"flunk" poems
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
12.1k
Hey young man, wanna join a frat?
Cool wife beater and a backwards hat?
Come with us, be one of the "bros"
And help us pull some cute little hos.
All you gotta do is follow our rules
Play along and we'll provide the tools.
To be one of the coolest kids here.
Just take a shot and slam a beer.
******* come your way as soon as you join.
All over you like you got loads of coin.
Scoring ******* left and right.
Getting ***** every night.
Frat boy Brad must have forgot since he was drunk.
With this kind of attitude, you'll surely flunk.
But if you don't care about your future, stand up and say:
"I compromised my morals, but it's O.K.!"
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 3:08 PM UTC
Before moon comes out to show
Lack of progress I think I'll get drunk
Could make better decisions
Life is easier to flunk
I look down, hide my shamefIul eyes
Heart lays in the dirt
Wrung out, tossed aside like trash
Can I run from this hurt?
I placed expectations high
In the wrong box, the wrong shelf
Cannot disentangle, stuck to my mistakes
Try but fail to fix myself
**** it, I am gonna get high
Life too short to live sober, full of sorrow
Rather die tonight with smoke in happy lungs
Than survive an endless number of substance free tomorrows
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
My red wagon, in my youth,
Kept things some thought quite uncouth,
Like fishing line, crawdad bait,
A model boat, old door plate,
Copper rupees from Nepal,
Ancient skull, an old softball,
And I still wish I had them all,
Those fine treasures of my youth.
Though years have past since that day,
I, again, still lug that dray,
But I often can recall,
All the stuff I used to haul.
Though no longer filled with junk;
I don't use it like a trunk.
This lesson I didn't flunk.
It's filled with my kids at play.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
when i was little,
i used to read those books,
you know,
by shel silverstein?
where the sidewalk ends,
and
a light in the attic?
there was a poem in one,
and it went like this:
"Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow taller?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!"
and that poem sticks in my head,
a lot.
because,
really,
"whatif's" control my every thought.
my "whatif's" keep me,
all in check,
when they breathe their "whatif's",
on my neck.
they keep me waiting,
watching,
and wary,
"whatif" life, wasn't so scary?
"whatif" i could live,
and not be so afraid,
"whatif" i was sure,
of the choices i've made?
i guess i'll find out soon,
but "whatif" i don't.
to be honest i'm scared,
that maybe i won't.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
timing is probably the most important thing
in the entire universe
when you really think about it -
it's like when a certain record comes out
and it defines that entire era
of your life
like the summer of 2001 when I was nine,
in the car with my dad on a hot summer day
and he stumbled upon "I'm Like A Bird" on one of the stations,
and we turned it up, rolled the windows down,
and we knew that that song would always be
ours.
and it's truly just so crucial to our existence,
the timing of things -
like when I met this beautiful person on the internet
who soon after became my best friend
and turned my whole life around. but the timing of it
was perfect and had i not met her right on that day of that month
of that year, i probably would not be remotely close
to who i am today.
and I already know that this summer is going to be associated
with Daft Punk's 'Random Access Memories', with "Get Lucky" blaring loud
on every stereo in the city,
it will remind me of Eisley's album, "Currents", and the song "On My Balcony"
by the band, Flunk.
Six months from now when I look back on the summer of 2013,
I will think of those songs and those records,
I will think of how hard I was trying to stay afloat and become
a better person, for nobody but myself,
and how good of a job I was doing with the action
of letting go of things that were toxic for me.
I will think of blonde hair and dancing in the rain, hot sweaty shifts
running around a crowded restaurant, being sad about how much time
I still have left until I get to see my favourite person again, and I will think of
boredom and sunburns and bad poems and love and hope and willingness
to overcome fear. And music. So much music.
This isn't really a poem but more of a very lengthy acknowledgment
regarding the importance of timing, especially perfect timing,
and how even bad timing is usually disguised as
perfect timing in the end.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
“The nerdish image”
They say I am a nerd, they say I am a geek,
I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t bother but I am done being meek…
I am sure that the nerds do not really bunk,
And in case they do, they most definitely don’t flunk.
