"dvds" poems
I broke up with McDonalds
On Valentine's day
People said she was no good for me
I had to get away
So I told her, It's not you,
It's just a phase I'm going through
But as we all know -
Dumping fast food is not a pleasant thing to do.
So I broke up with McDonalds, didn't see her for a while
Was doing pretty well - there was the occasional drunk-dial
When I walked up to the window
And I slipped into the queue -
But then I came back to my senses
And realised the thing to do...
Was to keep on walking
Keep on walking
Right past her
Ignore the temptation
To suckle
On those golden arches
Ignore those bed-like burgers
And those oh-so-easy fries
Divide our shared world up
And sever all ties!
Yes! I broke up with McDonalds and my life is better for it
When my girlfriend serves up rabbit food I simply adore it
I was scared of life alone with no kebab to walk me home
But...
What I once spent on burgers...
I now spend on...
Haribo!
Oh Haribo! Haribo!
You are a fruit tree in a sack
And although it feels wrong to see you
Behind my girlfriend's back
She can not be hurt by wrongs she does not know!
No - the new love of my life is Haribo, oh Haribo!
But then one evening after work
My girfriend came home early.
Caught me curled up on the couch
Soaking up her girly
DVDs
In front of me
A bowl of
Not nuts, nor seeds...
But fizzy, yes fizzy,
Cola bottles
That were
FIZZY!
How could you do this?
My girlfriend screamed at me.
Cannot you see the damage that they do-eth to your teeth?
(She'd been reading Shakespeare)
No, my eyes are on my face, I can't see in my mouth.
Right, she said, If you think I'm joking then I'm going to kick you out.
So she kicked me out the flat and that was that she said.
Not quite...
I grabbed my stash of Haribo from underneath the bed.
I told her all the things about her that I really hated
And the moral is:
Relationships with things that you can't eat are over-rated.
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 2:52 PM UTC
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Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
Do you really
Blowing smoke into my face
In my pocket a razor blade
I run my finger against it
Pick anything
Anything you want
Cough Syrup
Cigarettes
Liquor
As if you weren't white trash enough
Walk in
You are calm and no one cares
Pick anything
Anything and walk out
You own it
Some lie to themselves
Pseudophilisophical teenage masturbations
As if shoving a couple cold beers into your boxer shorts
And downing a bottle of robo in the toy section of wal-mart
*yeah bro, youv'e totally thrown a wrench into the gears of the corporate machine while we drink these cold cans of beer that were pressed against your *****
Marijuana
I wish I was alive for once
Then I wouldn't waste my time typing poems on my cellphone
While you finger your girlfriend on the couch
Sleeping on the floor is great for a while
You appreciate a safe place to sleep
Something different than the bus seats and train stations
I wish the universe didn't
Whose idea was this whole life thing anyway
Tomorrow you will wake up
And stealing DVDs from Best Buy will consume the day
I found a little bag of ****
And we are kings
Of a personnel universe
Your girlfriend
Is
eighteen
She still thinks I'm cool
Cause my General Education Diploma
I hate everything in my life
It's all breaking apart
The seams I have carefully sewn
I need to get out of here
I am tired of January
Appreciate each moment
Appreciate each moment
Because the tumor on my brain waits on nobody
I cant overcome the sense of meaninglessness
It's just the comedown
Xanax
Cigarettes 1:12 a.m
1:13 a.m
Follow my noble eightfold path to oblivion
#1 go **** yourself
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
i'm sick to death of this stinking routine
perpetual day time TV,
petty bickering
afternoon pub binges
hopeless job hunting morons everywhere,
i return to my hometown
to the place i was made, molded
created
and it suffocates me like never before
i think of the many reasons i left
they circle my thoughts for a long while
and then i'm left with one
one that overrides the lot
it takes a while to spit it out
because it's corny, it's stupid, it's not how we work
but
it's love
and the lack of it
the love here is in the mundane
the easy,
the norm.
it's not in the heart
the love around here lies in
television sets
and pirate DVDs
reduced chicken and new coffee machines
gambles on abused horses
saturday afternoons in the local
cheap holidays to Benidorm
a day trip to lidl
a weekday evening watching the soaps
a phonecall to a family member you don't care about
hours playing candy crush
the love has lost on us humans
the love here, it was lost on me too
it missed me out
they missed me out
it has instead transferred in this
reality tv, selfie indulgent zeitgeist
it has left our silly bodies
and i'm still clinging on
trying to dissapear from that
new century bubble
trying to pick up pieces
of that porcelain mosaic
that old style bric a brac
so long ago forgotten
pressure is everywhere
notifications beep
this tiny block of perspex
waiting to be touched
waiting to be in communication
with someone at the other side of the city
the other side of the world
oh what a sad existence
when all we love is through the inanimate
and not ourselves
but hey thats the way of the world
and we have to accept it
or hate it
because we can't do both
we have to accept our fast paced tumultuous society
always moving through space and time
at times, difficult
painful
hard
sore
but consumerism, capitalism and cronyism
it all exists in this big society
this 'we're all in it together' society
and it cant be ignored.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
This morning a great big pile of ******* occupies the road in front of your building,
Powdered wigs and hand grenades,
The remains of a slaughter the night before.
All the medicine, text books, car keys, credit cards, shoes, head phones, computer chips, DVDs, chairs and trucks.
A smoldering heap of help from friends in factories.
None of it had been spared during the death of civilization.
Still they pile it.
Your neighbors and parents and friends.
They’ve been convinced that these things are evil.
They will force solitude upon all of us.
They will make us vulnerable and frail as though naked in the night.
They will prove to us that we did not know what it was to be alone.
Standing atop the pile their god is yelling:
“We must sacrifice for the good of life!
We must destroy for the good of creation!
We create ignorance for the sake of realization!
We incite suffering for the good of happiness!.”
Left alone we must grovel at the foot of our fallen god,
Mourning a murdered child.
Crying out for fairness and LAW.
Systems and sciences.
All lay at the very center of the mound.
The head of a rotten body,
Decapitated without mercy by those who had been deceived by it.
Death and darkness come next,
Creeping as wolves do where we fear them most.
I can’t tell you what comes next,
But you must not trust those who began the revolution.
They have abandoned you to your own devices.
Left you naked in the shadow of the mound.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
We are the disconnect community.
We think, therefore we are.
We blink, therefor we see the
ticking, flicking florescent FIVE HUNDRED.
A personal "connection-collection" of mine.
500 pieces of redefining human identity as bees in a hive.
Buzzing. Whirring. Chatting.
A world can be displayed on a single screen
of ticking, flicking florescent FIVE HUNDRED.
All tuned in.
*All turning into hive minded creatures.
Degeneration at it's best.
For the most advanced generation,
We are zombies disguised as cyborgs;
carrying our hearts literally out on our sleeves.
For home, I'm told, is where the heart is.
And though books say it's in our chests,
One look and tell you "Homepage" is handheld.
And with the world in the palm of your hand,
the rest comes fast, calm and easy.
Like breathing,
But without feeling.
Invisible networks bond the inner workings
Like an ultra-cranium.
Or a hive, dangling precariously over the valley.
Lives, carelessly unaware that a bow can break
when it forgets it's roots.
Like jumping in puddles in rubber boots.
The difference between what's easy and what's simple.
The little girl on Youtube who can't flip a page of a magaizine because all she know's are HD touch screens.
Learning to type before learning to write.
Obesity, skyrocketing to a sun we barely lay eyes on.
One by one, we stop hooking up, and get hooked up to the trending crazes.
Hang up. Telenophobics praised.
E-mail and texts.
Social skills wrecked.
Eye contact replaced with descontent looks.
Pirating crooks
Torenting video games, DVDs &books.;
The 25th of December is more for toys than the son of God.
You can't remember the last time you went fishing with your dad, because you've been too busy playing C.O.D.
Unplugged is savagery.
but escapism with a drug by any name is just as inhumane.
Just as fatal.
For all the blinking,
and thinking,
chattering,
babbling
500 redefined "friends",
Can you easily feel alive when it's more simple to call us dead?
Do you know all your neighbors names without checking online?
Can you understand relationships, as they were meant to be?*
We are the disconnect community.
Cut out "unity".
Leave the rest for our virtual home page address.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
I’ve wasted all my money on ****
again.
I don’t even like it, the stench, the habit, the headaches,
the fake smiles, declarations of “I’m so high”, I’m done.
I’m done splattering my guts in the morning
displaying my vulnerabilities to the world,
the world of 275 girls. I just can’t seem to find
the acceptance I want,
but don’t deserve. what I need is a pill to forget
who I am and what I’ve done, because I haven’t done enough.
**** kids my age travel to Tajikistan, hack government websites,
cure complex diseases in their sleep.
I just lay on my futon, plop dvds into my Mac,
and waste my life away.
another day wasted, staring into a screen. which reminds me
I also waste too much money on dvds,
while my Netflix account remains untouched.
could I be anymore of an abomination,
with my tattooed skin, and pierced face,
cutting the crusts off of my bread. as mementos of my past
seep into my mind, I wonder
when I’ll see the starting line,
or if it’s already left me behind.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
Lisa Nelle
had two names
like a pornstar.
She'd put her makeup on and stick all this blackness on
under her eyes
like she was holding night
in bags.
We watched Hey Arnold! DVDs at five in the morning,
and smoked the whole place up.
Sometimes her and Alexis would go in the back room.
Alexis never liked me.
Lisa Nelle had this way of looking at you
where she'd take her eyes
and she'd work her way
down to your stomach.
She could find a star in my intestines,
a dwarf light could warble in my stomach
and she'd see it through my belly button.
She'd pull it out
wings and all
and tell me
that Khalil knew the answers.
Out of this two-ton purse she carried around,
she'd whip out a compilation of Khalil Gibran.
One time she told me how her father
used to pull her hair
and thighs.
She didn't say anything about it again.
When we tripped shrooms,
she took my hands and put them on her neck
and asked me to feel for the nebulas
underneath her skin.
When I read
some of the stuff you send me,
the emails,
texts
or poems,
I can't help but wonder how many words
I now know as a result of you
that I wouldn't know
if I hadn't been looking
around for bud
and someone I knew
that
knew you.
I'm sorry Lisa Nelle,
that things didn't work out with you and Alexis
when they did
with you
and
Sabrosa.
Sometimes I hate myself too.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
Starlight shines from limousines
On the streets of Monte Carlo
But I'd prefer a cup of tea
In a caff with Gary Barlow.
He'd draw inspiration from
The drabness of the venue
And weave sweet melodies around
The items on the menu.
Spreading sounds of happiness
Around the greasy spoon.
He may be a chub-a-lub
But he sure can write a tune.
I could take him back to mine
To feast on milk and cookies.
Watching pirate DVDs
In my flat above the bookies.
I would part the curtains
So the jealous neighbourhood
Saw me ****** rewarding
The blond scribe of 'Back for Good'.
He could climb atop me
Like he mounted Kilimanjaro
Everything changes forever
Once you've tasted Gary Barlow.
Down to earth despite his millions
Cuddlier than Robbie Williams.
Looking pensive in a vest,
Gary Barlow is the best.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC
Bring all your
Used cds, dvds, & games &
Let's trade. Here's the place to sell all your cds, dvds, & games.
Let's help you find the
Music, movies, or games that you want.
Only at Bull Moose is where you can find great deals
On any cds, dvds, games, & even records.
So come on in, where
Everyone will welcome you & help you find what you need.
Bull Moose; where music is our business!
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 4:45 PM UTC
The artist only used black,
he wouldn't say why his mum named him after a King
in palaces where feral children investigate
the mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle from their sofa where
they translated “idiot savant” as
stupid servant was written on permanent files
somewhere hidden alongside
DVDs that were posted on line showing monkeys in boxes
throwing themselves to death against perspex walls
splattering Rorschach patterns of childish nightmares,
the boogeyman.
A butterfly.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 11:54 AM UTC
I was sitting in the middle of crooked roads
and singing to the passersby about us
and our love
a lie
the bridges were slowly thinning in to
nothing
but old DVDs we used to watch when our minds were marinated with
empty vow books
and
your memory was seeping away with every note
dissected
in to atom-sized pieces of photo paper that was
impossible
to mend
I saw the sand particles of hourglasses run out
and almost forgot you
but then
whispers of your voice reverberated
swinging recorded words like tongue twisters
I covered my ears before your wavelengths could clash with
mine
and we would be
whole
once again
We are out of time.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
You say you've got it all figured out,
got the science down at age nine-teen.
I roll my eyes, because that's just silly.
I'm older than you by a year at least,
but regardless, I watch you hitch your
skirt up and strap your heels on before
leaving the house. You think I'm crazy
to stay around only to meander about
in my fuzzy socks and stained sweatshirt.
I'll have you know that I actually quite
enjoy my one-women tea parties with
Ms. Austin and the Bronte girls on a
Friday night. At least I won't get a head
ache from strobe-lights and my utter
confusion when it comes to pretty-looking
cocktails. I realize I probably won't be
seeing you until midmorning anyway
when you stumble rather impressively
into the kitchens still in your club clothes.
You'll make a disgusted noise at my
pillow fort, my coloring books, my
towering stack of certifiable Disney
DVDS and I will pretend not to notice
that you smell like stale sweat, alcohol,
and aftershave.
You will feel compelled to tell me all
about him, all about them, all about all
of last night--down to the last disturbing
detail--and I will burry my face in my cereal
so you can't see the faces I'm making.
Undoubtedly you are bragging
(or so you think), but really, I'd rather
not have had so-and-so pawing at me
all night, because neither you nor I
know where he's been, and I personally
find no appeal in waking up in someone
else's unfamiliar room because my comforter
is super soft and fluffy and I feel like a
princess when I go to bed all clean
and cute in my PJs. This way I can get up
whenever I want and take a shower and
be loud and not have to put the seat up
when I *** or quietly try and find my way
out of someone else's home.
Also, I'm lazy most of the time so
I definitely wouldn't like the walk
home so early in the day. I have to say
that I much prefer my crayons to your
aspirin, my forts to your mysterious
bathrooms, my imaginary sword fights
to your hike home. Most importantly,
I like waking up regretting nothing the
previous the night except that I didn't
get to watch all of Mulan and what her
reflection really shows.
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
all eyes,
all on me,
all eyes,
hanging
all over me.
milk the silence.
fingertips trace the
splintered podium.
clear my throat,
once,
twice.
"We shoulduh' seen this coming."
great opener.
**"Our end was scored
by symphonies of sitcoms,
reality television, coffeehouse blenders,
and fanatical braking.
Our pride in resilience was the
spark that lit the powder keg.
Foreigners couldn't stop us,
for we stopped letting 'em in years ago.
Time couldn't stop us,
for our bodies are made of plastic,
and words don't dent us,
for our emotions are backed by
the most stubborn of metals.
We broke love when we were still young.
All us boys were aiming for quick fixes,
and all you girls were aiming for margarita mixes.
Ladies decided they wanted to nest around the
smoking age,
and if they were attractive enough,
us boys bit.
We all got divorced.
We all got into politics.
Some of us died for a country,
but none of us are sure why.
Some of us ran from debt,
some recorded folk songs on laptops,
some sexed their way out,
some drank themselves to death.
We shoulduh' seen this coming.
But we didn't, so that makes you and I, the idiots.
The smart ones had foresight,
and departed us early.
Now we idiots look to the murderous sky,
and wait."**
all eyes,
all on me,
all eyes,
hanging
all over me.
milk the silence.
i raise my arms up,
as though the crowd is crucifying me.
they want to finish their burgers.
they want to stroke each other's egos.
they want to pass the blame on some
distant land,
and stick boots up ***** and wave a few flags.
**"So civilization doesn't get to rust,
it goes out in a flash and is carried away as dust.
Mankind annihilates itself in a fit of boredom.
Get stoked for the funeral pyre."**
all eyes,
all on the ground.
all skin,
all plastic skin did melt.
all forgotten dreams,
all torn from hidden seams.
all the thin, the fat, the republican, the democrat,
all the white, the black, the chinese,
the arabs, the jews, the druggies,
the christians, the monkeys, mtv stars,
toilet seats, pamphlets,
all the newsreels, dvds,
collector's editions, suvs,
all fuse together,
all in one immaculate heat.
no one even got a chance to applaud.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 9:57 PM UTC
Wake up, stare out your jagged window at the yellow-green, creeping mist that pours through the suburbs. Taste darkness inside a spit shined, stream lined dank tank that your roommates call home. Shower and be appalled at just how unshapely you have gotten, your body a testament to your diet of Wendy’s and alcohol. Go to your dream crush, thankless job and stand at attention as the human flesh wave moves blankly through aisles and registers, even as they pretend that they are not the target market. Watch as they consume ferociously violent DVDs and smart devices at discount prices. Stand startlingly still and pray to God that they are like Tyrannosaurus and can’t see movement. Realize you are a ******* idiot because you get your facts from movies. Feel fear and dread make a shrapnel nest in your stomach when you understand that this might be the best that you can do. Frame count with fellow claustrophobic agoraphobics and call that pointless perfection pursuit escape. Desperately have twisted, quasi-acrobatic *** with every woman that is willing, but not so secretly wish they were that somewhat mousy, yet charming, grad student who makes your coffee every morning. Try to shrink into her pocket, invisible, only an absent touch away. Hope that someday you can intervene in her life positively so she notices you there. Go to sleep and breathe in that yellow-green vapor that reacts with your cells and becomes a clean cancer. Rinse, repeat and pray for that big break.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
Money keeps the world going round
while it straps us down.
money gets us what we want and when
but loses the mother we need
money makes us buy beer and hold hands
but it made Jesus flip ****
money is what we go and earn while
fathers cry because the
money could buy them bread but
not their lovers back.
money can buy lust and ***
and along with that a STD
money is earned but only
burned on sports and dvds
money can be lucky if
money is the only way out
money creates and destroys,
monopolizes and liberates.
money says things the
same way twice even though
money reads in "God We Trust" but
it should declare "trust in you".
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
We watched three DVDs of Elvis
on the Ed Sullivan show,
Just to find you waving in the crowd
for a quarter of a second
It was brief
But to see you so young
And gentle and light
Was worth the hours
Of black & white tv
And jokes that are no longer funny
The first night I met you
You asked me if I was a writer
And I asked how you knew
You said it takes one to know one
I read your poetry for three hours
In Indian style on your living room floor
While you ate crackers from a ziplock bag
And talked about the love of your life
And the way his chest felt
The first time you used it as a pillow
You told me not to cry
When Elijah dumped me
You said pain is everywhere,
I'll miss out on life
If I let it consume me
I turned to leave your room
On a random Sunday last December,
It was cold and wet and dark,
And I was tired,
You grabbed my hand
And stopped me in my tracks
You said "learn to relax"
And then you held me still
Until you saw the anxiety
melt out of my eyes
I asked you why you
Bother to keep the car
Even though you know
You'll never drive it
You asked me why
I bother to love the sick
Even though I know
They're dying
You told me "don't close the blinds,
The world is beautiful"
Last time I came to say goodnight
You kept making plans,
Where you'd go after you left here
Even though "here" was certainly
The last place you'd be
I never understood
Why you kept pretending;
Pretending there was more
I get it now, Peggy
I know
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:38 PM UTC
I buy a shirt, a blue shirt, a button down.
I drink a glass of wine, a red, a Malbec.
And I watch.
I stand still in the midst
of the St. Cloud Market.
The crowd—that singular being—
jostles and jockeys and talks
in broken English.
I chew gum, cinnamon gum, Nicorette.
I feel my habit inverting, bending, becoming mechanical.
And I must flirt and be moral
with the shopkeeper who looks a little
like me.
And I must revert to an irrational, emotional,
childlike state as I buy three pirated DVDs.
The crowd forms a circle instinctually.
Three women dance slowly in the center.
Paper falls from the sky, newsprint, a day old.
Gunfire, the sound of it, its slowing of time.
No one says a thing
and no one's feet make a sound and
every child is perfectly behaved
for one relentless moment.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
Ted packed his trunk with all the junk
he said he didn't need
cars with three wheels and orange peels
and books he didn't read
He threw away his moulding clay
his bucket and his *****
some holey socks and building blocks
and games he never played
One spider fake a rubber snake
A plane with just one wing
Two wind up frogs with broken cogs
A yo-yo with no string
An old remote a bath time boat
a bat without a ball
four marbles chipped three comics ripped
he threw away them all
A piece of chalk a bottle cork
some old unwanted cans
a dinosaur without its roar
and paint stained plastic pans
Some old cds and dvds
too scratched to ever play
a submarine some jumping beans
he threw them all away
Without a sound the lid closed down
and locked the ******* in
then daddy said I'll take that Ted
and put it in the bin
Spring cleaning ends as two good friends
sit down to toasted bread
More room to play I heard him say
as we climbed into bed
The clever bear without a care
closed his one eye and snored
I did the same and dreamed of games
that we had yet in-store
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Watch out for the jackal.
A Joker.
I don't like to play games.
This is serious follow the clues.
The stepping stones line the path.
Through the meadow and the prairie.
Galloping stallions.
Twirling battalions.
Shiny medallions.
A whiny dalmatian.
A quarreling nation.
What is the logic?
Chirping frogs.
Daddy long leg spiders.
That sit down beside her.
A messed up mind.
A senseless theory.
A confusing plot.
Without any thought.
What was I thinking?
If I remember it wouldn't matter?
Really?
Of course not.
Absolutely not.
Giggling girls.
Gossiping & copying.
Stealing each others cosmetics, boyfriends,
money, CDs, DVDs, jet ski's,
Mountain climb.
Scuba dive.
Snorkel.
Hot air ballooning.
Hang gliding.
Bungee jumping.
Parachuting.
Water skiing.
Boogie boarding.
Dune buggy racing.
Ice skating.
Roller coaster.
Merry go round.
Ferris wheel.
A maze of fun.
Build a sandcastle.
Build a Snowman.
Make a snow angel.
Collect seashells.
Or sea glass.
Pearls.
Fly a kite.
1,2,3 go.
Wash, rinse, & repeat.
Step, shuffle, step.
Destiny
Harmony
Star
Karma
Ruby
Aqua
Moon
Rainbow
Trinity
Phebe
Ariel
Glow
Diamonds
Cool water
Vanilla fields
Charm
Dessert
Fantasy
Perfume
Fragrance
Delightful & frightful.
Neat & sweet & discreet.
Charming & disarming.
Meet & greet.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
Do you remember those old VHS tapes?
The predecessor to dvds,
which were the predecessor to blu rays,
and it goes on and on.
Anyways back to the VHS tapes,
I don’t know I’ve always loved them.
I know it’s weird
They were such a hassle
You’d have to stick it in the VCR,
rewind it,
fast forward it,
so on and so forth.
DVD’s are so much easier
Yet I’ve always loved the VHS tapes.
Maybe it’s because they remind me of my childhood.
Or because they contain the finest films to ever grace the silver screen.
Or it might even be because,
no matter how long ago I last watched them,
they ALWAYS pick up right where I left off.
I think that’s beautiful.
The Mary Kate and Ashley and Rugrat VHS tapes,
sitting in my basement haven’t been placed in that VCR for years,
but it’s comforting to know that someday
when I’m feeling nostalgic enough
to watch one of them,
once it enters that VCR,
it will be in the EXACT spot I left it 6 years ago
when I watched it last.
It would be amazing if life were like those VHS tapes.
All the people you haven’t seen in years,
are just waiting there for you to arrive again,
just to pick up right where you left off.
No need to rewind or fast forward.
It’s not quite that easy though.
There are people in this life,
that I know are just like those tapes.
I may not have seen them for months,
but once I do it’s a straight shot back to where we were.
Then there are people like DVDs who don’t wait,
they don’t stay just where you want them to,
they keep moving and moving,
until one day you’re not sure where they’ve gone.
So you have no other choice then to restart,
and find someone new.
I know that there are people in this life,
just like the people in the films
on those VHS tapes.
There are people in this life that see the loveliness of it all
They understand the beautiful gift they’ve been given each day
They know that people are sacred,
living,
breathing,
feeling,
beings.
And then there are people like me,
who look at life with confusion,
and concern,
and wonder everyday,
what the hell is going on.
Who know that life isn’t like that VHS tape,
but wish more than anything that it was
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
Today I thought about you
As I did yesterday and the day before that
How your skin is like velvet
Hair like burnt caramel
Boy with a kiss like a hand grenade
Boy with a touch like a paper cut
Boy with a voice like a church choir
Boy I fell in love with in 2 weeks
At the age of 14 it was easy to love you
I loved every piece of you
Treated you as if you were the last molecule of oxygen inside of a gas chamber
My love for you was so sweet some would call it cliche
Cupid didn't have an arrow large enough to fit this love
You were the first boy to make my palms wet just by walking into the room
Until I took it too far
Finding myself on a bedroom floor
He loves me... He loves me not
I let you have the remote control to my smile
I realized I was never letting myself cry as much as I needed to
You were the boy who I would spend all day getting ready for
Loving you was the last thing I thought I was good at
Until I started replaying these memories like scatched up DVDs
Broken, glitching flashbacks
Your name engraved in my heart and mind
Your voice being the anthem of my soul
Your smile being my favorite picture
You being my favorite tragedy
Today I thought of you
As I will tomorrow and the day after that
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
Hello, the girl who lives
at the east side of the island
I hope when you read this,
you have a smile plastered
on your face
Hello, the girl who wears
glasses and has ponytail hair
I hope when you read this,
your boyfriend calls you cute
over and over again that your
heart flies to the sky
Hello, the girl who draws
and collects DVDs
I hope when you read this,
your friends stick by your side
and never leave you behind
Hello, the girl who creates
lines on her arms,
I hope when you read this,
you know that I love you
and I'm glad to have you
in my life.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 7:59 AM UTC
Minds are like DVDs,
Menus .on replay.
They’re supposed to show the happy parts,
But mine just ruin the day.
Mine’s replay scenes of dread,
Of the ones I loathe and hate.
It replays scenes of pain,
The pain I helped create.
Watch me today
As my mind is torturing me,
With scenes of lust and lacking faith
Making me wish I could run away
I wish I could turn of the TV,
Replace the DVD
So I can be rid of this torment,
And these blackening scenes
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 10:47 AM UTC