"joes" poems
appearances
appearances
appearances
we aren’t what
we seem,
are we?
but we are
what we seem
aren’t we?
how would
you know about
the drug-takers,
the child-rapists,
the murderers,
the doctors,
the racists,
the writers,
the sports-fan,
the obese,
the rage-filled,
the hateless,
if they didn’t
tell you?
what are they but
average joes
until they go
rob a bank
or
paint a master-
piece?
even
the very perfect,
like the president
or
your babysitter,
is probably hiding
something
maybe they’re
a *** addict
or a pill-popper
or a communist
but if you look
at them and
see a good little
child
or
a perfect
example of
human being
I highly
doubt that’s what
they really
are
I say this
simply because
people are not
perfect
but
society
refuses to let
them be their
misshapen
selves
so we hide it,
like all good
things,
and pretend
like we have no idea
what they’re talking
about
when somebody
makes fun
of our favorite
geeky tv
show
and that’s us
all appearances
all lies
all that we know
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 6:32 PM UTC
My skin has been itching for three months
I’m not sure why this is addicting
I’ve crashed a car in my head 3 times today
My mental awareness consistently letting go of the wheel
The Anterior teeth of my mouth have started to yellow in disapproval
I’m not sure why this is satisfying
I’ve been taking toxic psychotropics in light doses more than twice a day
It’s warmth is comforting as the jittering and hyperactivity become null
Bags have formed under my eyes
If you were to open them, their roasted smell would overpower you with stimulation
Constantly on my toes for risk of Insomnia and Narcolepsy
I’m not sure why this is outstanding
Adrenaline is being forcefully factored into my body
If this is the bullet, I’m biting it after an appliance pulls the trigger
As the high passes, it ripples through my mind
An otherwise calm sea, tidal waves pound the shores of my subconsciousness
Vacuum sealed can are filled with awareness
Sleep has become a rare odyssey
Warm comforters are replaced with long trachea trips of boiling beans
I’m not sure why this is alarming
Double trips become tripled and troubling to my mother
Arguments over the hours I shall harvest from the night are increasingly frequent
Slow to roll out of bed in the morning
I don’t hit my carpet, I splash into sugared preparedness
In my backpack hides a cup full of GI Joes
I’m not sure why this is troubling
If anything, I’m drinking a medicine that prevents death by 10-15% for 13 years
The New England Journal of Medicine was happy to acknowledge my existence
Till they announce anything different, you’ll find me taking a mud bath
I’m not sure why this is disgusting
Tell me everything that’s wrong with it
Because from where I’m standing
There is nothing wrong with
Coffee
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
I am a miner. The light burns blue.
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears
The earthen womb
Exudes from its dead boredom.
Black bat airs
Wrap me, raggy shawls,
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.
Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,
Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish----
Christ! They are panes of ice,
A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking
Its first communion out of my live toes.
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,
Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?
O embryo
Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean
In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.
Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses.
With soft rugs----
The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,
Let the mercuric
Atoms that ******* drip
Into the terrible well,
You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.
3.3k
In Loving Honor of Joseph Wulf
R.I.P.
Christi Michaels 8-31-2015
☆●♡●☆
Tonight my friend could not breathe
Lungs ravaged from long ago
Served our country as a young man
Shoulders, hip and leg bones
broke by the jungles below
A Harley Man through and through
JFD's became his Corps
Never wavered in his allegiance
to his country or his force
One of the smartest men
I have ever known
Could recite passages from long ago
abreast of topics from far and wide
a history buff so knowlegable
A brother to many, a father to one
Devoted to all he loved
A truer friend could not be had
So very popular he was!!
Joe was my protector
as I was a wild young thing
Was my confidant and
chaperone starting at just 17
Accompanied the first date with
my husband 30 years ago
Gave his blessings that first night~
To my children he was Uncle Joe
The older brother I never had.
Blessed to love him 40 years
My whole being trembles at the
thought of losing him
I weave Love within these tears
☆●●♡●●♡●●☆
~Christi Michaels~April 2015~
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
♡●♡●♡●♡ Ode to Joe ♡●♡●♡●♡
This poem was written upon Joe entering
Hospice. His sisters provided
Constant Vigil and Loving Care.
Joe passed on 8-15-2015
This was read at Joes Military Burial
Fort Snelling National Cemetery
Fort Snelling, Minnesota
8-31-2015
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
matt’s hats tom’s tools & tobacco lou’s liquors fred’s beds dale's doors frank’s planks bill’s drills jane’s drains & panes chuck’s check cashing cheryl’s barrels hank’s tanks tina’s trucks & tractors walt’s asphalt sean’s pawn rick’s rifles mom’s guns terry’s tires charlie’s harleys rhonda’s hondas jim’s rims art’s parts gus’s gas mike’s bikes frank’s feed gwen’s pens ann’s cans nancy’s nursery joes‘s clothes jess’s dresses bert’s skirts steve’s sleeves paul’s shawls michelle’s shells & bells al’s pails & snails sam’s hams & jams patty’s pancakes phil’s chili don’s donuts betty’s spaghetti bob’s burgers alycia’s quiches jean’s beans jerry’s berries anna’s bananas andy’s candies cathy’s taffies tony’s ponies roy’s toys ron’s batons kim’s whims marty’s parties jill’s pills rick’s tricks alice’s palace debbie’s disposal dave’s graves
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
"This is a song..."
"This is uhh, This is a new song..."
"It's through the eyes of one of the greatest people alive, I feel..."
"The Lunchlady"
[Laughing]
Woke up in the morning
Put on my new plastic glove
Served some reheated salisbury steak
With a little slice of love
Got no clue what the chicken *** pie is made of
Just know everything's doing fine
Down here in Lunchlady Land
Well I wear this net on my head
'Cause my red hair is fallin' out
I wear these brown orthopedic shoes
'Cause I got a bad case of the gout
I know you want seconds on the corndogs
But there's no reason to shout
Everybody gets enough food
Down here in Lunchlady Land
Well yesterday's meatloaf is today's sloppy joes
And my breath reeks of tuna
And there's lots of black hairs coming out of my nose
In Lunchlady Land your dreams come true
Clouds made of carrots and peas
Mountains built of shepherds pie
And rivers made of macaroni and cheese
But don't forget to return your trays
And try to ignore my gum disease
No student can escape the magic of Lunchlady Land
Hoagies & grinders, hoagies & grinders
Hoagies & grinders, hoagies & grinders
Navy beans, navy beans, navy beans
Hoagies & grinders, hoagies & grinders
Navy beans, navy beans
Meatloaf sandwich
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
Well I dreamt one morning
That I woke up to see
All the pepperoni pizza
Was a-looking at me
It screamed, why do you burn me
And serve me up cold
I said I got the spatula
Just do what you're told
Then the liver & onions
Started joining the fight
And the chocolate pudding
Pushed me with all its might
And the chop suey slapped me
And it kicked me in the head
It's called revenge Lunchlady
Said the garlic bread
I said what did I do
To make you all so mad
They said you got flabby arms
And your breath is bad
Then the green beans said
You better run and hide
But then my friend sloppy joe came
And joined my side
He said if it wasn't for the Lunchlady
The kids wouldn't eatcha
You should be shakin' her hand
And sayin' please to meet ya
She gives you a purpose
And she gives you a goal
You should be kissin' her feet
And kissin' her mole
Now all the angry foods
Just leave me alone
And we all live together
In a happy home
Thanks to
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
[Spoken]
Well me & sloppy joe got married
We got six kids and we're doing' just fine
Down in Lunchlady Land
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
The Circus gongs excite the Throngs in nighttime Never Land –
They swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
While Acrobats step pitapat above the shifting sands
And Lady Fat sits down to chat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the Band,
Ask crimson Clowns with frozen frowns, to hold a mutant hand,
While Tamers’ whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
Lure Cats entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents boast black-tusk contraband
To regiments of Sycophants who overflow the stands,
But No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night’s demise, the dither dies, the lonesome Crowd disbands,
Down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their tattered rags in strands,
And Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
To play a part in Three-Ring Art, I thought I’d try my hand –
I mastered skills, I felt the thrills, I breathed and seethed firsthand –
But destiny denied to me to taste a lifetime spanned
With tightrope walks and trapeze chalks ... excepting second-hand...
For alcohol provoked a fall, as if a reprimand,
And now, a heap, I sometimes keep the ticket office manned...
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Does part of your confusion?
Arise from the contusion?
Of that kiss so lovingly wrapped inside a fist?
Why hold back?
What’s pain?
Just black
A void
In which to switch!
We both know that you can’t touch me
In the fortress of my mind
For only I control the drawbridge
Vermin’s
More than often blind
squeak
squeak
squeak
*“Please let me in.
I have some wares to sell.
I’ll cross your palm with silver.
No secrets will I tell”*
Little mouse
Go away
Go back where you belong
We all know the germs you carry
We all know that they are wrong
YOU
Tout yourself as honest
YOU
Tout yourself as pure
But just beneath the surface
In the sewers
**YOU
DO LURE**
Lure the unsuspecting
Lure the barely formed
Punting pretence of perfection
Salivating salacious scorn
*“But … please Miss.
Hear me out.
You have me oh so wrong.
I'm just like all the other Joes.
Lost and all alone.
The mistake that I made was in telling you.
Thoughts inside my head.
On reflection.
Now.
I realise.
They were better off not said”*
Little louse
It is too late
For your motives are plain to see
Time to move on
Time to move out
Time to live out your sick fantasies ...
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 5:03 AM UTC
In Loving Memory
Joseph Wulf
R.I.P.
8-31-2015
☆●♡●☆
Tonight my friend could not
breathe. Lungs ravaged from
long ago. Served our country as a
young man. Shoulders, hip n' leg
bones broke by the jungles below.
A Harley Man through
and through.
JFD's became his Corps.
Never wavered in his allegiance
to his country or his force.
One of the smartest men
I have ever known.
Could recite passages from
long ago. Abreast of topics
from far and wide
a history buff so knowlegable.
A brother to many, a father to one.
Devoted to all he loved.
A truer friend could not be had
So very popular he was!!
Joe was my protector,
as I was a wild young thing.
Was my confidant and
chaperone starting at just 17.
Accompanied first date with
my husband 30 years ago.
Gave his blessings that first night~
To my children he was Uncle Joe.
The older brother I never had.
Blessed to love him 40 years.
My whole being trembles at the
thought of losing him.
I weave Love between these tears.
☆●♡●♡●☆
~Christi Michaels~April 2015~
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
☆●♡●☆ Ode to Joe ☆●♡●☆
This poem was written upon Joe
entering Hospice in April 2015.
His sisters provided
Constant Vigil and Loving Care.
Joe passed on 8-15-2015
This was read at Joes Military Burial
Fort Snelling National Cemetery
Fort Snelling, Minnesota
8-31-2015
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
Joe
Joe was a man in town that did pretty much of everything.
He was the sheriff, and the butcher, he hauls food to the neighbors.
Joe also was working on cars and trucks, pumped gas if you needed some.
Joe had an old tow truck, red in color to match the fire truck.
The tow truck was joes pride and joy.
He made money at the county fair.
He would be tow for miles around. But on race at the fair is where you would find old Joe
They say old Joe died the other day. Just days after he parked the old tow truck.
Joe the handy man.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
The first taste of Fall , with a slight nip in the air , reminds me of a five year old in his Astronaut gear ! Football helmet , pliers and hammer from Dads tool case ! Yellow raincoat and cowboy boots , outside the Eagle on Tranquility Base , Neil Armstrong exploring the creek beside the Mothership ...Home ..Crawdad matches , tadpoles , mud puppies , mantids , a few June Bugs with kite string tied to one leg ..Aggies , Immies , shooters and swirls , GI Joes , jack stones and wood gliders ....
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
The red car stopped on the arc of the hill at the corner of Corrupt Avenue and ******* Boulevard and let out a young woman with skin a dark brown hue who looked like life had hit her with everything including the bathroom commode.
"Thanks for the inks and the ride" said the dark brown woman as she got out of the red car.
"Red and green looks good on your skin. Can we keep doing *** for tattoos?" said the driver of the car. The dark brown woman took a peek under the shades she was wearing and said "Sure baby."
"I'll be seeing you Abby" said the man driving the red car.
"Yes you will" said Abby.
Abby turned her back to the man driving the red car and walked up the long stairs that led to a four storey brick building. As Abby walked up the stairs she got all types of stares from the people leaving the building. Abby made her way through the big glass doors and noticed an odor.
The smell was the smell of Marijuana. Abby followed the odor to the office of Willie Dun. As Abby entered Willie's office she saw him sitting on his desk with a blunt in his left hand and a liquor bottle in his right hand.
"Abby, baby what took you so long?" asked Willie Dun as he put the blunt to his mouth. Abby took the liquor bottle out of Willie's hand and put it to her lips and took two sips. As Abby took off her white shirt she put the bottle back to her lips taking one last sip.
"I was getting tattoos. What do you think?" asked Abby.
"Nice art work. The reason I called you here is because I want you to help me with my campaign. I'm running for Governor. You have a lot of pull in the streets. Are you still a resident of ***** Alley?" said Willie Dun.
"Yes, but I'll only sign my name on your campaign trail if you help me move out of ***** Alley" said Abby.
"Ok Abby where would you like to move?" asked Willie as he took the liquor bottle out of Abby's hand.
"East Ecstasy Street" answered Abby.
"I can make that happen. With you on my team I'll have the average Joes votes for sure" said Willi Dun.
written by Keith Edward Baucum
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
A milk and two sugars
Coffee in a cup
Add the water
Inhale some steam
A hit of caffeine
To start the day
It keeps me awake
So I can play
A cold frosty morning
I require some warmth
The kettle is boiling
It's time for a cuppa
Joes in demand
He lives in a ***
Classed as my best friend
He's all that I've got
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 10:22 AM UTC
DaLing, DaLing, DaLing, DaLing
As I lay out on the warm wooden dock
Old Saint Joes crows fabricate a path of emotions upwelling
Sun’s rays prance along my shoulders in tune with the killjoy clock
The Fox whispers wisdom through the wooden panels that separate the two bodies
Little did I know, on that September day, there was little to be learned from this outrageously priced text with pages yet to be broken in, when compared to experience and growing up that year.
All my past, present, and future troubles and tears, flaws and fears, aspirations and anxieties
The Clock knew them all. The Fox knew them all, but to me unclear.
Somewhere between orientation and my final final exam of freshman year, through my social-butterfly-syndrome and college boys, the parties and the beer--
I, a lost sheep, was found on that dock in De Pere.
May 5, 2011
May 5, 2011 at 5:14 PM UTC
Do you know the feeling of holding on to abstract ideas?
Hot and abysmal
Whimsical fears
Dry and unenchanting miserable years?
Do you?
Or do you know the road of normal hopes,
Overpasses and classy folk,
Cheap sunglasses and average Joes?
Do you know those things?
Or does light bring dimmer views
Shadows of doubt cast around
A darker, livid hue
If someone had to die,
Would it be him or you
Or would you simply choose to escape and sing a hymn or two?
See forgiveness doesn't come to those who ask, ask anyone
Even me,
I have asked you plenty ones.
In hindsight, you will see
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
Joes in bed the stars are out
the tv turned down low
as I await the zombie hordes
upon my favourite show
The walking dead don't frighten me
they'd never get past him
coz no one hurts his grand dad see
no Jack nor John nor Jim
so Joes in bed the hour is late
the moon is high or' head
so I will bid you all goodnight
I'm watching The Walking Dead
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
We are the jagged jigsaw puzzles with the missing pieces
The Barbie dolls that can only see themselves in fun house mirrors
The G.I Joes that only want to wear pink
The puppets that pull against their strings
The dream houses in the ghetto
We are the paper air planes that struggle to fly straight
The deck of cards with the pycho 8s
We are the toys in the box that everybody hates
We slip through the cracks in the careless fingers of young boys and girls
We are the gifts at Christmas that did not make the list
We are the birthday rejects
The easy to forget
The clutter underneath your bed
We are veterans of every garage sale, donation pile, and trash bin
For all you want is to be rid of us
So we'll go
We'll run away to candy land and snort pixie sticks looking for a sugar high
We'll stop comparing ourselves to other toys
We'll laugh with each other
And for the first time in our lives
We'll play.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
Listening to
A Youtube series
On the history of China
Starts in Imperial China
During the days of the warlords
China looked to Russia
To help them drive out
The warlords
And in exchange
Chinese communists would
Be accepted
The nationalists
And Communists
Worked together
To overthrow the warlords
I had a bowl of oatmeal
Small oranges
And Trader Joes
Honey Nut O's
I don't work that much
I'm poor
And happy to be that way
No plans to
Move out
Or to pay rent
I'm going to do
Exactly as I please
If they try to kick me out
I will stay at the park
I have a house key
But they would never
Do that
Because I help out
Too much here
Besides these people
Will need my help
In their old age
I like to study China
And Russia
I figure one
Or both of these countries
Will attack America
One day
Fun to learn about them
I live near the mountains
I like the mountains
A day with my friends
I had recently
It reminded me how much
I miss them
And how much time
I spend alone
I enjoy podcasts
And documentaries
I've never had ***
I dream about
Beautiful caring women
Their hair adorned
With Lilacs
And daffodils
Their sweet scented
Honeysuckle
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
some where in my house sits a cute little monster
in dragon like pose
on top of his purlioned
and just found lying around,
trove of treasure.
fifty seven odd socks
(i counted the others)
and three pair to boot shoelaces and metres of string
an inch of fragrant ginger root
a tie patterned cleverly with clowns
a beĺl that swallowed it's ding
used tissues galore
fifteen duplo men,
in various stages
three circus lions sans,
their cages
a sherrifs badge
about ten dollars roughly,
in loose change
a tiny baby dulldozer,
to shift it all about silverware, cottonbuds, lipsticks,
hundreds of chinese takeaway chops sticks
mr potato head's nose,
a squad of g.i joes
a ping pong ball that
has lost it's zing
a ring of keys for,
no longer locks
pencils, crayons, texta pens
all in a woodwork,
pencil box.
now this monster is cute
and he is twee
he loves all his treasures with cheery equanimity fussing and fixing
his stash he wanders about just out of sight
looking to add to his *****
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
I got my mind on my money and my money on my mind but no matter where I go I see them same old hoes
BRING DA BEAT
c’mon, c’mon, c’mon
HERE WE GO
YEA! YEA! YEA!
They be warin old clothes, exposin them busted *** toez
in fishnet pantyhose
They be standin in rowz, striking that silly old pose,
workin them same two Joes
So the rumor grows, and everybody knows, that her name is Rose,
we know Rose blows
DOUBLE BUBBLE, BUBBLE TROUBLE,
YEA ! YEA! YEA!
She got fired from LoweZ, ’cause she stole a garden hose,
spent all the money at Moe’Z
Yea - Moe’Z ** clothes and fishnet hose, down at 52nd and StrowZ, traffic really slows when she bends to expose, she get dirt on them knees, when she blows
DOUBLE BUBBLE, BUBBLE TROUBLE
YEA! YEA! YEA!
AND THE COP SHOWZ
UP, UP, UP, EVER’BODY UP,
C’MON UP
C’MON UP
YEA! YEA! YEA!
She putz the powder up her nose, didn’t pay the fine she owez,
gives a discount to the bros
Ever’body froze, then the streetlight glows, that’z the way it goes,
for all them bimboz
Same for the hoes, az it is for the bros, all the way from Melrose,
to the Chicagos
And it’s still the same for the Souix and them Navahos,
UH? YEA! UH? YEA!
SHOUT OUT TO ALL MY PEEPZ IN THE POCONOS
YEA! YEA! YEA!
I’M OUT…
OUT ROLLLLLLLLLLIN’ ON THAT 8 MILE ROOOOAAAAD
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
Beautiful my Friends
Sweetly together
Shopping the Isles of Joes,
Like it was your best date yet
We knew each other
Except we didn't
You knew me , of course..
For all the looking
that we spend time on
ROWW perhaps, Agraced Up agates Love
Another
Friend
I am Yours
No Mystery here
Nor deployment
Robe made
Sweet friendship
Hellos in the World
Sweet Hellos
Blind Partaking
For Favor Recognizable
You Love
Spoken Dimension
In the Eyes
Do not Seek
But Rather Know
Dispel Shyness
Costly Maiden Sure
Set Feather
To the Breeze
Once again
Love
Once again
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Chewing the hard burnt bits of cheese off of frozen pizza
I am soft, I am light, I am not giving a single **** about the extra calories I'm consuming at 3 AM.
Ellios.
But from the hospital my mother works at,
must have been reheated a few times now.
I don't ******* care. It's food.
And here I am. Alone in my bed.
Listening to Russian Circles and hoping
it'll help me write something actually worth sharing for once.
Eh, I'd rather not take myself so.
I like a few guys.
I like a girl very much.
I'm starting a new job.
I'm scared of what's to come.
I'm scared of disappointing everyone.
I'm an ellios pizza stowed away as leftovers, a midnight snack.
Hoping to be worthy of praise.
Sprinkled in trader joes seasoning. I'm just so special.
I'm tasty but I'm so much more than I seem.
Cook me in the oven, if you want me crispy.
I cure hangovers.
Just with my fingertips, I promise.
Sleep with me, and see.
You'll see that I'm honest.
You'll be there in the morning.
I might decide to take a hike.
Don't ask me to stay. You don't ever mean that.
I'm fine admiring myself in my frontal camera,
on a lyft ride back home with dancehall music in the background.
I'm worth so much of my own praise that I forget to text you back.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 2:45 AM UTC
Everywhere you go
You see the same hoes
Throwing up deuce signs
And showing bra and ***** holes
*** shots galore
Posing on the floor
By an opened door
Thinking they a star
When they average joes
Hoes come in many fashions
No color bashing just blasting
All these fakes
Sitting on social media
Ain't got nothing in they names
But an account
And few followers for the fame
Internet celebrities
At best they say I'm hatin?
How humpty you getting played see
By the industry
Thinking you a women
But really a ***** day n night
Like Al B Sure
Don't get upset with me
Cuz of the choices you
Made in society in reality
Real women seek goals
And girls seek attention
So break that spiritual prism
You mored fused than a religions
Mixed with a bunch of ***** n *****
And at they same time
You at church making confessions n ****
Bet you thinking God smilin cuz of yo wilding
Sit down darling you startling
My words be sticking you like Marlin
Pardon me
I can't help but to expose the truth
Light upon the darkness
Grazin yo temples
Stop being simple and replica of Thot Central
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC
My mothers love I never knew.
Her affection was cold and pale blue.
My thorny heart was born to sin.
In creek water, I'm born again.
A pack of joes, a fith of gin,
I follow ghosts of what could've been.
Ive seen the sun pass through the. moon
In every town, I start again.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 11:05 PM UTC
They stay vigil, ever waiting the new design of sigils.
Kinda simple, keep their fingers pressed to pimples,
The pus a pit of petered parts,
Perceived by the reckoning of depleted hearts.
I rushed the doors at the sound of a great escape,
The process a repeat coordination of hurry up and wait.
Ever balking at the atrocities of cost,
Average Joes chasing dreams at the velocity of sloths.
How to be content with immense disparity?
Hands out faking quivers, shaking for some charity.
Forsaken someones somewhere surviving on a sliver,
Watching all the getters, I see myself a giver.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 8:32 PM UTC