"jist" poems
No ****** or dawdling just for fun
Gotta be the best gotta be #1
I scrutinize every detail
Until I am done
If I am not perfect I turn face and run
Its just a day in the life of a perfectionist
I could go on and on and make a long list, but I'm hopeful already that you all get the jist
I'd love to sit down and draw some cool art
But if every line wasn't perfect I'd crumple it up or tear it apart
However, I know that I'm talented and sharp as a dart
But my ideals are too critical and not very smart
However, this is my reality. So I hardly can start
Eh, Scratch all that - I guess I need to restart
Its all in a day of a perfectionist
I've reversed on my promise and made you a list
I'm second guessing myself that you're getting the jist
I'd love to sit down and write a poem or two
But it's impossible to write perfection though - we all know this to be true
That fact on its own is bringing me down and making me blue
Its making me sick like I'm getting the flu
How can I ever release this poem? What will I do?
Ugh! I've gotta scratch this again and come up with something that's new!
Don't you see? This is the life of a perfectionist
I've given examples and made a small list
But I'm confident now that you all get the jist
Of just what's its like being a perfectionist.
Hold up! There is one more thing I'd like to say
I beat myself up every night, every day
And although I fall short, I pray and I pray
That this wicked perfectionism will not stay
That one day I'll be content with myself and that it'll stay that way.
Now I'd like to wrap this all up - if I may
Well, I guess thats just the way it is
In a day of the life of a perfectionist
You've heard my reasoning and you've witnessed my list
So I can certainly say that you all get the jist
Of exactly what its like being a perfectionist
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 6:26 PM UTC
Sociopathic spiritualist
Confused by this?
Ya gettin' the jist
Years in a green mist
Gorilla ****** at the sight of poachers hi-viz
Blatant thievery
Gettin' me irate & militant
Conductin' information like a cobalt filament
Hippocracies imminent
If you don't know the deal look at Africa's innocents
The future for a fee
Monitory
Cold as the Chukchi seas
If your wonderin' where they be?
Let go of Albert Square & check your geography
Menace to sobriety
Rudarellis playin' tennis with the moods it's supplyin' me
Preachin' no class As
Hittin' the mirror like the mans buyin' me
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 7:27 AM UTC
there was
a time in my life
when i didn't know
that
gin
existed.
at some point
someone put a
gin and tonic
in my hand,
and i said with delight,
"this is so refreshing!"
i bought the
cheapest gin
i could find
until i heard
snoop rapping
about tanqueray
and i thought to myself,
"what the hell is tanqueray?"
come to find out,
it is a delicious
gin, in a classy green
bottle with a red stamp.
how lovely!
things were just getting better!
i love limes, and
in no time,
a lime version of tanqueray,
"rangpur" arrived,
and i discovered
DIET LIME TONIC
life seriously couldn't get any better.
let's look at the mathematical equation, shall we?
gin=refreshing=limes=tanqueray=snoop=all around good times
marvelous. let's fast forward a decade.
gin=tanqueray=tears.
i honestly wish
life was not this
way and i
could go back
to the way
gin used to be.
and here is the
point i'm
trying to get to -
i'm so blah ...
so u n i n t e r e s t e d
so unfocused
that the thought
of going into a store
to get tonic was
too much for me to bear.
seriously.
so.
i'm drinking gin. with ice. and a little straw.
i have limes in my fridge,
and lime juice.
i looked at both of these items,
and could not summon
the strength
to move either
from the fridge to
the counter,
let alone my drink.
the next step on the road
to the river styx
is gin with no ice and a straw.
then just gin in a glass.
then just gin straight out of the ******* bottle.
then i would just eat the beautiful tanqueray glass bottle.
that seems to be the jist of things around
this place (by "this place" i mean earth) in general.
it's entropy. pick one of the definitions -
i'm pretty sure that poetically any of them apply.
personally, i think
heat death
sounds the best.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
So aye
We wir watchin
that David Attenborough
or tryin tae -
fower weans tearin up the joint,
an she's like,
See if youse dinny shut it...!
an aw that, ken -
You no gonny tell thum?
So ah'm like,
"Aye.
Wheesht, youse."
But it wis amazin, like.
These fish.
Years oot at sea.
Tiny wee at first,
dodgin sharks an jellyfish
an aw sorts,
awa oot, miles fae land.
(*God! Youse! Take it up the stair!
Tell thum, you!*
"Aye, boys. Listen tae yir ma.")
Then wan day, like
they get the urge, ken?
Got tae go.
An in they come,
surgin fae the sea,
these sleek, silver bullets
fat wi feedin.
(I'll no tell yis again!)
Nothin, an ah mean nothing
is gonny stop them.
Waterfalls? Nae bother.
Just pure hungry
fir the lassies, ken?
The boy Attenborough sais
they dinny even eat!
(*That's it! Ah tellt ye!
Here you! Take some responsibility,
wull ye?*
"Eh? Oh, aye.
Away tae yir rooms, boys -
yir ma tellt ye.")
These pure ***** divils
will loup up sheer cliffs,
baws burstin, bi the look ay it.
Poetry in motion, ken?
Like, ah dinny ken, pure water
brought tae life, an that.
Jist pure savage.
An then, haw -
they find the lassies!
An it's jist, like,
'splurge'!
Done the deed.
Gemme ower,
job done,
deid.
An there's this shot.
Ripplin shallows,
just fill ay the twitchin bodies.
Craws an bears an that,
queuin up fir the bonanza.
Jist, like,
totally
spent.
An she's aw,
*Here, is that no terrible?
Pair buggers!
Eifter aw that!*
An ah'm like,
"Aye."
But see inside,
ah'm thinkin,
"Lucky,
lucky ********
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
I walk across
to Hannah's flat
in Arrol House
and knock at the door
Mrs Scott opens
the door and stands there
she's a short thin woman
with a face of granite
with a slit
where her mouth is
whit is it?
she says
her Scottish accent
rough as stone
is Hannah home?
I ask
I dunnae kinn
she replies
HANNAH
she bellows
over her shoulder
Benedcit is haur fur ye
she adds
scowling at me
jist coming
Hannah replies
from back in the flat
yoo'll hae tae bide
Mrs Scott says
and walks back inside
leaving me
on the red tiled step
I look into the interior
of the flat
and smell breakfast
having been cooked
I look back
into the Square
kids are playing
near by
on the pram sheds
and over by the wall
girls are doing handstands
their feet
against the wall
dresses falling
over their heads
showing underwear
sorry about Mum
she has a mouth on her
Hannah says
where we going?
she asks
thought we'd go
to the South Bank
see the Thames and boats
and have ice cream
I say
do I need money?
she asks
just about 2/-
I say
for bus fares
and ice cream
I'll ask Mum
for a handout
but wait for the answer
Mum have you 2/-
I can have?
Hannah asks
fa dae ye hink
Ah am Rockerfeller?
nae Ah huvnae
her mother replies
no problem
I say to Hannah
I'll have enough
for us both
are you sure?
yes don't aggravate
your mother more
than you have to
so Hannah gets her coat
and we walk off
through the Square
she's like that sometimes
Hannah says
she's as tight
as a wing nut
we walk down the slope
and up Meadow Row
I ask her how her father is
she says
he's Ok but in
the doghouse more often
as not with Mum
but he's a softy
to Mum's hardness
but Mum says
he's soft in the heed
but he's lovely really
Hannah says
-I know her old man
he's English and a bit
simple after helping
to empty out Belsen camp
in 1945 where some
he told me were
more dead as alive-
we wait at the bus stop
she with her dark hair
pony tailed
with a tartan skirt
and white blouse
and me in blue jeans
and white shirt
and quiff of brown hair
and hazel eyes
she with a budding beauty
with her mother's
touch of tongue
who if roused
could give words
full lung.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 3:25 PM UTC
Ah didny recognise him fae the eulogy.
The meenister'd nivver met the lad, Ah could see.
A hero? Aye, mibbe. Jist a name tae maist ay these fowk.
But ah kent im as a boay,
the daft wee scapegoat, ayewis in boather,
but nae real hairm in im.
He wis the lad wha'd get skelped, the noise
makkin the teacher turn is heid
jist in time tae spot im skelpin back.
Mairched tae the heidie again.
"Yir a bad lot, Barry.
Yir faither wis a bad lot too."
Puir Baz.
Da in the jile,
Ma aff her face on smack,
an him, daft, funny, doomed.
If onybody at hame had cared enough
tae keep the schuil photies,
they'd have shown a wee freckly laddie
wi a too-open grin,
year eftir year,
jersey gettin tattier,
teeth getting gappier,
still grinnin while the rest ay us
were far too cool tae smile for the camera.
Ah liked im.
Didny unnerstaun how the teachers
were sae ***** tae im.
There wis far badder boays in the year.
Ricky ****** Jackson - a nasty, sleekit wee body,
yankin ab'dy's strings.
But his da wis rich
an the teachers fawned ower im.
No Baz, though.
Cannon fodder, richt enough.
Tackin the flack fir the rest ay us.
Exactly the kind ay lad
the ******* Army thrives on.
Ah canny feel the patriotic pride,
canny picture the self-sacrifice,
the heroism.
Ah can juist see im,
daft an grinnin,
daein whit he wis tellt
an gettin killt.
Mind you,
he wis aye headin for the poppies, that yin,
One wey
or anither.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
long hair long johns of sad happy
clear fog is the dog god doggone dog
kind of you to kind of listen
kindling burns like Hong Kong midnight brightlights
whose birthright, or birthwrong
down-under daggers for flags
flagged
flagulation
creative sensory compensated penitentiary
forward lad landing laughter for the last log on the fire
the last day for earth to say
please plead for plaid shirts to pay for themselves
otherwise there will be ****** for you to see
summer in the winter if I sprinkle a little bit more wood on my splinter
sink or swim, sink and swim, sink to swim
swim to sink
ah
um
oh
ehhem
undo your dress and undo your last mistake
please retake the photo so I can stay awake.
don't, I mean, yes
yes
hands could be cold
but
then
a
g
a
i
n
I just call it what I must
plustwo double yous in a zoo for the future flu's to cruise like truce
11/11/11 armistice
missed the list when you kissed my wrist
I extracted bliss from the Buddha's jist
just
cause?
just call for the muse music
don't mind me
I mean
yes,
yes
motorcade king of spades I got laid to the silence
of a forest in the poorest richness I've never ditched this
**** zip
zap
my zipper is a little critter crawling through the litter on the city's twitter account
doesn't amount to much but I sound like I'm salted in breath
dead like MacBeth, the challenge was the shaken speare
sprained everclear of the diamond tear or the shattered cheer of ancient seers
truth
is greater than fiction.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 11:24 AM UTC
Poured a cup of fruit juice to see it was only 5%
Artificially coating life, never tasting the truth of what it meant.
My motivation space in my brain is vacant, and open for rent.
Sorry if you have to share it with a guy on the inside that's seemingly hell-bent.
Parents shed your clarity and wisdom, as oppose to letting your anger fill them.
Screams in dreams rip me out of my fantasy right at the seams, and maybe,
Maybe I'll never know what it means.
Some could view me right now as apathetic,
but those are the same that see my words as babble, because they just don't get it.
I think I've stopped caring about the criticism,
Because I stay within the confines of my individualism.
Your judgements put walls around me, restrictions I don't need.
I realize we're different, down to the music on which we feed.
No one wants to see how we're similar,
Always casting categories to the unfamiliar.
***** the false idea that you live up to
The only way out is being Through, with all the ********
No more wrongdoings to persist.
I could speak forever, and for those who've listened, I hope you get the jist.
I'm ****** to remain in a state with people of a similar fate because we let it.
You must have it made if you're one who doesn't get it.
Aug 11, 2012
Aug 11, 2012 at 8:50 PM UTC
Hero in our textbook
Hide me from the next fix
It's too late
Look away
Subliminal crook
You get the jist
Chapter nine or rehab
Family and a daughter
I cry
It doesn't bother
What am I?
A monster?
Maybe
I wait
A **** star?
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
Whoa.
See that yin?
Jist sittin there?
Ye ken how she’s sittin like that, don’t ye?
Well, whit’s she sittin oan?
Aye, her erse.
She’s only sittin like that
So ye ken she’s got an erse.
Gaggin fir it.
An whoa, check that yin!
Wearin claes!
Filthy cow!
Whit dae ye mean, “Whit dae ah mean”?
Claes!
Ye canny wear claes
If ye huvny got a boady, can ye?
That’s right –
Just screamin it, so she is –
“Check oot ma boady!”
Aye, ah wull an aw!
Don’t mind if ah dae!
Aw, mate – that yin!
That yin ower there!
Bendin her airm!
See her?
Bendin her airm like a mucky ****
That’s so ye ken
She’s got elbows!
Phwoar, I ken your type hen –
you wi yir elbows an a’thin!
Desperate fur it, aren’t ye?
An man! This yin,
walkin towards us!
Breathin in an oot!
Whit a slapper!
Breathin in an oot!
Aye, ye need a pair o lungs tae dae that,
I bet, eh, hen?
A pair o fine, functioning lungs!
Aye, you use them, doll –
dinny you be shy!
Ah’m no!
Aw pal, haud me back!
This yin!
This yin eatin a meat pie!
Shameless wee ****
Aw yeah, baby,
I ken whit that means!
Mean’s ye’ve got yirsel
a **** wee digestive tract in there, no?
Ye dinny hae tae spell it oot tae me, love!
Probably got a pair o kidneys
tucked away in there too,
ye ***** wee *****
Aw the same, ur they no?
Aw ae thum.
Gantin oan it.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
The names they have called me echo around in my head,
reminding me of who people think I am.
But it's not like I got to choose that anyways.
My words can't affect their view of me,
but their words can affect the way I view myself.
Weird.
You said you were just joking.
That didn't make it hurt any less,
even though I claimed it did.
Then you moved on to calling me "limited edition"
because you thought weird was too hurtful.
It still hurts because you meant weird every single time you called me limited edition.
You moved back to weird eventually,
I think.
The names continued,
progressively getting worse and worse until you started calling me things I dare not repeat!
Oh, but I was laughing?
It was to keep the tears from falling because God knows that makes me a crybaby.
I thought we were best friends, and I was obviously wrong.
The only reason I stuck around you was because I had no one else.
You called me gay for hugging someone I thought was a friend at her birthday party.
Sweet little unforgettable thing.
You thought you could slide that one past me,
but I put the first letters together;
I know what you meant,
even though I have no idea why you'd call me that.
I've never had a boyfriend,
much less a first kiss.
Dumb.
I never really understood this one;
I'm top in my class.
That didn't mean the names didn't hurt,
because they did.
I just didn't understand.
This next one wasn't exactly said with words,
but I got the jist when you wouldn't let me hang out with you and your friends.
I wasn't cool enough.
I.
Wasn't.
Cool enough.
Little did you know
that your words continued
to plunge themselves like knives
into my vulnerable spinning wheel
of a heart
until you hit the bullseye
and it exploded into a million tiny shards
that I can't even begin to pick up.
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
I ran to the edge of Heaven today
Leaped from my bed and almost fell down a cliff
In a balled fist
I had a list
Your name was at the top of it
"Unfinished Business"
God says I have to keep living until you agree to die together
Isn't that why Marriage says Until Death do Us Part?
Yet you keep parting ways with me in the living
& No kidding besides my Fathers Death
You are the only memory that chokes me up
Like walking into a funeral late
Everyone there has already grieved
So you swallow, hard and quietly
The tears don't roll down your face
They bravely brace the fire escapes we call cheekbones
They know
That burning passion will create smoke in your eyes
Smoke in the eyes always creates water
Water helps things grow
& your heart has been dry for far too long
So today I took the last Birthday Card I ever sent you
Folded the sides of it down
Turned the corners of it upward
Got a running start from Earth
Launched it to the girl on the cliff in Heaven
She keeps reaching for me
Speaking to me
I need her to see
The Earth bound boy that makes Heaven worth the wait
The clouds in his hair
The wind in his laugh
Cools me in summer
Challenges me in winter
& scares me during my storms
He is all I've ever been
I know him
I owe him; a glimpse in the mirror
A ring around a rosie
A 1, 2 , 3 not it
A Happily EVer After
A you can do it Baby
AN I forgive you
Please forgive me
For laughing my real laugh
I know the snorting tickles you
I know you hate to be tickled
The plane never quite makes it to the cliff
Although intrigued by my love
She never quite gets the jist of it
& this stupid list
of Unfinished Business
Keeps auto correcting in your name...
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC
I may be slightly merry
Or even pretty ******
You might even say I'm wellied
(I'm sure you get the jist!)
And I may now talk like thish-ish
And be completely off my ****
But I'll wish you a merry Christmas
Because I love you guys to bits.
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC
The barrier of poison and ****
You're better than us
A metal chassis of rust
Anonymous.
This and that and jist and just
An abyss full of fuss
No love or lust
Anonymous.
Cease to speak or discuss
A might or a must
The empty pie crust
Anonymous.
Preference to throw or ******
Detest and disgust
To cry or get crushed
Anonymous.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 1:17 AM UTC
I have to hold back my tears. No one can see me like this, vulnerable and not in control.
They think that i can fend for myself, what do they know? Truth is im in need for their help, for their opnion and inspiring words.
For a long time it was me in the middle of the sandwhich. My older sister covering me, and i protecting my ypunger twin.
Its funny how the sandwhich turns into how my life is today. My older sister takes up all the spotlight, claimig it allfor herself. Absorbin all the attention until there is none left. I shake at the words she wont utter, like a simple please or thank you. How she would never help my mother how she leaves my mother fighting so hard, as she sits on the couch and jist watches. When my mother asks for her help she will make it more like a burden then helping out of respect. I will do any of those thigs in a heart eat just to take the stress off of my moms shoulders. But again thats how we differ...
As for my twin the one that i had felt the need to protect since we had been in the wound together 16 years ago. How can i put in words all the feelings she leaves on me? She is so irritable yet i yearn to watch her succeed. She is as slow as a turtle, yet sometimes shes as sharp as a knife . Some nights ill catch her talking to herself, it pains me to see her over think things. After so much effort of tryin to help her all i can do now is make beleive im sleeping, pull the covers over my head and let the tears roll down my cheek, burning it under their touch. She has this problem and the tendency to ovetthink thongs from the stipidest things to the most important. She lays them all on the same scale not considekg the dfferences betwene them . As muh as she overthinks , when she has an idea she lets it cloud her judgement.l
I remember thst one time in our cribs its blurr but i still feel it in my blood. Diane had my moms attentiom absorbed for she was alsay a cryer even when her head hutt a lottle bit. Michelle was sick with strep having my moms also and my dads granparents. Then my head throat and whole body was killing .. All i remmeber was keeping my mouth shut. And waitig for someone to come ask me how i was feeling. Which no one did.And still as i cry typing this no one will ask me how im feeling, for i have middle child syndrome
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
Any word never so softly spoken
never words ever so stately joking . . .
hopeless without dope
the whole world tokes--
just don't choke
and swallow smoke so toxic.
I've had it with this rock ****
wanting women to go *******
knock THIS with fists clenched to bliss
never was there ever so sinister a kiss.
don't miss this chance to be missed for misters miss's listless jist of this.
sound is forever
ever heard of white noise
its the sound of people fighting across the world forever ever for letters between a girl and a boy.
are you sure?
do you really want this?
can you bomb it, not drop it
to **** meaningless fetuses?
why are you reading this?
you can't beat this.
Eat this slowly trying to depleat this.
guess what?
everhing you've been reading is meaningless.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
Yes, I've had a kiss before,
But never a kiss like this.
Never a kiss, if you get the jist,
A kiss that gives me bliss.
Yes, I've had a kiss before,
But such a kiss I've missed
That jellies my bones and makes me this.
So, really I've not been kissed
From my chimney to my spout
All my senses steam about.
All the while love is in style,
I know nought but this beguile.
My walls tumble, boundaries crossed,
Wicked wiles, innocence lost.
Yes, I've had a kiss before,
But never a kiss to list
Till I gained from your two lips
A kiss that gives me bliss.
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 4:04 AM UTC
Brian, you’re so boring.
So you keep telling me.
Why can’t you be more spontaneous.
Did I or did I not bring you in a daffodil.
You brought in a dandelion.
Think of it as a gesture.
That’s what I mean, it's a token, now Mary's boyfriend robbed a bank to buy her a ring.
That's the guy who’s doing ten years.
That's besides the point.
So you want me to rob a bank for you.
No, I want you to be more like Tasman's boyfriend, he went on top of a moving truck with a banner saying, I love you Tasman. So romantic.
That was the guy who died when the truck went under a low bridge.
That’s not the point.
And another thing, at the funeral, why were your friends calling me Brent.
I was trying to make you sound sophisticated.
Oh you did that alright, Brian Crude became Brent Crude, your idiot friends thought it was hilarious.
Well, how the hell was I to know it was an oil company.
He thought to himself, you want something romantic, I’ll ****** well give you something romantic.
Why did you give me a giant Teddy bear? This is what I mean! Jist think for two seconds, will you.
Two days later
Erm. What's this?
If I didn't know better, I'd think that it's a letter.
Ha-ha. It's addressed to the teddy bear: "Only for teddy".
Well then you should give it to teddy.
Don't be silly, a stuffed animal can't read. And it's your hand writing.
Well I'm sorry but it's between me and Teddy.
#later that night while he was out, she just couldn't help herself.
"Dear Teddy,
I hope you're well. I'm sending you this letter because as we discussed earlier, I won't be home tonight. I wanted to make sure you'd take good care of my girl. Just remember, she likes:
- warm cuddles
- chocolate
- chick flicks
- long conversations
- kissed on the forehead
- roses
I knew you wouldn't be able to pick up some of the above so DHL is delivering the chocs, Eat Pray Love the movie and roses tonight. Be sure to be home at 8 pm.
I expect you to take your responsibilities seriously. One wrong cuddle can make her over think all night. I better not find her over thinking. You know how special she is to me.
Best regards,
Brent"
A Paul Gaffney& Lily Nurmi production.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
My songs can make you cry
Take you by surprise at the same time
Can make you dry your eyes with the same rhyme
Now what your seeing is a genius at work
Which to me isn't work
So its easy to misinterpret it at first
Cause when I speak its tongue and cheek
I'd yank my ******* teeth
Before I'd ever bite my tongue
I'd slice my gums!
Get struck by ******* lightning twice at once!
And die and come back as Vanilla Ice's son
And walk around the rest of my life
Spit on, and kicked and hit with ****
Every time I sung
Like R. Kelly as soon as Bump & Grind comes on
More pain inside of my brain
Than the eyes of a little girl
Inside of a plane
Aimed at the world trade
Standing on Ronnie's grave
Screaming at the sky
Till clouds gather,
It's Clyde Mathers and Bonnie Jade
And that's pretty much the jist of it
Parents are ****** but the kids love it
Nine millimetre heaters stashed with two-seaters with meat cleavers
I don't blame you I wouldn't let Hailie listen to me neither
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
So bad,
I want to impress you.
It sickens me
thinking of all
the ways I
put myself
up...
even in my humility
I'm trying to seem approachable.
wishing you
had witnessed
these highlights.
Not nearly so interesting
without commentary.
I fear
I won't be so free
to explain myself
without you
explaining me back.
Pinning me down
to get the jist.
Too familiar with my
angular hips
to pay mind
to a spirited mix.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC
It's ok, I've never heard of me either
I'm what's called 'back-up' in case a famous one loses its tether
You think the big man relies wholly on the ones that you've heard
They're just for the kiddies tales baby, don't be so absurd
There's Splodger, Spliffer, Ransack and me,
To name but a few with names that don't agree
There's Woody and Wobbler with Randy and Tiddler
You'll get the jist with the names that have been called here
All stood out the back after the main ones have been chosen and cleared
Kids don't want to hear of the ones who break all the rules
Sitting around all day stinking of their own stools
For this isn't the way of a tale to be told
If written in books then none would be sold
As I am the just the Reindeer waiting in the wings
Credit to Rudolph and the other ones who's names the children sing,
As I am happy to be just waiting here, stuck between the shadows
As time will tell if Rodney fits a story, that all will someday follow
JJB
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 6:59 PM UTC
Italeau...Fiamma--my brother wishes likewise that they'd fit.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDX)
Boots. Suede, Italian, and too small fr'intents,
My toes half bruised from jist one two-hour's scale
As twere of wearing, and lo, for the sale
Which netted me this lux'ry I've naught hence
Save yearning for that glor'ous pair which thence
Must be returned, prayrs for a pair t'avail
Me like these should have, with none in a frail
Excuse 'cept made-in-China boots' defense.
I only text YOU 'bout the size as t'were,
Nor know what YOUR opinion is, if YOU
Care two bits whether I've this pair in tour
Or that, just that Italian boots anew
"Run small." And um, "I wear size ten." But's poor,
Cuz I must foot the bill, with pennies too.
25Sep18b
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
I lost a friend
Somewhere in that land
Where sadness
Does not come to an end
Actually I lost two
Somewhere in that land
Where betrayal
Comes from a friend
I don't sleep
As I watch it grow
Hoping I can handle
That little creep
Telling me
I can sink back
Into that black hole
Who are you supposed to be?
As I expected everything was connected
And we were fighting
But I still stood united
By your sides
What a wicked thing
I did not forsee
All nights you'd gone
You had places to be
I was so wrong
Giving my trust for free
I've been through ****
You can't imagine the jist
But I've always
Blindly trusted
My friends
Now, instead
I watch it grow
And expand
Hoping I can handle
And withstand
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC