"inkpen" poems
I thought of you when i woke up
And how you stopped my heart beating last night..
All of the butterflies in my stomach are choking now,
They're falling hard like burnt fireflies..
And i'm out of town for a whole month,
I've got a new city to wander in
But every day when i wake up
I'll wonder why you're so fond of him
Cause its been years and years now
And i'm still saving for a half sleeve tattoo,
So i can wake up smiling to an art based on you
And all the good times we have yet to go through
And it's been years and years now
And every summer i've got my black pen on the go,
I'll pen your name up on the billboards so all the busy streets all know,
And i'll pen a heart on my sleeve that keeps on beating for you
I'm writing poems with mixed intentions
I'm trying hard to narrow it down..
So i'll write a song,
Throw away the acoustic sound..
Cause all i feel is electric now..
And nothing's supposed to hurt for this long, no not this long
And theres blood from my heart not inkpen, spilled on our favourite song
But its been years and years now
And you said that change was good for us all
And that pain was something you had to let go,
But your song is all i hear on the radio..
And it's been years and years now
And every summer i feel like the sun's raining down on me
Cause i'm about to drown in other people's positivity,
I just need a way to absorb that from just me..
So i'll ink your name on a band aid
And find some new band mates
And then i'll trade in your favourite records,
For some new cd's since i wrecked yours
And i'll pen out a watch, pouring out endless amounts of time
So on my wrist it'll never say
That its 'holding on' time
Cause i can't live without you
Not even for a day
But i'm gonna have to learn how to
Wash the inkstains from my veins
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 6:42 AM UTC
Breathing deeply; stretching, fencing, and the writing inkpen
Breathing outward; shoveling, climbing, and the driving wheel
Breathing inward; directing, leading, and the staffing meeting
Collapse the boundaries and calm, our young one
Few survivors feed the light to a maze of mirrors
Breathe deeply; shining, reflecting, and giving light
Breathe outward; being, becoming, and joining union
Breathe inward; en masse, en masse, en masse!
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
Time was spent and time was taken
Wars were fought and lives were shaken
Sons were lost in foreign battles
Dignitaries are greatly rattled
The cost of Freedom has no maxis
Nothings free, but dealth and taxes
Debt's unchecked without the money
Bills are real, and that's not funny
A need for cash is why we're working
That girl next door, gets paid for twerking
Those, like me, we're paid to slaughter
Foreign fighter's sons and daughters
As they charged with vest, full laden
Of explosives, lives were taken
But, that's ok, there will be others
Pregnacies of angry mothers
Churning out the next rotation
Feed on hate, like cheese and bacon
They grow to hate the American statis
Not taught with books, but automatics
AK fourty-seven practice
Everyday they horn their tactics
In the hills they learn a trade
**** Americans, get paid
Not in cash, but, lushous virgins
For a suicide incursion
Martyrdom for cause and faith
A good idea or bad mistake
Only you control your live
So, die like rats, or learn to fight
Constitutionally, I'm speaking
These laws of ours, could stand some tweaking
Need more freedom; less restriction
And keep this government out my kitchen
I've got rights, so, ****** respect it
I've earned the right to roll this Lexus
Inkpen Slinger, is what you called me
Now, acting like you never say me
Mind so potent, it's illegal
All my poems, they come with sequels
Like this here, I thought and dropped
Another thousand in my pocket
I'm as lucky as a four leaf clover
But, as for now, it's done and over
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
The inkpen on the table
Bleeds far less than its owner
Maybe that's the reason why
She never smiles anymore
The inkpen on the table
Has been shaken far less than its owner
Maybe that's the reason why
There's nothing left to salvage from this wreck
The inkpen on the table
Is not as black as the soul of its owner
Maybe that's the reason why
He has to be rewritten all the time
Jan 26, 2023
Jan 26, 2023 at 5:34 PM UTC