.
Saying, soon we’ll be home boys, I’ll fix you up then.
Because they’ll fight for me, I fight for them.
Saying stop punching public property, Paul and
Stevie, I’ve got you, don’t cry
The Pats are on tomorrow boys, and we’ve all got work to do.
just a little longer
I find family where I can these days.
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 7:21 PM UTC
Feel my breath blowing like a gale , the gael without fail,
I inhale and exhale the flames of hell,
Born hellbent-repent!
you’re scurrying in gullies while I seek your Scent...
SNIFFFF-grrrrrrrr! -that’s the sound of doom,
You’re better off digging in a pharoh’s tomb,
No room to escape the breath that melts cold steel
You’re a rabbit in my headlights fear my moulten hot claws of steel,
I breathe oxygen and nitrogen to exhale the red hot blast to seal your fate,
Best debate, best berate, get your estate in order one blast of rhyme its all over.
You’re a scorchmark against a granite wall,
Been burnt to a crisp by the firestorm from hell,
Well welcome to hell do you feel the heat?
Sandman slim-dragon never fears defeat,
20 years here spittin’ in the underground,
Now its time to take place in the sound that’s found,
In an Irish no go area, the gates of Mordor,
The Irish Dragon - draggin you to a state of ******
grrrr!-claws like claymore’s rake across your face
as I prepare to ignite,take flight,seal your fate...
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
He went around
and came around, and went around again~
Then he came around, went back around
and came around again.
"What's with all the run-around?"
I asked my breathless friend
"Guess what goes around, will come around
and right up to the end."
"But what's all this you're chasin, then?"
I asked the weary clown~
"Been chasin' all these wimin,
and they've yet to slow me down."
"Who runs this ride, you run beside,
and can't they cut the speed?"
"I have no clue, but maybe you
can jump this thing, and plead."
"One last run around, dear girl
take a ride and wait for me,
it won't be long, enjoy the song,
I'm a sick sorry son of a b."
I hopped aboard his dream machine
where ladies rode the poles
and pushed passed blown out ******
to the room which housed controls.
I peeked inside the window there
and much to my surprise
no one was manning anything
on this carousel of lies.
A sea of lovely lonelies
ride 'The Future' from the past
around again a few more times
our lives are fading fast.
Suddenly he's on the ground
and draggin' on his knees
with sweat upon his forehead,
I said, ******* LET GO, please."
"One last run around, dear girl,
don't you worry none 'bout me
appreciate your deep concern
I'm a sick sorry son of a b".
Well, it took some major doing
to release his grip of fear
and then I jumped, and bruised and bumped
was finally in the clear.
"we've cashed in all our chips today,
but we'll be back, you see-
you push to run the Future
and I'm a freakin' fool for thee.
We hobbled from the Carn-evil,
my weary friend and me
what goes around will come around
dear God please set us free.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
The week's been long and draggin' on.
Our labour's been labourious.
Toilsome tasks have tarried on -
and their ceasing inglorious.
But surely as our souls are spent,
and stamina a-sundered.
the whittled work has come and went,
and out we've come from undered!
And thus, my friend, the week has past.
So here's a rousing raised-glass cheer -
that dreamt-of day descends at last:
Friday Friday, Friday's here!
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 2:43 PM UTC
You may wonder why
I wait so long to write,
when it has long since
been knows that I would
every day.
I assure you it is not
because I am lazy,
although I can be,
but rather because
I am waiting to milk
every ounce of life
out of the day.
If I wrote you in the morning
my words would always be
be bold speaking of how
comfortable my bed is so early
and how I wish you were here with me.
If I wrote you in the afternoon
far too often I would write
in a more traditional fashion
of how I see so many people
and you are greater to me
than any of them.
If I wrote you in the evening
I would without meaning
subtly convey my weariness
towards the world and that
I long for your vibrant energy
to give me strength to start again.
But when I write you in the middle of the night,
when I feel alive of my own accord,
I can share with you the spirit
of this small fraction of life
and how it is always shifting,
constantly draggin me down
and pushing me back up
and how despite all of it,
you are the last thing I think of
so that I may ensure pleasant dreams.
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 8:32 PM UTC
It's just about time you see..
Maybe love is not for me.
Could it be my nervous twitch?
Maybe it's my oxy itch.
Build yourself a padded room,
Big enough for him and you.
Straight jacket gray and used.
Cover up your bad tattoos.
Could It be the way you bailed?
I'm draggin on a coffin nail.
Sent our love away to fly.
But baby I still had to try.
Take it till it's not enough.
Moving on is not so tough.
So karma then would be your prize.
Chew it up with all the lies.
And the people that you thought you knew..
built an army who will despise you.
Don't try to hear me now.
How can silence be so loud?
Through everything I seem to fail.
I'm draggin on a coffin nail.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
ugh!
just one more
time
one more and i can rest
yeaugh!
this freakin stone
is always draggin behind
bringing me down
keepin the time
and i can't even use it
or lose it
it's leashed to me by twine
ugh!
hyeahh!
hhmph!
finally
there
i made it
again
but this is different
there's a scroll here
i open it
it's a reflection of Dwayne Johnson
with my nose and floofy hair
ah sheeit
i AM the rock
the boulder melts
into a T-1000 sized
silver puddle
rises and reforms
as me
we kiss furiously
turns out he's a really nice guy
we shot the **** a while
and have a lot in common
same taste in music and stuff
yeah
we're getting brunch next week
if it goes well
i could really learn
to like me
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 8:41 PM UTC
The crunchy time wheel runs fast and runs slow
The crunchy time wheel knows what it knows
Sometimes it's draggin' and ya feel the laggin'
Sometimes it's spinnin' and ya feel like yer winnin'
Where does the time go?
Does it sink or does it swim?
Is it flyin' or runnin' thin?
Is it hangin' after a Saturday night?
Or the heaviest heavy weight?
Ready for the fight?
Oh crunchy time wheel
Wheelin' along...
Oh crunchy time wheel
Keep truckin' on.
Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 12:08 PM UTC
I got all i need
and i dont care
for anymore
your success
invaded
my failure
no measure for time
spinning wheels
gaining no ground
love draggin me down
in regret
in denial
i could grow and show
you how worthy
i am
but there would
not be a ripple
a stumble
or
second glance
ive grown used
to getting around
unnoticed
unwatched
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC