"historys" poems
Once through the car park all myths end
Vinyl dragons gone all gums
Drone bored tape loops behind bars
Kids whack each other with blow -up swords
All want to be rightful kings
On this island
Of tooth-rot sweets. key fobs , pencils
Around the square tables
The plastic grail leaks tacky residue
Historys dustbin overflows
We fight a losing battle with wasps
Coach loads bear us away
We were born at the wrong end of time
Here lies England
The sword well and truly sunk
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 6:07 AM UTC
There is science to a broken heart
When the heart strings that connect the valves of your soul collapse
When the veins are full and heavy with the weight of let downs and false promises
When your bones ache the same as a near fatal injury
Know that it is not a phantom pain
Not an empty longing
For a temporary someone
You mistook as permanence
The ghosts of their skin forever
haunting with their former touch
The pain of a ruptured spirit
Is equal to that of being hit by a truck
Going full speed down the highway
Lights off
No warning signs
Is equal to the pain associated with The inability to forget
You place a do not enter sign around your heart
Next to the caution tape
Marked on your skin
The science to a broken heart
Can not be found
In an anatomical enclyopedia
But it's existence
Is not to be questioned
Heartbreak has been researched
Enscribed by historys greatest
For fitzgerald felt the blows to his being
From love that thrashed with winds and currents
A hurricane
Often the subject of their own experiments,
Writers are the scientists who study broken hearts
Words used as algorythms
Attempting to respond to
Questions we might never get an answer to
We're often left wondering
And often time its suffice
Because if we were to know why
Why the sun aches for the moon When the moon only has love for the stars
Why the theory of newton and gravity
Will never account for humans falling
Why storms are named after people
If we knew
We might not expose ourself to said research
We like the unknowingness
That science has yet to offer a conclusion to
The unknowingness that is often synonymous
With love.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
These are the scars i wear
historys of the skin that tears
its a constant reminder
of things that could have been kinder
I'l never forget
but that doesnt say its a regret
people will see
and wonder how many, are just like me
how many will share these scars?
and dream of running in front of cars
scream those silent shouts
pray that someone finds out
they'll tell you to stop
never knowing what you really want
all you can hope foris something to shake you
down to your core
to make you see, you dont need this
so unclench your fist
put down your weapon
and resist
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 11:21 PM UTC
That is correct lad,
A beautiful one too
I will now pull a rabbit out do a hat
Ah ha
I'm going to change all poems forever
Ok
Lklklj
Trust me, it's gonna be like so great an jjj. What?
I'm going to go down in historyS best poet ever
Watson it to ya
You just see tll it'll be great yay
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
The chief of vessels,
Here he lingers still,
gormless and ruthless,
guilty and ill.
The matriarch will protect you,
courageous and fair.
Swords may dive around and above too,
But she will not flinch, She will not care.
This omen is an old friend,
One we have learnt to disguise ourselves from,
Bonded by blood they may be,
But their blood is cursed and wrong.
A jester jumps entertaining us,
Distract yourself from historys doing,
Whilst the matriarch guards the doorway,
The chief is left to ruin.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 1:42 PM UTC
'Money man' 'money man' where did you go?
It's almost evening now,
Go to the pub.
If the night sky fall on your shoulders now ~you bow.
No halo rich alcohol,
Just a galon of wine
for the night,
With an angel dressed tight,
Money dissappear like dusty stars on extinction,
Money man you're now stretched by a tight spring girl ,
Historys most materialistic tension.
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
Please can I have
My America back
The one that I had
When I was a kid
The one that I pledged
Heart covered with hand
It was no secret kept
The day that she left
The one that I knew
In my days of youth
Where the flag proudly flew
Star Spangled Banner the tune
With historys proof
Never to lose
Now where did she move
The country that I once knew
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
The foundation of
our library is
a section we
refuse to see.
Historys largest
collection of stories
just endless tales
of suffering
All of them
both blindly written
and left unread
by all of us.
Too much shame in
our work for
our work to
ever improve.
Everyone an author
even if we only want
to see ourselves
as books.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
That damnable revolving dot
Gnaws at my patience,
Grates at my tolerance,
Prevents the necessary delving into our historys.
....and frustrates the HELL out of ALL of your people, Eliot!
Get it fixed, PRONTO!
M.
Sep 7, 2024
Sep 7, 2024 at 1:14 AM UTC