I am wearing large specs,I am holding a fat book,
But it still doesn’t call for you to throw that look,
Don’t be judgmental, please don’t assume,
To me it’s so unfair, every time you presume.
I might look bookish, I can’t cat-walk,
I am reserved, I am shy, I do not really talk,
I am no fashionista, but my deepest concerns aren’t books,
brands, clothes, shoes, yes, I care about my looks,
okay,Call me a nerd, call me a geek,
I do not really care, won’t complain, won’t speak,
But behind my back, everything that you talk,
It still hurts sometimes, coz it sounds like a mock,
Good marks, good grades, oh! I want them always,
But they aren’t always mine, if you haven’t noticed, just in case,
“Calling me a nerd isn’t the real concern,
It’s the fact that I am not, and I wish I had been one.”
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
I'm drunk,
and in a flunk.
I know speaking while inebriated may not be the best idea,
as well as tending to those with gonorrhea .
Sorry it just fit the rhyming scheme,
had not intent to demean .
But sentences seem to flow so clearly,
while under the influence of whiskey.
So I wonder if it really is something I should refrain from.
or an old wives told by doctors to seem fearsome.
Though to think like that your doomed for an early grave.
Liver failure is no grateful save.
So I suppose it's time I give up the delightful sin
before liver failure starts to win.
So farewell jaundice,
despite our fondness.
I'm giving up this clarity
for a new outlook and some moral prosperity.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 4:20 AM UTC
Question: What do you do if your car crashes?
Answer: Don't crash your car.
I drove myself home from the hospital the morning after I drove myself insane.
A note in my hand listing ways the doctors could direct to get me home safe from my own self.
Come to a full stop at sharp edges,
Steer away from liquids you can drown in,
Put in your caution lights so people just drive around you,
Take your medicine,
Don't drive alone,
No not that medicine
Here's a phone number in case you have something worth saying,
Bus to class,
Unless that's too hard.
Flunk out
Call your mother.
Don't tell her everything.
And it becomes a challenge just to say I'm not okay.
Because after a disaster like mine,
No one wants to hear you haven't healed yet.
And I can't count the number of times I've been offered a vaccine instead of a remedy,
and scoffed at when the cast comes off and I'm still a little too broken.
As if I haven't healed fast enough.
Don't tell me I'm being overdramatic,
Don't tell me I chose the broken glass,
the bending steal.
That it was all avoidable had I just not blinked,
Had I just slowed down and stopped to think
Had I just snapped out of it.
I wouldn't have crashed.
Question: Have you ever gone driving in the rain?
In the snow?
Cause then you might know how it feels to lose just a little bit of control.
And the next moment find yourself in the bottom of a ditch,
waiting once again for someone to pull you from the wreckage
Because you can't save yourself.
I wanna save myself.
And I don't need to know how the engine works.
Just teach me to read the warning signs when I'm heading south and there's no way for me to turn around.
Let me know that when I start to let go, there are safety nets 'cause sometimes my mind is more of a balancing act, the bridge accident than a joy ride
So give me air bags,
give me seat belts,
Give me a crash test dummy.
If I cut the brake lines, show me how to coast to a stop.
Because people cannot live in a plastic bubble, rolling around at 5 mph for the rest of our lives,
repeating caution signs:
Don't blink,
Don't breath,
Don't move,
Don't freeze,
Don't drive,
Don't park,
Don't live.
Don't tell me don't tell me don't tell me
this is defensive living
Sometimes veering off the road, eyes shut tight on a straightaway covered in obstacles bigger than ourselves is the best we can do to survive.
Question: What do you do if your car crashes?
Answer: Just crash your car.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
and here we go again something completely new
dont interest me i want to copy my old wings
self never recognized the different reasoning
so take my paragraph like you take war police
banging down your door at the alarm of a total
Nobody. gonna shut down this claim that is truly
interesting. but only because the gods got torment
in their left hand and its aimed at the war police
bang bang ************* do or die trying
dont release me till ive gotten noticably interesting
just kidding want that zombie glare of your adderol adding up for one romantic flunk
of an i love you too soon on the release a loaded
handgun adding up for the hanged cliff of a
no i didnt notice that you even had one
**** darling youre a little too marooned for good
i may be an island but ive got too little much time
for a skip and walk away from a main land
so if one siren does end up staying on the rocks
long enough to scare me into so/so sobriety
ill always have a place to be when i get abandoned
but its just another excuse for me to stay dry away warm till rescue in this imaginary existence
cruise line lexus like admiral for excusing favors
aint asking for the roseary im asking for the papers
legally im entitled to two doses of riddlin **** you
dont believe me ******* here this is my perscrption
my dad prints them tenfoldin his crowded sub basement but i really need them to keep a day job
ancient time frame of a snitch who didnt know it
root cellar lack of oxygen braincells didnt grow in
see there lets blame it on the unintelligence then
connect that to the fact that hes a convicted felon
ohhh touche and a top hat to you stay straight
snitches only seperate themselves from shittalkers
when they dont know a god walking among them
other wise they can stay down talk **** for days
bang bang another door down from the war police
you didnt know your neighbors were the sameside
as you how do you expect the numbers to blind the truth. ba ba ba ba ba duh ba ba ba ba duh
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
“The less a man makes declarative statements,
The less apt he is to look foolish in retrospect.”
This was said by someone’s elderly relation
He uttered the words as though they were his own creation.
Turned his tongue with a playful phrase
In hopes it would eleviate his grandson's new phase
The words quickly sunk
Lifting the boy from his flunk.
The child left his life to resume
As he began to pen a script called “Four Rooms”
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
I was scared
We we're talking about
What-if's
And those
Can be pretty scary
My mind
It fluttered
And the image
Later emerged
*The test came out positive
We were gonna be parents
But we're too young
My body aches
From the baby
And the fear
I can't tell
I cannot
Successfully
Finish school
Go to college
Raise this little baby
Cannot afford it neither
If you stay
You'll flunk
Find some ****** job
We'll be in a rough spot
And it won't change
The only
Good thing
Is we might be able
To marry sooner
But your mom will
Kick you out
My mom
Call me *****
But come to accept it
I know she'll cry herself
To sleep so many nights
So will I
But before I tell
I'd cut
My arms
So ruined
****** and scarred
My mom will bring me
Back to the hospital
And she'll ask
Why
Why did I do this
And I whisper
I'm pregnant
And I'll watch
As she realizes
How much
I just ****** up my life
Things get better
I guess
I'm behind in school
You got your GED
I come home each day
And watch our child
Knowing
I won't see you until
After work
We'll save up
And leave
Start our life
But it won't be easy
I don't know if we'll survive
But I know I need you
Who else would hold me
When I cry
Or when I break
Who else would stay up
To help with our kid
Our life was influenced
By passion
And I know
You'll tell me
It was Gods plan
His gift to us
But I'll just whisper
Haven't we had enough?
Haven't we endured enough hardships?
I already knew
We were meant to be
He didn't need to do this too
Nonetheless we go on
Lower class
But getting by
We're always in love
But sometimes I think
It's only because our child
We make it through
Because life
Knew
We were strong enough
For even this
No matter how scary it was.*
What-ifs are scary
I just hope they
Don't come true.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
Homeless in paradise, it's never that clean
Home free, since I was a middle-aged teen
Purple haze trees, as my life's infrastructure
Smelling the scent, of my bohemian subculture
Playing along the boardwalks of Venice Beach
Passersby, all the time just begging to screech
Their rude undertones, as they sip on their latte
Surely, I was a given, for a dope smokin' runaway
I must admit, I am a drunk
I will admit, I did love punk
I won't admit, I'm not a hot *****
Have to admit, at skool I did flunk
I'll **** it up, to make a quick buck
But, will you admit, you're a flaming schmuck?
Living in paradise, was forever my scene
Hassle-free start to my touring routine
Purple haze shades, my life now has structure
You see the success, of my worldwide pop culture
Gracing stages of past fame, always to a beat
Fanatical fans always be wanting to meet
Sifting my bin, for stuff I've worn, this be stalking
I'm the greatest musical queen, I've heard them talking
I must admit, I am a drunk
I will admit, I did love punk
I won't admit, I'm not a hot *****
Have to admit, at skool I did flunk
I'll **** it up, to make a quick buck
But, will you admit, you're a flaming schmuck?
Hurting in paradise, for wherever I'm seen
Hitting trees, I ditched my last limousine
Injecting purple haze into my veins, now I’ve suffered
On Youtube, my once famous sculpture is buffered
Fooling around, the ***** strips, never that discreet
With my purple haze shades, I was fast on my feet
Families, not mourning, nor crying, putting me 6 feet under
Atlantic contracts, royalties accrued, now easy to plunder
In departing my last scene, I'd become fatally unstuck
Because of how I'd been living, as a dim-witted, schmuck.
Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 8:42 PM UTC
It’s your family, little sister, family.
You remember us, don’t you?
We’re your Christmas cards and your cream filling.
We’re your cheering squad and your taste testers—
Think of the barbies, the bears, the bruises that we shared, little sister
How about all the times I carried you home?
Is it coming back to you, little sister?
think hard.
oh.
I’m so sorry, little sister.
We’re trying.
But we can’t see you through all the fog and the fail and the ******* right now—
(the flunk-outs and the tweekers—
they’re ******* parasites, you know that…?)
but we’ll keep looking.
I feel like we’re always looking,
searching, seizing, hunting, hollering,
calling—MIJITA…?!
sorry, little sister, I thought that was you at the door.
Little sister, it wouldn’t be so hard to come home,
I pinky promise.
I made your bed for you, I really did.
and as soon as you come back I’ll French braid your hair, just how you like it.
Mom washed your slippers and got you a dozen new dresses.
And Daddy bought you chocolate turtles—your favorite!
That oughtta do it.
Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of turtles
waiting for you when you come home
the almond kind—not peanut—just how you like them!
All for you, little sister.
All for you.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC
so listening to Sondheim talking
art, composition and
inspiration,
he says something that so astounds me, my core shaken.
hundreds of songs composed,
but only one,
only one!
autobiographical.
ashamed. I am ashamed.
99% of what is scribble-scribe, about myself,
so I flunk my very own poem exam.
worse, I knew it true
but would not say it lest,
my shame public pronounced,
till now.
his target market was the theater-goer,
the public, you.
mine, myself.
you invited into voyeur~voyage,
to peer into me
peering into me
but I have an oath modest taken,
from know-now on,
I will write
About You,
For you,
Less-on me,
Lessons of us....
Jan. 25th 2014.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
when the world ends, what will people do?
people would loot,
people will pray,
people would try to find a way.
yet when that final hour has past,
how long will we last?
one day, a human will end up dying,
while somewhere else a baby will be crying.
many people look towards the bad things of dying,
but saying that its only bad would be lying.
when that final hour on your life pasts how would you spend it?
how would you live it?
if the world ever ends, a man would hold his wife,
a broken family of strangers would reunite.
bitter rivals would become friends,
and a boy who loves a girl in secret would confess.
the sad thing about life is that we don't realize how good it is until finally its ending
and they wish for a happy ending.
people who oppose religion would become religious,
a student who flunk all the time would mysteriously become a genius
a man who is very mean to everyone would be nice to everyone,
and a woman who hates children would want one.
the end does strange things to people, changing their beliefs,
much to some peoples reliefs.
the end actually is the best cure for all the troubles in the world,
that could be easily seen, for every boy and girl.
enemies would become friends,
a man who hates his wife would want to be their till the end.
a boy would get the courage to confess to a girl or stand up against her father,
a girl who wants to be free will realize she wants to become a mother.
the end is something we all need,
to reunite important things, like love, friends and, most of all, family.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
Salt the slug, fault the plug
For not stopping the gap
Where fears fall through;
caused by sipping the sap
Which beers, tall, brew.
Swish the malt, wish tumult
Of hot dripping bees wax
would clog green ears.
Locks for puzzling keys wracks
and bogs clean gears.
**** machine, spill unseen
From eyes wishing to bleed
out drunk sound blurs.
Fear flies hissing their creed
to flunk round sirs.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC
I look at your face and it never shows you’re down
A smile spread around that’s taped over the frown
Concealer under your eyes to hide the long nights
Hearing your mom fight has your big headphones on tight
But pop melodies can’t drown out all the loud screams
Dishes left unclean, parents as scared as the teen
Food rots in the fridge, “Keep Out” sign hangs from the door
Damp tissues ignored, scattered across the floor
Try to make her laugh, but my jokes aren’t funny
Shows love through money, dries up the nose when runny
But the low hats and dark shades only cloaked her eyes
Wouldn’t notice my, mouth curved in when I’ve spoken lies
I bet you did see both my pupils wedged with glass
In sports getting last, cuz I was too effing smacked
Our lamps burnt out, the light in the house faded
In school berated, little girl how did you make it?
You saved the castle when I couldn’t be controlled
You took on new roles, cried for me to be consoled
Writing gave me back my voice when I became mute
My leaves wouldn’t shoot if you didn’t water the roots
You, you are my blood, without blood my heart won’t pump
When considered a flunk, blood made my heartbeat jump
Really didn’t mean for my lack of energy
To make enemies, but what’s done is now memory
What happened to me, to us, was unexpected
When it got hectic, everyone was affected
But my family, and Vicky especially you
Kept stable and true and that is how we got through
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC
Have you ever gone berserk
while still at work?
You're in a rush
To touch up and brush.
You want me that much?
You have a crush.
Don't have a fuss.
Or I will start to cuss.
You want to **** my body?
Get perverted and naughty?
Get turned on?
Have some fun?
Nestle and run.
Have a party and get some?
Do you really think I'm that dumb?
You don't need me to make you come.
My type is not a broke *ss ***
Get out of here.
Take your ***
You will never hit my drum.
You think if I let you touch my breast,
that you can have the rest?
You want to thank me?
How do you rank me?
You like to spank me.
How much would your bank be?
Don't call me.
If you go to school drunk.
You will flunk.
You don't feel alive
When you're deprived.
You deceive and con.
You can try to make me cry.
Just drop dead and die.
You miserable f***
Drop cover and duck.
I hope you get stuck under the rubble.
And it makes your problems double.
I don't eat dairy.
You popped cherries.
You **** virgins.
Cause stress and burdens.
Strawberry.
do you sell condoms?
That question is the wrong one.
Colin Farrell
where's expensive apparel.
Offensive eyes.
An insulted glare.
That went nowhere.
That's not fair.
I didn't know who he was at the time
he wasn't that famous
only four years
probably only shared a few beers,
with other celebrities.
Had a few magazine covers.
Done a few movies.
Not having cable or going to the theaters
didn't help.
Nice to meet you.
Sorry I didn't know you.
Don't ask twice.
I wasn't that nice.
I'm yours for any price.
Malibu or Ireland?
Where will we spend time and money?
I wish it was you I could kiss.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
"Days without you are torturing, nights without you are grievous.
I look for the comfort that I used to find in your lap. Where will I get you mumma? Where?", a scream lashed in despair echoed.
"I'll be the gallop to **** the dormant twilight,
I'll be the golden rays to snog your sleepy eyes,
I'll be the stretch of vitality,
I'll be the aroma of your morning coffee,
I'll be the shower of sprightliness to drench you with new zeal,
I'll be the savour of your breakfast and joy of a full square meal,
I'll be your steps towards glory,
I'll be the sigh after your every failed story,
I'll be the hop of excitement,
Acquainting a flunk, I'll be the screech of your lament,
I'll be the bliss you find seeing the sun going down,
I'll be in the sloth dispelling plangent words of azan,
I'll be the spectator of your big bright smile,
I'll be the witness to the every tear you wipe,
Never in your life you're alone,
Be it your hearty gale or saddening mourn,
Walking by you like your shadow,
Even beyond the eternity I'll follow", whispered her mother. :')
-Aparajita Tripathi
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 8:09 AM UTC
Number and letters fly about in front of her.
They say something in English,
She knows that much.
But they fly too fast,
Whispering to each other some
Inside joke she'll never be let in on.
They mock her, taunt her
Just like the voices in her head.
Maybe she is crazy,
More likely than not she is.
Voices, voices, voices!
Repeating to her her flaws,
External and in.
And the last remaining strip of sanity inside tells her the voices
Are exaggerating.
That she's good enough, she gets it,
She smart amazing beautiful.
Everything she tells others she knows she is.
But that's a lie too.
The gossiping numbers switch and alternate. Adjust and churn and burn her eyes. Burn her mind.
Or maybe those are just the tears threating to spill.
And if the teacher not two feet away notices she's crying,
He says nothing.
Idle, useless batter all used up.
Her fingers twitch,
Both the ones around the plastic pencil she has jabbed into the numbers.
And the ones on her bag.
She yearns to feel the cool weight of her special pen, to drown in words.
Her earphones, to drown in melodies.
Her blades, to just drown.
But she's in public, so she must be strong.
Be the fierce, happy, intelligent young "lady"
She was taught she must be.
Indecency is a sin.
And somewhere along the way she loses herself.
Manages to hold out until she's in the car, hot summer sun buring her skin.
Sweat forms on her upper lip, mixing with salty tears.
She can't tell which is which.
She lets go in front of her mother, spills as much of her strength as she has left.
But what else should she expect.
"You have a problem. You're going to fail and flunk school," comes the rickety voice.
'You're a failure. A problem. Fail. Fail. Fail. That's all you're good for. Say your final goodbyes and leave. Forever.
We won't miss you,' the voices say.
She thinks she should do just that. Just bleed and leave while tears stain the floor.
But the voices, contradictory, say,
'Attention ***** That's all. That's all,'
So she'll do what she has always done best. The only thing she's good at: act.
Not on a stage; not in front of an audience.
Just a little one woman show ran by her heart and her voices. Alone, she will say the final line.
Take her final bow.
And there is no curtain call.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
night goes on
goes on
and wh oare we
to say what is what
not us
we aren't
much of anyhitng
but a bit of spunchen
right that
just waiting for the night
to go on
and on
into oblivion
like ****
the night goes on
and on
and then
we realize our lives
and we say
that's what's up
because we can't say much else
except to wamp
and belive in tomorrow
because what else
provides such hope
as finding a new day every day
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
I just want to disappear,
Take me somewhere far from here,
Show you all my side of fear,
In fact go grab me some ******* beer,
Time to forget about my pain,
Forget my troubles , pickle my brain.
Travel somewhere on a train,
Beat an old man with his cane,
I'm just kidding about the violence,
Couldn't stand the loud *** silence,
Now I'm not pointing the blame ,
I don't need help carrying this shame ,
Back to the beginning of this,
Blink my eyes then take a ****
Try to find a girl to kiss ,
Find my self lost in bliss,
O wait, I forgot I'm drunk,
Just another loser flunk,
I just want to disappear ,
Take me some place far from here.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 8:39 PM UTC
I look at you and I think,
what good have i done,
That got us to link?
all the tests i've flunk
you've thrown your tantrums at me
whenever i'd try to dunk
you'd just stop, get up and leave
i love you, i love you
don't ever leave me
it's you and me against the odds
you make me feel free
y.m
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 7:23 AM UTC
I woke up one day. As I washed my face,
remembered that there's a quiz today.
Thought I would flunk, but got an ace.
Then the rest of the day went okay.
And thought things do soon fall into place.
I woke up next day. I rushed to the place.
To where my girl is. I am terribly late.
Turns out I made it, just a minute waste.
Then the rest of the date went okay.
And thought things do soon fall into place.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC