"followers" poems
Imagine your eyes speaking.
Are you one of those blind followers?
One of those who just let their eyes see good to feel good? Avoiding injustice, poverty, sadness, racism. Imagine what your eyes would tell you.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
I don’t need to know you personally to know that you are actually worth something. You are worth more than you think. Why do you feel the need to believe your own lies? You need to believe that you are worth it and you need to believe that you will get through this, the more you tell yourself that you aren’t worth it, you will start to feel like you’re not worth anything when the truth is you are worth everything. I understand that sometimes, the ones who surround you can make you feel like a worthless piece of **** they can make you feel like nothing. Simply because it always seems like no one cares about you, but I care about you, your family care about you, your followers care about you, your friends care about you. Sure, sometimes their actions seem to prove otherwise, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t care. Why would you let someone down grade you to something that you are not? Why would you let yourself fall for other peoples lies? You see all those people trying to make you feel like crap? Well you are above them and you should know that by now, simply because you do not feel the need to put someone down in order to make yourself feel better. Don’t you ever let an ex of yours, feel like you aren’t worth anything. Why give someone the power to control your life? To control what you do and how you feel? This is your life and you need to live it how you want to. This is your life and you need to realise that you are here for a reason. You don’t need someone to come along, to make you feel like you are worth something. You don’t need someone telling that you are worth it. Because you have always been worth it, whether you choose to believe it or not, is entirely up to you. Don’t let someone shape the way that you live and think. Don’t live in fear of never being good enough. The people around you see something special about you and now, it’s time for you. To see it within yourself. You’re worth it, see it. Believe it. Because its the truth and one day you are going to have to accept that fact.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
0 followers?
Dear New Poet:
Then I'm your man,
your very own
Northern star,
one leg up of a
3 legged stool,
upon which all,
we, enthroned poets,
the world-over,
do rule
the honor you
bequeath me
to be,
a first follower,
your very own
first responder,
it, cannot be
disdained
nor
diminished
this instance,
this birth,
a novice revival,
heart transplant,
makes it
the sweetest blessing
to be the first—
let us be
the quencher
of a desert thirst so long
in the parching,
the throat burning,
by a desert sojourning,
of a now ending
forty times
four hundred years
so come to me!
message me a message,
find me a find,
your poem fine,
so now we vow,
our embrace will
ne’er be broken
give me this
honorific!
let us together
be terrific,
raise our glasses,
with arms entwined
toasting you and
all that mind and
breasted chest of yours,
full bursting from
its future~contains,
of which,
its full release,
brings a fuller life
for us both
I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
and a First Responder,
for all who needs a leg up,
so step upon my heart,
it be but a first step upon a
ladder with no top, no end ensighted
my legs are as old as time, but,
measure me not by the rings and
the metered scales of gray hair aging,
shock of white, a cain mark, wizard-wizened
but
by the muscles
of my deep affection,
the solemnity of this,
my irrevocable promise
this,
the blessing
we both make and earn,
when you write,
and while we wait,
in quiet attendance -
for all of your good works,
your kept promises
Blessed
are You Lord our God,
Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life,
sustained us until now,
***allowing, allying, and
alloying***
the treader of treacherous waters,
reader, writer, swimmer,
to reach, meet, embrace
and greet this day,
this new born poem,
with hallelujahs
whispering and shoutings
together,
as one
in one, of one,
one
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
You ***** need to stop I'm sorry for hurting your feelings I'm not the one that usually disrespects humans faith and love for something that doesn't even exist - I mean that I believe doesn't exist but you can still live you've got your feelings hurt but thousands of us can not longer hold on or have stopped living - 68 percent of us to be precise have met you speakers telling beautiful stories about saving and love but let your eyes meet ours and you'll have a cemetery party with champagne and cake for my people that unfortunatly met you - so called followers of everything that's right too many of us asked for acceptance nobody wants acceptance anymore after you've hurt people over some old book pushing things on us we're not just don't be ignorant it makes your mind look so small for a person with such a big mouth that normally shouts leviticus twenty:thirdteen those are the numbers numbers we already read, heard have screamed while overdosing on pain,blood and touch by you pedophiles that treat us like some dust trust me too many of us know and won't come back so bring them back climb your way to your heaven and ask like the angel you are -father is killing your youth right?
~.V.~
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
His dad,
hearing a beat,
turned the key,
not knowing
she was in there.
But shirt off, his
fourteen year
old, the CEO
just laughed and said:
"Dad, go back to bed."
He had won the game
AGAIN!
And nights spent
building a barrel
of monkeys
that
watched him
chop down wood
on YouTube
finally had
paid off —
It only took
20,000 followers
for her shirt to
come off.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
Tap tap
Scroll scroll
Click click
Hit like
(they'd probably hit like back)
Excuse me how dare you unfollow me
(here, I'm unfollowing you too)
Um, I really do not like your content
(but I don't wanna lose a follower so there you go)
How did this photo get only 40 likes
(deleting it now)
How did she have so many followers
(all of her posts are *******
Wanna have dinner?
(We can spend 2 hours sitting across each other while our hands are glued to our phones.)
Hey, want to meet up?
(So we can post social media stories to make it look like we're having fun.)
Hi, how was your day?
(Oh wait, I'll just check on your feed.)
Hey, how'd everything go with that job interview you had today?
(Right, I'll just look at your FB status.)
Hi, do you ever wanna talk?
(But you know, on the phone, or like, only online?)
Connect to disconnect
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
To the teachers who never really cared and ignored my problems;
To my fellow ***** “misfits”, etc. Who will no doubt receive more abuse upon my passing, as my tormentors will no longer have me to push around;
To those who never cared, never spoke, probably never knew my name;
To the one true friend, whose caring was the only thing that prevented this event from happening sooner;
To the God, if he does exist, who chose to play a cruel, cruel joke on me when he placed me where he did and surrounded me with so many uncaring faces;
What about my teachers? Will they be sorry to see another student become a statistic? Certainly the administration and Principal will mourn, as my death will not reflect well on them as an institution. Well, I apologize for making the statistics for your administration worse. But I don’t expect an apology for the false sympathies of people.
As for my fellow students, those who made a more significant impact on my life, I know better than to expect my tormentors to mourn.
There’s another group I have not yet addressed: those not like me who left me alone. Or should I say ignored me. I appreciate you sparing me any further harassment, but your inaction, your withheld hellos and how are you’s did more hurt than any name calling. Your inaction effectively excluded me from student life, from the human race. You left me isolated and alone, and no words I could say can convey to you the suffering you caused. I could name names, but in doing so, I would do more now for you than you ever did for me in life.
I do not know what awaits me when I get down off this rope. Will there be a void? Or will I come face to face with God? I just don’t care anymore. If you’re anything like your people, I wouldn’t want to know you. You preached to love one another, yet I’ve felt everything except love from Christians. Even if I knew you were different, well, I'd still reject you. You have left your “followers” to treat people like me poorly. You have allowed so many of the people you “love”, including me, to suffer. So you want me to trust you with my life? I don’t want to spend eternity with a careless deity like you, or with the company you keep.
I’m trying to watch TV but I don’t know what I’m watching. It’s so lonely here. I want to sleep but it just won’t come. I’m so tired of hurting and being alone.
I hope that with my death, there'll be a wider awareness for child abuse and the effects it could have on a person. That's the only wish I have right now. A lot of people will be hurt with my passing, disappointed even, or maybe it won't matter. But I'd like to believe, no matter how much of a ****** up person I am, I died for a cause greater and bigger than myself. That's the only consolation that I have right now.
So that’s it. That’s me. Leaving the world to be a better place.
Goodbye - T
© Copyright Tyler Atherton
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
Social media
has ruined my life
my mom says it
was never like this
twenty-five years ago
You never saw
all your friends
hanging out without
you
Or the boy you like
be with someone else
or be caught in a lie
Social media lets lonely
people to act like they
aren’t lonely
and it allows people to
show off their lives
by hurting others
Show off your body
for all the old men
waiting behind a screen
instead of a tree in the park
Show off your friends
to the person you
left behind
Carry on all the
traditions that were
started way back
when they were
your friend
Watch your guy’s new girl
and see her photos with him
and imagine it was you
Social media
posting pictures
leaving comments
counting likes
has ruined more
friendships than
Instagram followers
I’ll ever have
It has ruined my life
And everyone allows it
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
She thinks that she is only silver.
Second place, forever and again.
But this girl ... she is so, so much more.
She is my dear, dearest friend.
Her soul, while brighter than the sun,
is tortured by confusion and things in her past ...
lofty goals that would thwart even the toughest
and a lifestyle going so fast.
Courageous ... and meek.
A warrior ... and a flower ... all at the same time.
Legions of followers, those who look up ... never to see,
the little girl who roams in her mind.
She will get were she is aiming ...
my heart believes in her so.
She is strong, stubborn ... so very brave,
and this child inside her grows.
Now distant, I'll still watch her life
unfold
from this abyss, for reasons that may forever remain
untold.
She is far more valuable than any silver, precious gems ...
yes, even gold.
No object d'art or more costly antiquity ...
has ever,
ever been sold.
I only wish that I could have somehow ...
somehow
made her see ...
that as my friend ... she was so, so much more ...
than merely silver to me.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 7:11 AM UTC
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I feel the scratch
of the itchy cotton gown
on the narrows of my back
as it climbs up and down
Displayed I lye on the medical tables hard cold steel
It seers into the crevices of my bones
I ponder the lone window and wonder if it's real
I listen for the bleep and bloop of medical tones
Nurses walk by in a mechanical grace
poke and **** & tap and touch my face
and then proceed to leave without a trace
with no hint of knowledge of my medical case
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I'm a big girl, I'm a big girl
I begin to chant in a simple rhythm
as small as a ball I begin to curl
I'm abandoned inside this glassy prism
The dead silence creeps inside my brain
I want to scream to fill the deadly gap
but the cold thick air of silence brings pain
I comfort myself and say it will be ok
My breathing begins to quicken
my eyes dart around the room
only comfort is the fear which I am stricken
my sight goes bleary as darkness looms
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Tears sting the corner of my eyes
I want someone to hold my hand
Oh God how I want to cry
but the only thing there is the bleeding arm band
The test begins with the thickness of barium
It slides down my throat and clings to my esophagus
It tastes like chalk and pandemonium
they want me to suffocate I guess
I chug and chug as the pictures are snapped
x-ray upon x-ray of my stomach and my back
Drink more Drink more They tell me to do
Nervously I shake and say, anymore and I will puke on you
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Even more poking and prodding ensues
but of my stomach, ribs and *******
I lay rigid as a board from the pain of each touch
I grow weary of this tiresome rues
The tests are done
and the coast is clear
I am left alone
to dress myself in fear
Dismissed and discharged to walk away
they file my chart with a robotic smile
now for the wait of endless days
I'm lost in my mind's land of emotional exile
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Pins & Needles Pins & Needles
I wait for the results
Is it stomach cancer, an ulcer or both??
In the dark I am kept like followers in cults.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
The only proper way to be a conversationalist is to convince yourself that you’re boring. If you can strip back the hard shell of the ego, and look down on yourself from the eyes of an apathetic God, you will likely (and hopefully) see just how boring you really are. It isn’t a sin to be boring, in fact there are many advantages to honest self-depreciation.
The main advantage, is the way you approach a conversation. “Interesting” people find it difficult to silence the affected score-keeper that dominates their internal dialogue and ruins any chance of an honest and engaged conversation. It is the voice that reminds you to show interest with your body language, and keep a dumb happy gaze laser pointed into their eyes. This dialogue is obsessed with authenticity and genuine conversation, and therefore a natural sociopath.
Luckily, you are the stunning definition of boredom, an extracted dictionary cut-out of un-interesting, and nobody could possibly give a rats-ass what you have to think—least of all the Voice that controls the inner-dialogue. That Voice has packed it up to find a more interesting vessel…maybe the person standing across from you in conversation.
Because you are so boring, and they are the Oxford personification of intellect and fascination, you should pay careful attention to what they say—no time to worry about how they’re perceiving your reaction to whatever it is they’re saying. You are too busy to notice what sort of body language you may or may not be using to validate their half of the conversation. Instead, your time is spent carefully hanging on their every word, digesting it and projecting the whole bit into a colourful scene in your imagination. Instead, you’re too lost in the excitement of their infinitely more interesting life and impossible wealth of knowledge offered to you with each word that they speak. Instead, you are actually listening to the words that come out of their mouth and not the ones that speak to you from the inside of your own mind.
This is what it means to be in conversation. This was the point of our social nature. And in a world of needy social-media junkies grabbing at the cuffs of potential ‘followers’ and ‘likes’ and trendy passer-by’s, the last thing anyone needs is the high-pitched whine of another “interesting” millennial.
Lucky for you, you boring sack of yawning sloths, that you aren’t interesting too.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
I feel such Gratitude when I think of you
I feel so much it overflows
I want you to know how much I appreciate you
You are an inspiration and a muse to me
I have not met many of you face to face , but
No one else can take your place
I hold a special place in my heart for you
You are not just mere followers I consider each and every one of you my friends
We are bonded together as artists of the written word
In case you forgot I will tell you again
You are Awesome
You are special
You are a muse
You touch my heart with your poems, and because of all of you I am forever changed
You are amazing in many ways
I just had to share my gratitude for each and every one of you
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC
Ramadan opens door of mercy each year
reconciling all our hearts on goodness, generosity and forgiveness.
We are all clusters of sins awaiting repentance
holding on to a book bonded with threads of faith
Encrusted with pristine words and reminders from Allah (swt)
When our heads hung low,
And our eyes dripped tears and despair
The pillars of Islam held us back up.
They are the backbone of our lives.
Ramadan leaves us with empty stomachs during the day
But with that our tongues are heavy with thikr
And our hearts are soft from patience.
I pray that we find the right doors to open, and that we remain among the faithful believers.
Ramadan Kareem to my muslim followers x
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
And it is braided with silk, but woven of plastic-
-materialistic; corrugated ridges on burnt iron legs.
But to the streets of suburban deforestation,
Her influential deciphering - infatuated - purged
Of seamless equations and reincarnated followers,
Abides by the diamond-bleach, the sultry circuits,
Poised in the foetal position for the last - yet first -
Time.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
-This is Nigeria,
Where Cattle’s fly their terrorism flag,
Stumping on humtydumpty green white green.
-This is Nigeria
Where corrupt QWERTY and busy ******
Puts food on the table of unemployed youths.
-This is Nigeria
Where clerics find paradise on earth
Lo! followers live as church rats withal.
-This is Nigeria
Where Eve plotted against a serpent
Hm! Mrs Philomena and her fairytale animal.
-This is Nigeria
Where Sundays are full of bibles and Qurans,
Yet her body stinks in poo of immorality.
-This is Nigeria
Where the mace is a mess in her house
As senators sleeps and vacate seats in a hearing.
-This is Nigeria
Where in Nigeria
We are looking for Nigeria.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 10:46 AM UTC
Birds have their homes.
This bird made this world,
Its own home.
When other birds struggled
To make friends beyond their homes,
This bird made followers and comrades,
Transformed them
The perseverent leaders of a challenging mission
It put its foot on Argentina and
Set its victorious fight in Cuba.
Availed losses in Congo
Voiced and breathed every millisecond
Struggled recklessly for a mission,
Freedom, peace & prosperity of all its fellow birds
Beyond borders.
The most superior of the superior birds
With an infinite and complex strings of cunningness
Put an end to this bird in Bolivia.
At the end, the bird failed
Fell a prey for other selfish birds.
As a root that fell and
Buried itself in the soil with an infinite power.
To give hope and shelter,
To all those who come under it,
For the near future and coming generations
The bird died!
But its mission ignited the phoenix flames
In its bird comrades.
Got them to fight for
Every drop of Injustice, Imperialism and hatred
That came racing towards them
As an inescapable bullet
Their hearts raised in spirit
When every drop of its thought
Hit them more fierce than
The world’s most powerful atomic bomb.
The bird died.
But its ideals for the mission
Rekindled the fires in their heart.
Being born an ordinary bird,
Fighting for the most demanded & toughest mission,
Its thought and principles
Set new leaders to fight the unattainable mission
Now, looking the most possible
Within an attaining distance
The bird lived its life,
An ordinary and the most challenging one.
But transformed a phoenix,
When it left the world.
And created more of
Daring Phoenix warriors;
Attain a world filled with peace and happiness.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
I log into the network of my self-esteem,
To see the hearts and the wows and the laughs flooding in.
A simple 'like' wouldn’t cut it anymore
‘Likes’ were so 2010, even 2010 was bored.
‘Cause that’s the zeitgeist of the age, you see,
A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves.
Loves and kisses are a dime a dozen,
With a million friends and followers double.
National debates and social justice petitions,
Real crises, distorted renditions.
High definition photos of disaster zones
Flash up against cat videos on every smart phone.
Snapchat filters do not lie,
Just tell a story of hours gone by;
Selecting the perfect background, the ideal shade
To express love on the dozen’th date.
But that’s the zeitgeist of the century,
A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves.
To document in minute detail, with extensive pictorial evidence
Clockwork days of humdrum nonchalance.
And perhaps the generation that came before
Would call it vanity, vainglory, or something more.
But it ain’t like they were without their sins,
We didn’t invent tabloid columnists.
And now that we are at the end,
Let me sign off with this request:
Like, comment, and share your love
Let your heart fall out of your shirt cuff.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
Forgive yourself
Perfect was never a word suited for you
Love yourself
Everything comes back to this
Love your sister
She has been picked apart, degraded, and has an internal war eating her from the inside out
Love your brother
He has a time stamp of deliverance to a life of incarceration, bullets released from an absence of sense, lack of educated, blind ambitious followers.
Raise your head
You are a Goddess created
with disarming beauty in mind.
Continue to place one foot in front of the other
You are meant and strongly designed for forward movement.
Take no steps back, do not bow down your head, do not close your mouth
In fear that judgment will fall
It will, but you must speak anyways.
Your voice is imperative
to the growth of lost girls who are unsure what real women are made of.
Your voice is imperative to the peaking of the minds of men unsure what to look for in a Queen, show him.
Your voice is imperative to the readjustment of the image of
Black Women with large voices
Black Women with high diction
Black Women with love language
Black Women with literary genius
Black Women filled with nothing less than the peace & love God has manifested within us.
Black Women
Black Women
Black Women
Who love Black men like double chocolate moist bliss
Who love White men like dark roast coffee filled with cream
Who love Latino men like Butterscotch candy dipped in chocolate
The list goes on
Black Women who love like we are bound to implode if we don't give the universe what it is that we need back.
Black Women
Your Mother
Black Women
Your Sister
Black Women
Your Friend
Black Women
Your Lover
Black Woman
Love Her.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
Part II of "Got 0 Followers"
aim high
to keep
it low
expectations
such an
Awesome Awful
curse
others infect
you with
don't, yada yada,
ya wanna be like
Tom, **** and Jane,
even Harry, a transgendered
friend and fellow (ha) outcast,
all with a good job
prospects of a
goodly tented long life?
so ya write poems
to nobody
about nothing and
you are pleased
to be pleasing just yourself
in writing you have
nothing to prove,
so read them
like keepsakes
ya like,
keep 'em & me hid,
in the shoebox
under the closeted
pile of ***** clothes,
special designer outfits concocted
so they keep my remains,
privatized and unsanitized,
my equity,
hidden,
disguised as disgusting
but for god-sakes
don't follow me,
unless
you want to curse us
both with
Expectations of Expectations,
then comes with
illiteracy of
Affection
then the literary
pre-tension
that always follows,
leading to
Affectation,
the first derivative of the infection of affection
yeah,
then comes
caring
and it instantly it's too late,
you're *******
right up the mental heine,
lost condemned
ruined annihilated
crushed subverted
crushed into
mental death camp suffocation of more, please ma,
can I have some more?
crap, why did you have to go and follow me?
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
the only way that he could say bye
buying a red rose and watching it die
dying to find some other way
weighing his options to live another day
he couldn't help but to feel like a heel
healing was hard and the pain was real
reality soaked him like torrential rains
reigning over his will to remain
(I am trying to get back to following the ones who follow me, or take interest in my writing. The best way to **** out" was to unfollow all, and then look at the list of my followers. I hate to be that way, but i also hate to see the ones who unfollwed me on my "home" page. Please bear with me, because it will only allow me to follow so many people a day apparently.)
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
They called it democracy
Given the citizen the right to vote
Is this the so called Democracy?
When Given the right and told to vote
Give your vote to no other
Or you'd face the consequences
labelled as UNWORTHY CITIZEN
Be followers of the system forever
Don't even think or try to be SMART
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
It started with a pen,
and wound up in English.
No diction, addiction, or
ambition,
to get published.
“Don’t scream and you’ll look normal.”
Screaming “MISOGYNY!”
if screaming at all,
I’ve seen the great minds of
my generation
addicted to Adderall.
Some friends who get wasted,
and I remain sober.
Cheap ‘03 cars, yet,
no ones coming over.
Actors without work now,
no one with opportunity.
Suicidal crazies now,
crafted from 80’s and 90’s responsibility,
and A is for Adderall.
Sugar coated heroine,
designer drugs.
Poor blacks, whites, mexicans,
and asians swept under the rug.
“The father, the son,
the invisible hand.”
Crack in prisons, *****
holy ******* in a BMW,
Feminism, becomes communism,
becomes atheism becomes you.
You so counter-culture,
you forgot about us,
“She’s not an angel friends,
throw her under the bus.”
Politicians in purple now,
blessed American royalty.
Slaughter the disenfranchised,
poor, socialist regime,
and A is for Adderall.
Don’t shoot the police,
shoot the children instead,
or send them to war,
but the war had to end.
“In god we trust, but
in the market we invest.”
So occupy Wall Street,
and get called a hippie,
or occupy college,
and become a dead beat?
In high school you’re told,
be what you will be.
Cancer is still a…
“…”
…Hereditary disease.
Actors without work still.
Politicians lying still.
Suicidal crazies.
Ecstasy filled crazies.
Counter-culture conformist.
Culture conformist.
Eco-terrorist.
Mindless consumer.
Junkies, addicts,
soldiers, students,
leaders, followers,
murderers, democrats,
conservatives, liberals,
republicans, child molesters,
sexists, racists.
No more labels.
It was every single individual.
Individual failure.
One by one, we were all found guilty.
You are guilty. I am guilty,
and
A is for Adderall,
and the new marginalized.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
My dear friends
Go on and enjoy yourselves
Slumber the morn away!
It seems early on Saturdays
I've always far to much to attempt to convey
While my few kind heart-ed followers
Tend to sleep their mornings hours
Peacefully in and out of REM
While I'm at the computer rhyming again...
It's late
You passed your chance for early waking
Hell you miss out on a great early baking!
And now it's far past time for eggs and bacon
The munches, as you can guess
Have all been forsaken
And what did you achieve
With extra sleep
Morning dreams of distorted thoughts
Poetic themes now subconsciously lost?
I know, I know
You made wonderful love the night before
And you need your beauty rest
I read your writing, I get it
you are so blessed!!!!
I went to bed alone and played
With the thoughts of someone wanting me
I wish my poems could reflect
But all they do is bleed
How I envy all my followers
If I offend
Give me a holler
You've been hanging out late
With a habits to itch
We all have a role to play
Unfortunately
By the time you get around to reading this
I'll either be asleep
Or on my way!
.....
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC