"frequence" poems
Sit broken
Sulkin'
Softly weepin' wisps which then
Withdraw themselves from all of this
Fickle
And fiendish
You'd have my arms and legs bound tight
You're sulkin'
Broken
Without remorse, without respite
I'm nervous,
Workless
And functionless in all your eyes
You're girlish
And cutesy
You give them eyes to get replies
I've never-
You've never?
You finish thoughts and work your little fingers down my
Spine
-chorus-
Uproot the weeds inside you
Fine
I'm through with being fruitless and
Surprised
By old attempts to change our ways
Besides
We're newly polished anyways
We're newly painted, off the line
The bitter
And nameless
Are working after hours to reface this
And shame it
It sits and spins and multiplies
With frequence
I feel it
I feed a framework filament fire
And hapless
You're hopeless
I'm hoping on another line-
To find out what's been sanctified
Who sacrificed to tranquilize
And backfired by bullshittin'
So now I'm sleepy saunterin'
To see what life's like on the other side
(Chorus)
-breakdown-
If we cared
We could whisper cloudy whiteness where there
Used to be only filth and flies
I'm sick of sentimentalism
Sick of sinking in
I'm feeling fine.
-chorus-
Uproot the weeds inside you
Fine
I'm through with being fruitless and
Surprised
By old attempts to change our ways
Besides-
We're newly puffed up anyways
I've walked the line from Z to A
We're freshly painted hypocrites
At least this time I won't be so surprised.
-fin-
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
The Doctor named Seuss was such a great man.
He wrote words so deftly like few others can.
In fact, to this day we honor his rhyme,
Or, I do, at least, to waste all my time.
It's odd how with frequence I get up the urge
To write tiny ditties: a poetry surge.
I'm volted to pen any number of things,
Shocking, to me, like a staticky sting.
Whenever I am s'posed to be working,
I notice that my duties I'm shirking.
Perhaps without pressure my mind is more fun,
But by the same token, I get nothing done.
Maybe I study so well that it spills
Onto my other thinking-type skills.
My mind works so hard that it often requires
More wood to fuel my thinking cap's fires.
Anyways, I'm probably ******* for my test.
I wish I could say that I studied my best,
But honesty stabs me for truth til I'm ******
The truth is that I fail when I "study."
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 8:26 AM UTC
Spirit fooled, my roots are blue now…
a birth insemination façade, it’s all really just a departure station
Blood is overrated like heirlooms now,
my earth interpretation of the Son is really just a miniature statue
From good to bad, popped the lid off by shoplifting,
Coz’ I’m from the hood and glad I can prop what I pulled off by uplifting.
This conniving side, Kundalini said it’s critical…
I remember the pain of discomfort in jail...
Sleeping inside that biting minky next to a Criminal clustered my praying effort to make bail. Spitting fire across with rage, the only love I can feel is from my Mother, so beware of blind fury...My Siblings’ wires are crossed with age, they only love what they can feel from Matter and Affairs , as if bewitched by Muti. I don’t have friends, rather Associates, there’s nothing like a relationship controlled by a timely device. The Real Ones are under the Sand, I call them Appropriates…She was ahead of her Creation ship but opposed by a tide of an untimely demise. Now I’m in solitude on this table surrounded by demons, but Jesu still breaks bread…A Soldier should learn to stay stable even though his bound to say “Yes” to deal with fake Men.
So fasten your seatbelt and countdown the launch sequence
Ready to blast off this sieged land compound, notch the frequence…
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
I remember the raining clinging to your dress
as your tears and fury meshed, you were so upset
with me - the sight I will never forget.
Tense moments filled with regret.
love negated be selfishness.
the fury in your eyes matched your lipstick.
As we would fight every night the angry would ignite.
your struck out -- in fear, that was your instinct.
so much pent up anger, we would fret - so pathetic.
I forgive but wont not forget
my own heart I had to protect
it seems like in your hands you would forget
start playing games, my heart flops and you change the subject
I treated you like my Highness,
you treated me like a subject.
that you could just turn your back on
and walk away from when you were upset
your words left their imprint
the day passed and so did the incident
my heart wears the mark like a dent
accidents happening-- became a coincidence
more than hearts get broken -- time wasted for instance.
so moving on was my the next frequency I had to frequence.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
delinquent, juvenile
Sneaking with Old timers
I ride the back of the truck...
The frequence, a few miles…
Cheeky with Oppenheimer
I hide the back of my trunks
pops that question…
A Star called Scar??
My Pops’ Jazz collection
A smart old spark
Pops was that fashion
And his smart old car
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
I write out the way I feel
with words unable to express
the feelings I conceal
and a mouth unwilling to confess
my state of incompleteness
desiring to be not depressed
to retain my consiousness
my feelings are left unexpressed.
I've always wanted answers
I've always asked questions
became a freelancer
in line with my obsession
following this sequence
I'm exposed to life
with it's frequence,
I see the wildlife.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 5:40 PM UTC
the Queen of Night.
the Walking Wonder.
Quirky Delight.
a Living Thunder.
barking at Dogs.
necklace with Bloodstones.
saving small Frogs.
from traffic war Zones.
inciting Fights.
among the fence Poles.
dancing through Lights.
steps shared by lost Souls.
avoiding Cracks.
inside of Walkway.
fixing Syntax.
of ash in Ashtray.
gives pristine Jewels -
royal gift to Ants.
two sugar Cubes,
for loyal Servants.
another Bar.
moon isn't down Yet.
does not live Far
and longs to Forget.
purse full of Change.
deformed by train Wheels.
orders in French.
with cute smile that Heals.
sparks in her Eyes
reveal her Passion:
flirting with Guys -
out of Compassion.
avoiding Salt,
and telling Secrets.
touching Basalt,
with increased Frequence.
mourning for Wine -
four empty Glasses.
makes stars Align -
while playing with Matches.
walks out the Door.
with grace of stray Cat.
to a near Store.
just to get yelled At.
drowsy sun Yawns.
or so birds Whisper.
running though Lawns.
now streets will miss Her.
like drunken Bee.
and full of Chuckles.
finally Free.
yet always in Shackles.
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 9:11 AM UTC