"gossiper" poems
12/22/2018
I’m walking through the halls
Trapped in by suffocating walls
I’m walking through the doors
Over the decaying floors
Who has walked through them?
And where were they walking from?
A broken desk
Or a secluded bathroom stall?
Memories and laughter or
Tears and sobs evermore?
Have these hallways heard confessions?
Or witnessed just depression?
Have they made memories of laughter ?
Have these windows shown truth of all of the lies?
Or only a glimpse of an aggravated sunrise?
Are the walls shrines of the past?
Holders of all questions asked?
If the curtains wave in the gentle autumn breeze
Is there still an ill wanted disease?
The dilapidated ceiling watched over inhabitants
Still built perfectly built but falling apart
And visitors that were seen as contaminants
The unwanted one
The one no one would notice if they were gone
The same one that screamed for help here
For anyone to be near
Or the one who was popular
A class A top gossiper
The one with a sharp tongue
But no one knows that it’s wrong
The hallways whisper the secrets
Of their strongest weakness
The halls tell the stories they may
Of friends on their departing highway
And the friends who are just meeting
Smiles, laughter and a warm greeting
I’m walking through the halls
Trapped in by suffocating walls
I’m walking through the doors
Over the decaying floors
Waiting for a voice to hear
For anyone to show they're near
Waiting here forever
I won't leave this place, never
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 12:23 PM UTC
Some call me a prophet
Others see me as a derelict
These stories I’ve stored in my head
Can easily be twisted to fantasy
Am I reliable?
You have no choice
But to take what I say and believe
At least for a little while
I believe the listener
Is as naïve as I seem
Sitting on every detail
Every word
While visiting Southwark
I met a variety of characters
From different means of life
With different perspectives on the world
Looking innocent has its advantages
It gives me a leeway
To invade other’s privacy
And extend the truth to the edge of fabrication
Have you ever questioned a storyteller?
We all seem friendly
We talk highly of everyone we meet
Until we dive deeper into their secrets
The Squire
Composing music is his forte
I say it sounds beautiful
And he seems fresh as the month of May
The Friar
A gossiper full of language
I hope to understand
To grasp
A Sailor
Having bad joints
From extensive labor.
He must work substantially to acquire those injuries
The Summoner
Full of white pimples
Yet drinks red wine
As red as blood
I create a story
Yet can end it all the same
I tell you what you want to hear
Not what reality presents in front of me
For life is not exciting
Without a bit of imagination.
And with my mastered poker face
It may be impossible to seek out my lies
The darkness inside us all
Can peek its head at any time
Consuming us into a downward spiral
Of lie after endless lie
So am I reliable?
We’ll just have to see.
So here comes a story
Told by me.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
I AIN'T EASY & IT TAKES A LOT TO PLEASE ME,
I DO WHAT I WANT & HOW I PLEASE,
PLEASE DON'T DICTATE TO ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW I MUST BE,
I'M FIRE & ICE,
I'M-HEARTS BROKEN MENDING ON FENCES.....
I'M A LADY WHO KNOWS JUST WHAT SHE WANTS
AND
ITS UP TO ME TO FULFILL MY DREAMS....
BE A REAL MAN OR LEAVE ME BE!
*DON'T WORRY ABOUT MY SULTRY WALK
OR
WHO MY LEGS PART FOR- IT'S RARE
AND HE MUST
LOVE ME MORE THAN LIFE IT SELF,*
I'M NOT MEANT
TO SIT UP ON A SHELF.....
DON'T THROW ACCUSATIONS MY WAY
WITH OUT FACTUAL PROOF,
WHAT I DO IN MY OWN HOME
CAR & OR BED ROOM
DOESN'T CONCERN YOU!
LABEL ME *BOLD BLACK SOULFUL
& OH SO PECAN PUERTO RICAN'LY BEAUTIFUL*
IF YOU MUST LABEL
ME AT ALL!
DON'T ASK MY NEIGHBOR
CUZ
I'M NOT AFRAID
TO TALK OR FACE YOU.....
*GOSSIPER
SPEAK UP
AND
NOT BEHIND MY BACK,
I WORKED FOR MY SHARE
AND
I DON'T HAVE TO
PUT ON AIRS OR AN ACT.*
CALL ME A ****
A ***** OR *****
HA HA HAA HAA....
THINK ABOUT ME .....
YEAH
YOU MUST
CUZ
YOUR LIVES SUCH A BORE!
*DON'T WORRY ABOUT
WHAT MY KIDS ARE MIXED WITH
AND WHY THEY GOT GOOD HAIR!!!!*
IT AIN'T YOUR BUSINESS
IF THEIR PLAYING
ON THE LAWN,
LEAVE MY KIDS ALONE
OR YOU'D
*BE ****** HARMED.*
YOUR WATCHING
MY HOUSE
& WATCHING ME LIKE A HAWK.....
STALKING ME FROM ACROSS
THE STREET,
IM SURE YOUR IN YOUR
WINDOW WATCHING
TRYING TO SEE....
IMAGING ME
AS YOU BEAT YA MEAT,
SHE'S
ACROSS FROM ME TOO
TRYING TO SEE-
ALL THE WHILE
PLAYING WITH
HER BULLET
VIBRATING TOOL....
SADLY YOUR HATING ME
BUT WISHING
YOU
WERE JUST LIKE ME!
A LINGUISTICALLY - LIONESS.....
BUT YOUR YOU
*& I'M
IMPERFECTLY ME!*
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
Mar 8, 2011
Mar 8, 2011 at 2:28 PM UTC
superfluous love
for a discipline
is so much to
that of
information to a gossiper
******* to a drug addict
a dangerous concoction for a aspiring witch
.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
Maggie knew everything that took place
in and out of the neighborhood.
She was always willing to talk about the
things that meant others no good.
Maggie the towns gossiper who's always
looking for a place to roam.
She could talk about the business of
everybody's except for her own.
Maggie always stood in her doorway looking
for someone she could criticize.
She criticized everybody except for the
man who's blackening her eyes.
Maggie may wake up one day and realize
that we all sometimes hurt.
She may even come to grips about her own
life and stop living in the dirt.
Maggie knows that a black cat moves about
in the darkness of the night.
Police cars parked outside her home let's
others know that something isn't right.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
**** the fakes,**
like for goodness sake.
we're forced into a prison with
plastic dolls, who always go to the mall and fall for the sport guys who are as tall as the skies. //
forget about,
the girls who destroyed your world.
i doubt, i doubt, that they actually care. look at them as they flip they hair, talking about you 24/7; then smiling at you the next day asking if you were okay, as if they cared.//
ignore the,
teachers who continue to bring you down, and laugh as they watch you frown in the bleachers. instead smirk at them, and be a goal achiever, become sucessful and laugh quietly as you see shock come upon their faces.//
prove to them how strong you are,
show them that you're as bright as a star
be yourself, read books from bookshelves, do whatever. but don't become a fake, or a doubter or a gossiper, always be true, and be you.//
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 6:51 PM UTC
We all have done it.
And would be a liar to say we didn't.
You know told something.
When we shouldn't have.
But, I still hate the friend.
Who claims they are speaking for you to the press?
Where they place their own opinions into the mess.
If, I really wanted the news to know.
Then, I would have confessed the story months ago.
But, then someone people loves to be before the cameras.
And that have never been me.
Because many gossipers loves to create a variety of things.
Just to see you respond.
What they always seems fail to realize in the end?
A lie stays around while the real true fades into the dark.
And then the friends will say they never believe any of that.
Except,they fail to tell you they was getting paid behind your back.
We all seem people smile before your face.
And stabbed you in back without a glance.
Things that you probably only told to one.
Is now heard all arond the town you live in.
All because of the gossiper.
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 4:19 AM UTC
Chinese say cursed is that glowing up in times of change
Childhood: sunny, monotonous, always limited
But predictable and warm
With a face of our sacred syphilitic
Soon to be desposed.
Gramps the ****** he was, enjpying the forms of his son's whife
Shame wasn't his thing, neither was it my dad's
So he blinked, joked and turned
The other way
Grandma the saintly creature always a leader always so moral
When she read her bible, gave me sour aftertaste
To last through the years. Gossiper lady could start a war
Raising me an enemy to my own father. Why? I still don't know.
Uncle: the beautiful and charming creature of the void
Pleading begging blinking with long eyelashes
For treatment with what he was supposed to be treated against
Those beautiful gator tears...
Later - school, idiotic teachers,
Peers proud of crawling, the lowest wins!
Disillusionment started to sink in.
Are you still thinking? Weird!
No hopes, no dreams, no identity
No culture, no history
All thrown out the window
Music, values, inspiration and the rest
Revolution mades like to clear out space for the new beginnings
Starting from the point zero. Could have been neanderthals.
Slaves couldn't fix themselves some freedom
They only saw in movies.
They went with the flow -
papa government will feed, treat and raise
cattle that we were.
Are you questioning still? Get in the line!
Looked up to crime and punishment
To learn my true heritage
All made sense, especially the urge to flea.
Could not breathe the airless any longer
Felt frog growing in my chest
******* out aspirations and infusing fears
Learned helpless buddied up to crows
And abandoned buildings.
And a joint on the edge of the roof was one thing
To make me feel alive.
Almost married one day then awoke
With a startle packed bags
Five hundred bucks in my sock
And away I flew.
To learn you never gain without a loss
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Stories are meaningful in life.the stories have a story teller.a listener and gossiper .
What is important is to listen and analyze them.
It is the gossipers that broke your heart
You cut my stories
I was meaning each and every one
After your silence
I was heartbroken
I lost track and the only one who cared enough
Took my lonely piece of heart
But my problem is
I fabricate the stories to tell her
But I have no will to share with her
I have no heart to share true stories any more
In short I have no love
But
You took it all from me
Kindly return some for me to give her
She needs it.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
He is neither hue nor leucoplain.
No, not mean, just humane.
Hatch to good codes
And harsh to misconduct.
A delight to the grey; a connecting figure.
One of a kind, non-gossiper,
Door keeper to secrets kept.
Not proud of pride.
Cardiac chamber…mon ami:
succour for the low.
His every step is marked on slates
whispered around in shadowy sheds
The grandson of a devout
Who stood his ground
against the horseman and his sword.
Reviled by the sharers of same chalice.
His good, their acrimony;
His smile, their scowl.
“Why spread his hand thus?
We, too, are Abrahams”.
He feared not for his blood
‘cause the Lamb is on His post.
A slap to Prophet False
who creeps into innocent homes
And peeps through frail shrouds.
Dark apprentice called “daddy”
Drunk on mystical drinks: green-eyed monster
Whose sneeze is snuffed
By his knees that humble not.
Chained, yet darts at the dear.
But the lonely believer staggers on
Eyes gazed on the path.
His conscience is a witness.
A clean heart he offers
To whom his spirit answers.
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 6:54 AM UTC
We listen to the news.
Oh, boy don't we ever.
And they have one thing in common.
Which to them isn't so alarming.
A source told me.
My source confirm to me.
The same source just speaking about a little.
But not a lot.
All because their information is mostly made up.
Strange, as it seems, most conflicts never make the screen.
Terminology confers a lot.
Some of mixed definition.
Source to one.
Is a gossiper to another.
Where things get twisted?
And the truth barely told.
And then they want you to confirm the real truth.
But why should you?
If it's about you.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC