Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
David Nelson Nov 2011
Space Cowboy

He said he was a Miller
but he carried a kow-kow calculator
see him on the street
he'd say hey I'll catch you later

from children of the future
a 10 gallon Stetson on his head
he could fly like an eagle
or cruise his Mercury blues instead

they say he took the money and ran
rumor was Junior saw it happen
yeah he and ***** Mae
boy did he need a good ***** slappin'

years later he was seen in swingtown
a joker jumpin' for jungle love
lost his golden key to the highway
hoping to find wild mountain honey above

c'mon and dance make some romance
bump bump bump on the steppin' stone
he left again on a big jet airliner
and never did answer his telephone

Gomer LePoet ....
a word play on the music of Stevie "Guitar" Miller
(An mémwa granfré an mwen Dodo, frè jimo a Roderik, ki disparèt an *** lanmè koté Sentlisi lé disèt maws démildisèt anbo kanno ay, In God we Troust, menm jou ti frè an mwen Toto fété swasantkatran ay)

Lè Manzè Frégat, on vyé zwazo épi tèt a sizo lan mè, rivé

Konpè Dodo té ka ba dé kudmachwa adan on ponm arak kon i té ni vyé labitid fè

Dépi lé i té ti manmay chak trwazyèm vandrèdi a mars o pipiri chantan

Sété on sèl pélrinaj pou y té pran gou a sé prèmyé ponm malaka ki té vinn friktifyé

Vyé zwazo la diy konsa: « chaben, apakonsa zafè ka fèt ! avan ou té sèvi kow, avan menm ou té comansé manjé plen vant aw, ou té dwèt ban mwen lajan an mwen, ban mwen sa anfwamenm »

Konpè Dodo pa enmé pon vyé zwazo diy pon vyé biten ! I wondi bouch, i toufé, i manké tranglé :

-Ki pawol a foumi fou ki la ? i taw ?

-i tan mwen. ban mwen lajan an mwen, man, ou alo, ranjé zafè aw byen pas dènyé vandrèdi aw rivé !

ou pé kriyéy jan ou vlé malaba, malaka, kwachimelon, otaheite, pomme d’amour, ponm tayti, manzana malaya, séw ki sav, ou pa papay

sé mwen ki mèt ay, ou tann ! Ou tann byen !? Pa fè mwen trapé dézod épiw

Pa fè mwen jiréw, avan ou ay pran zafè a moun prokiré sav ki moun ki mèt a kann la

mwen ja las jouwé domino épiw, kouté sa byen, wouvè gran zorey aw ! An ja diw sa, yo ka kriyé mwen an lot koté Jambo, Prensès Scisour Lanmè

mwen pa vlé sav si ou métodis si ou advantis si ou ka fè penti

si ou rosikrisyen si ou catolik ou si ou ka trasé lèt asi olivetti

si bon dyé aw vodou, endou, ou témwendjéova, fwa aw sé taw, tan mwen sé tan mwen,

Non an mwen pa Séza non an mwen pa Bondyé sé Jambo

ponm arak ta la sé tan mwen, sé awryè granpapa granpapa mwen ki té arawak

ki plantéy, si ou vlé sav, ban mwen diw on ti biten malgré vyé mannyé érétik ou ni dépi toupiti. ou ka ékri tout koté « In God we Troust » sé pousa ou dwèt ka vinn trousé mwen ! foutémwa likan, espèce de malélivé

manjé kénèt aw ou chenet aw ponmsitè aw fé sa ou vlé épi yo mé pa mannyé vyé pyé ponm arak an mwen

sa ja ka fè plis ki katvensètan ou ka fé la fèt asi pyé ponm arak ta la

Ou pa sa li fransé , chaben ? espèce en voie d’extinction! An ké diw li on lot fwa an nanglè si ou pa vlé tann fransé

Endangered species !

Mé Kompè Dodo pa té vlé tann march ! Kompè Dodo mété koy ri ! I pa té pé rété ! Telman i té ka ri i té ka pléré !

Ki jan i té kay péyé pou on ponm arak pou on vyé frégat malkadik, dapréy non ay té « Prinsès Scisour Lanmè »

Manzè Frégat ou ni on jan dapréw ou sé yen a dan lé trwa Moiw, on Manzé Atropos

Konsidiré séw ki mèt a bobiné é débobiné

Mé apa mwen ou ké kouyoné, sé pa jodi jou disèt mars pon vyé zonbi ké koupé filsèvolan mwen

Banw diw sa, Tiré gran zèl nwè aw anba la pli la é ay pozé kow anba on pyé kowosol

Demen samdi avan jou ouvè mwen ké vinn kué ti ponm arak an mwen

Manzè Fregat pa pèd tan, vitman i poté mannèv, i anki ouvè gran gèl ay, bèk ay té ka parèt sizo

I vorey i varéy i valéy, i wotéy – zyé a zwazo la té ka sanm on sèl fé dartifis woz fichyia –

A las siete y media de la mañana, eran las siete y media en punto de la mañana

Kompè Dodo bat dènyé ti domino ay, a las siete y media de la mañana

Manzè Frégat comansé ranjé tou dousman sé domino la an bwat a domino la

Epi rès a ponm arak la i préparé pouy on ponch ponm malaka.

Sé pa pou ayen ni on proverb ki ka i konsa:

Pa jen jouwé domino épi on frégat si ou ka dwouéy on biten.
ConnectHook Apr 2016
Wife-beater, drum player
blower of holy pan-pipes
Plumed, bejeweled in ****** plastic
Inca priest, mestizo beast
multi-kulti prophet
(who chooses to live in the USA)
where liberals kow-tow
while you show them how
to adulate indigenous
crypto misogynous
eager to pay eager to please
diversity’s devotees buy your CDs

a perfect idiot from the mythic Sierra
naming your brood after Andean peaks
pre-Columbian pachamama freaks
eat it up: your Inca schtick
(but ask the battered gringa-chick
about your unsustainable ways:
who hits who smiles who beats who pays ?)
(based on a true story)

♂∅☯✰☠
a  poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016
            ✿
www.connecthook.wordpress.com
            ☮
CJ M Aug 2015
I speak a thousand words in a glance, Propose to you in a text, generally be the guy I was meant to be.
And you still love me for me.
What is it that keeps you close to me? Is it my pretend swag? My book sense? My love of expression? My eyes? All of the above, or more likely, none? I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but I won’t concern myself with it.
I love you too, although I don’t say it much and I can’t assume you kow. But it’s true, I love you too much to let you go, do too much to consider having a way out of the ways that we love each other.
~signed the lover from afar.
just another entry in the poetry journal. I'm not sure if I submitted this before, but I doubt it.
Jennifer Beetz Jan 2019
what does little Ernest croon
in his death at afternoon?
(kow dow r 2 bul retoinis
wus de woids uf lil Oinis
I think this is hilarious, the obvious jab at Hemingway and especially his book (referred to on line alternately as a novel and also a non-fiction account) Death in the Afternoon.
In general I love criticism written by writers and the more scathing the better.
Some once called him a Grand Old Man,
Others called him a slime,
You couldn’t get a consensus that
Was even, all the time,
For some kow-towed to his money, while
Others fell by his sword,
His life was overall sunny, while
His victims quailed at his word.

He lorded it over his children,
He ruled their kids with ease,
A sullen look from beneath his brow
Would bring them to their knees,
His will was forever changing
As solicitors came and went,
One day he’d offer a mansion,
And another day, a tent.

When he finally died he was stony broke
And they wondered where it went,
He’d always been abstemious
But the money had been spent.
He left all their lives in ruins with
Their expectations gone,
A couple of ramshackle houses were
The only things they won.

There wasn’t the money to bury him
So they left him where he sat,
Up at the head of the table in
His black, beribboned hat,
He glared at them as he’d glared in life
One hand on the table-top,
Where he used to tap with his finger
As if it would never stop.

Tap-tap-tap on the table-top,
Tap-tap-tap it went,
His eyes bored into the back of your head
As if to say - Repent!
And people scurried, this way and that
To divine what the tartar meant,
The grim old man in his black top hat
Who ruled to their detriment.

They left him sat and they locked the door
Didn’t go back for a year,
Til the eldest, saying ‘let’s know for sure,’
Returned with a tinge of fear.
‘He might have stocks in his waistband there
Or shares hid under his shirt,
Or cash stuffed in his beribboned hat -
He treated us all like dirt!’

He ventured into the dining room
Where the grim old man still sat,
His eyes a-glare in the year long gloom
From under the brim of his hat.
But as the eldest approached him there
The finger began to tap,
A steady rap with a note of doom
That would curdle blood to sap.

So Toby dived to the tinder box
And he leapt up with the axe,
His face as pale as a ghostly tale
But determined to attack.
He raised the axe and he let it fall
Severed the finger there,
It skittered across the table top
As the old man fell from his chair.

The stocks were stuffed in the old man’s hat
The shares were stuffed in his sleeve,
And so much cash in his waistband that
They said, you wouldn’t believe.
But still he’s locked in that grey old house
For they found it wouldn’t stop,
That severed finger that skittered there
Still taps on the table-top!

David Lewis Paget
Dogfood Williams Jul 2013
I want to be
the next
Bu
Kow
Ski

and when I look in the mirror
I see my ****** face with a matching 'tude
the drink and the smoke in my mouth roll out
sending my lovers running
and I can't even see my **** over this paunch

I am the next Bukowski
Julie Loveless Jan 2012
Your love overwhelms me,

you look over my scars,

never at them,

how caring,

and understanding you are,

you don't tell me to cover them,

like everyone before,

you simply say,

i will kiss every one,

and that means everything to me,

no one has ever cared enough,

to get to kow me,

the way you do,

nobodys ever loved me,

the way that you do,

and everyday,

i think God i have you.
2010
blackbiird Jul 2019

I’m in love with you
And I don’t kow how to handle it.
All I know is that
I don’t want it to fade.

Francie Lynch Feb 2015
I ripped the curtains
Off the window,
Tore the carpet
Off the floor,
I kow what I am looking for.

I emptied cupboards
And sideboards,
Cleaned out the basement,
Checked my stores,
I know what I am looking for.

I searched the attic
And the shed,
Was it all
Just in my head?
I hear you,
Feel you,
Know you're here;
I know what I am looking for.
Yet Poe's one word keeps haunting me:
*Nevermore.
loss poe nevermore
dubious churning benevolent altruism

this anonymous beastie boy boilerplate endeavors:

(instagramming literary maven) questing user yawps

critically griping knowing personal tidbits xeroxed blithely,

freely jeopardized nuggets (revealed vital), zealously doled

heftily linkedin private treasure trove, (Xfiles breached

flagrant junction mandating righteous validating zero

divulgence heaves lamentable ploy, tellingly xing bald

felonious figurative joyriding, nonchalantly revealing

valuable (Ziegfeld bomb crackling) debacle, heralding

litigious proven, *******, basic foolhardy (Laurel) jack

knifed, networked, rapaciously villainous, zealously dubious,

horrendously lowball practices, thru (Cambridge Analytica)

xy zealots, asininely execrable, intolerantly malignant,

quintessentially ugly, yawningly dastardly, horrendously

lamentable, pathetically treasonous, xtra blameworthy,

fiendishly jawboning, mindlessly paradigm quaking,

unethical yahoo careless gross injustice jangling kow

towing, pleasing the Xmen, banefully Facebook friggin

jerky maliciously narcissistically opprobrious predacious

quisling underhandedly yo-yoing cello glomming kik off

preachiness spar!
Terry Jordan Sep 2019
He crows about his crowd size
For “winning” an election
While most of us experience
Democracy’s defection

donald knows no boundaries
His pants always on fire
Now numbers past 12 thousand
Show he’s a constant liar

Praising evil dictators
He thinks that we won’t notice
While kow-towing to putin
Our crazy shady potus

Earth’s life-supporting systems
Are collapsing day by day
Showing scorched Earth strategies
Daily through his EPA

Rolling regulations back
For Mother Earth’s protections
Defiling our National Parks
Drilling toxic injections

The Amazon is burning
Is any country helping?
The Earth is getting hotter
Too many glaciers melting

trump’s polluting our sandbox
Distracting us from the greed
In the frenzy of rollbacks…
his relentless Twitter feed

Maligning our Free Press
It’s clear for whom he’s rootin’
Eliminating sanctions
Against vladimir putin
A week away from the TV set
Is the normal world still there?
Or has the madman burned it down
On his latest crazy tear.

We miss the roundup on the news
It’s different every night.
The elephant’s still cry witch hunt
While the donkeys do what’s right.

He’s angered every friend we have.
He doesn’t know a thing.
He never gives a single thought
To what his antics bring.

He kow-tows to our enemies,
He’d like to be like them
And rule with no one saying ‘stop’
To his next crazy whim.

He’s going to light a world wide fire
The middle class in flames
The wealthy standing by to watch
Like they were seeing games.

Hated by the civil world
He couldn’t give a toss
He wants a place in history
No matter what the cost.

He is already number one
In White House Loser’s polls.
He hopes to guarantee his place
With armies of red trolls.

If we don’t  show him the door
He’ll do what he does best
He’ll lead this country into war
And we’ll die with the rest.
                         ljm
We had no access to the news for a week and this silliness was the result.
Festus Boamah May 2019
Knowing this fact is one thing!
Being conscious of the judgement day
Is also another thing!
Be identified by your deeds and acts
Then you know you are refined
And the judgement day becomes a lifestyle
When you kow this
And it defines you, you know!

Our shadow doesn't leave
When there is reflection of light
Our deeds goes with us
Where ever we go
Let it reflect our light (Christ)
It is not over
Until the Lord says it's over

Judgement has already begin!!!
Ken Pepiton Mar 6
{strange to feel so understood
strange that I am not alone}
{{https://hellopoetry.com/cielnoir/}}

Walking out of sleep, into
-- noonday sun
-- post atmospheric river
-- deep gray-purple days past
editreadyreaderprepresent-tensing

noise directed traffic, trending
psy-sci-psilliness dissing

ontological first thoughts, first
stretch, and last yawn,

seeing some connection from
former time to formations now
serving purposes proposed as ifs.

If duty calls us, and we have ears
discerning us as those called, hearers,

saying nothing, listening -
acknowledging life, itself, is not ours,
not experienced alone, ever, after we

agree to merge ourselves into me,
the leader, left-foot first, marching
ants selecting territory to sift for worth,
ax-el-
what good can I find to do, in response
to differentiation, feel the touch of other,
bump spring gentle
level speed to fills and tunnels

others, advisors, certified professional
advisors of the unfinished, unpolished

ones, you and me, creatures of literal

evanescence, perhaps never appearing,
glimpsed as in a zen riddle, popped
when a country kid asks who
tamed the bull… the ox

yes, I see, says the country kid,
I understand, you think oxen are
natural, that limits your wisdom.
-----------------
But of the tree of the knowledge
of good and evil,
thou shalt not eat of it:
for in the day that thou eatest thereof
thou shalt surely die.

Now, hear this, as a stranger in that garden.

Make up a mind that may as well imagine
having access to this single window lens,
in a fly's eye/

see me see you, sit tight. Bee, alright,
flea'ld be okeh by me, ye'll see,

what ever two or more of my kind agree, we be.
'pon acknowledging

the reality of energy, and us being, small,
upto a point.

We break the wave function and drift, pointless

reasons for the faith we take as granted, we think

we have a full portion, rationally, fair share, we think.

But few are free to find time to take words as power.

We agree we means primary person acting as one,
in the spirit form we form as we read, and write,

and hope to hold
the gentlest wind in our fists, as we expand
as breaths, and breathers, nameless alienated minds,

cohere, at once, each point possible,
once…

------------------


Old Jobe, and me,
we considered the works of God,
we saw all the noise and storming

contenders for worth of your loyal
adherence to a plan from a committee,

a party platform, from which leaders,
may stand and look into tomorrow's

victory over all wrong thinkers, leading
away from the best way for all of us,
we, the part-takers in policies of common
wealth taken from the losers to use

for the betterment of all mankind,
losers included, of course, abort no

unwanted child, let society eat them alive.

------------------

Rush to publish, shush nidicolous muse,
Peace awaits inpatient perfecting grace

- long form war, for goodness sake,
- so simple a child can participate,
- the game of life under standing
- constituted authorities established,
Under God, by God, and you
you,
good citizen had better believe we've
GOT GOD, and the entire dairy industry
on our right side, and our enemies,
on our left side, we are destined
to rule over, as gold over silver,

and plutonium ove' all.
Y'all'd know if I lied.
Some ideas are poison,
some are radioactively poisoning,

as life imitates art, foul miasmatics, sniff.

Uric acid industries, good side hustle,
set pots to **** in behind the pub,
public minds congregate to process,
fermented bread purified water,
into precursors for alchemists.

It was a profitable enterprize.
Vertical integration, however…

even then, there were regulators.

Identity, registered voter,
have you read your party's rules for us.

What must we hold true to trust
the committee of good for us reasoners?

Whereas, conjunctive fact fixer, that said,

It being the fact that; inasmuch as.
While at the same time.
While on the contrary…
------------------
Rushing to  betterment, settling
for plenty good enough, betting

on welfare shared by knowing users
of the tools we used
to build the channels of commerce
and learning used to make living easier

inventing means of exchange, symbolic
worth determinants, worth of cows
after…

blah… no mas.

---------------
measure for measure, reassure me,
nidicolous commiseration,
promi-sorry noted aliegiance
conserved determined formal
arrangement of shared woe and weal
- we authorize these changes, we think.
let us imagine, set an image of our wedom,
we… the ready readers granted all meaningful
words ever read by our massively parallel process

of gaining means to branch out and make shade.

Trees, Bees, Toads, Children

Who do I think we are,
who do you think I am,

what do we agree is true,
what do we do to prove it so?

If it is true, any it, we use it.
If it is not true, we see it so, because

we do not trust those ordained to lead.

-----------
Bring measure, come fair trade with me,
take my offering, think it linked to God,
the spirit entity historical Jesus called Father,

when he asked
forgiveness, as with all our debtors
debts, dissolved as gnosis knots
snot-nose brats can have
for a thank you, missed, to whoever
made truth the way life makes us take

at certain instances where signals merge

at a certain round-about in Montana,
we forget forgiveness generally given,
we take if as granted, as we should.

So… with no evil intended, good happens

for all who know not what
we are doing as we survive our helplessness,

and discern the order of effort and participation,

ruled by lines drawn long ago, proper and right,

my peace, my home place, my self assurance,

good by my own estimation, nothing missing,
nothing broken, all things, at scale working
together to gather the harvest, year after year.

-------------------------

Let us project an image we agree to see, knowing
we are showing what we hope to make you see,

a reason for your efforts to be joined to ours,
for your right to influence the rules we use

to keep enemies enemies and workers working…

---- Republican Evangelical shot across my bow

Quantifiable worth of one
person, weight of one person's wish
to willingly partake in persistent life,

life after all is said and done to come this far,

to have taken communication
from the Babel excuse for our misunderstanding,

to these days of Google Translate,
and Assisting Intelligence Coherency, here we be,

now, or never, as we must be to breathe
and have our being orbiting our normal ordinary star.

On the ball we all live on

some rule, some obey, say they who rule.

Those who rule themselves,
obey or stay beyond the reach
of proper societies, as such,

far from the maddened crowds,

herds of humanity harnessed
for war, for defense of local
wealth in terms of valued
conditions to which we become
accustomed, ordinarily following

the leader, as in the children's
games of emulation, marching
as to war

"With the cross of Jesus
going on before… glory, glory…"

Pied, perhaps, are we, on power.

We publically profess to all the world,
say those voting for Donald J. Trump:

We believe in American exceptionalism.

{eh, except ye believe, and say, I see, and
I agree, to this entity inviting all, except those
who are forbidden by religious ties, from knots

to hold yoke to cart or plow. Free souls,
lost in old bet you regret that nows

sould in spirit to a conception, love your enemy.

Refuse to partake in war, deserve no part
in the victor's loot.

Die in dispair, or let go, lose it all…

See the hand hold
a finger, or a toe.

Watch a babe locate a nose,
or an ear, or recognosticate

a familiar face, smiling.

We think, as common, completed
successful sprouts from random
spurts of natural gumption, urging us

reproduce, take pleasure, participate,

in using up our sources of sustained
existence atop the only gravitating thing
equipped to host us.

Chance, and timing, chaos in orderly

coordination with wind and water,
rare fair weather in early March,

beware the Ides, nay, not this year,

March, she came in like a lion,
dumping a whole winter's withheld snow,

at once, reminding many, we are very small.

Reminding few to thank foresighted good luck,

we chose to build upon actual rocks, solid
state soil free to consist as structure base,

for anything two or more of my kind, agree
to see as possible, seeing as believers do,

we must mean the rooting through the fruit

falling to become soil substance for next year.
be seed settled

Be not deceived, as a command, presupposes
reception, once,

be not deceived, many voices in the wilderness

cry this is the way to become lorded over, follow me.

Waveforms collapse, sometimes.

The principle of superposition
of waves states that
when two or more propagating waves
of the same type are incident
on the same point, the resultant amplitude
at that point is equal
to the vector sum
of the amplitudes
of the individual waves…

Slowslooo slide into home. Tune

to zero beat, co hear silence
unbelievable yet evident to any hearing it

as we exhale, in recognosis, this is that

state of mind,
combined,

we free spirit informants,

conforming ourselves to norms, imagined

before the concept of wave coherence formed
in the mind of man kind,
common access
general available knowing,

when, on earth,
as it must be in heaven, if we imagine happiness
constantly overriding common knowledge,
-stretching our hold on the joy of living
chirality insisting we not let our right hand know,
what our left is imagining in this outreaching way,

Beggar's banquets, ***'s rush, breathe

with first reason sought, breathe out,
breathe in, no idea

not a clue, nothing random, but this bubble
we have our being in,
as a liposome time bubble,
when we pause, to think about it….

--------------
In my seeding mind,
reseeding reason to rationalize,

worth and weight, in ancient terms,
57 something tons of silver's worth,

a single talent of silver, once mentioned,
for scale,

to make a warring spirit acknowledge truth,
bow and pay obeisance, kow-tow,
or bolt
upright, how now

may we intercede,
in the spirit of mere words,
redeemed to base value in moral terms deemed

ethical, under these circumstances,
we are free to think this line of thought bought
dearly with the patience taken

to make it all possible at all, what? me worry?
- you may laugh, but take no anxious thought.

We are most alien of all minds, sacred places,

signaling knowers to know, now, time is as a dream,
only if you maintain consciousness of that fact, as art.

Now, consider life a game.

Your move. My move. We agree, we become

one of these things in the form of Paul's God,
all's supreme being spirit form of Truth's Way

taken, as granted any willing to think, why not
me, the stranger in paradaise, asking whom

do we imagine wise,
as the serpent, while remaining harmless,
of no effect, ill or good, either real, or not.

At our we level, we laugh at me.
I become the first beggar in paradaise.
I think we think we know, we meet
at the mean

and we play the balancing Sisyphean
paen to Science of Light Amplification

you push my buttons, I pull your thread,

we make up a mind, to get past this.

This is Ken Pepiton, as he sat in the sun,
thinking of Van Gogh's ghucking sunhat
self portrait,

and laughing at having dropped my name,
where he left his hat.
To all the poets in bemusement.
BTW Apr 2023
Husband
23 April 2023

He walks in the room,  hello those there.
No disturbance,   relaxed happy mode.
Clean cut, nice suit,  cut  his hair.
Shoes polished,  pressed pants turning  old.

Offered a drink, was driving, soda please.
Music started  play, friends to dance.
Looked for  spouse to love and  tease.
Soon gave him that comfort glance.

Kids had grown, reputation sown.
Holidays soon to come, time to roam.
People wished them well, stay healthy, safe.
Clear he knew his place, showed in  his face.

End of night  near, time to leave.
Door opened, walked in  his neighbour.
Felt the ladies look, reach for  that  sleeve.
Somehow eyes always got their favor.

Was a man who carried a glow.
Considered by others icon of lust.
Conquests all  seemed to kow.
Made him  not one of us.

Husband wondered about his role.
Trying to keep wise and whole.
Another day wished  could seem,
Like that crazy time, last night’s dream.

Years ago had those offers.
Marriage kept him coffered.
Husband true as any known.
Always found love at home.
KorbydAngyle Dec 2020
We stumble into virtue as the
New year greens our potential lights
Then we stare chant hack
Betwixt sappy speeding steady
Legs
Slowly walking   is this fila beast
But now exoskeleton rungs of fur
Aim and denial at twelfth then ninth
All vows the first copper sheened window
4 falling deedle mort limbs
3 then finger apparatuses
Excuses cleaned sorrow's boiled jam masonry
Excuses always twisting ending not seeking
However! I've impacted the  fracas of stockade feelers
Such swords and  swaths, which? Spatha yet Scythe....
Yee who walk forsaken embrace
For together we might  bruise/ fall
They lunged spirits broad
Strikes!.... yet nothingness was more than air
Preclude to needless remorse
Folks of  instinct with witch
Each has a kiss is chaos
Cacks and Clubs Kow! Kazaam! Zaps and Chattle
Chains on Mice and Rust on Bottles
Then might and magic we may prevail or...?
Perhaps chance though little  for tail ?
Or simply contemptuous each day
Yet one day might appeal a contemporary write
All this is done of the thoughts
For a New Years night!
LibertyHX1511 Dec 2020
Cannot stop,
If I do
I could vanish in all the despair I try to hide
within all the doom I've created

I kow you want to say it's okay
to fall and reedem yourself
cannot let them see...my sadness
they mustn't perceive my failure
as it's everything I've become
overflowing, until the point I fall into an endless void

What haunts me
all those thoughts and worry
you are not here, I said
the tears captivating my skin
Those obscure ponds forming on the floor
It's the only life I've witnessed since then
maybe tomorrow, maybe in two days...probably never
perhaps I've just wasted time in silly dreams of alluring frame
these orbs will never be tamed
they don't have to though
as they have become all I've ever known

The forgotten has come... for me and my actions
it says:
"you poor, old and melancholic creature,
look at the mess,
lets go, you have made your best...
be aware that at times we must go
as we've transform into burdens of this world
how you feel...never accepted
embrace it once again and lose control of these human contours
smile a little as you have release a chain
you are partly free
now is up to you
to decide what you long for the succesive life
don´t be afraid, ceaseless possibilities enter..."

Nevertheless while these words try to bloom
inside,  my mind converts into a withering ruin
overused and tired
wondering... why can't you just take me
then I wouldn't be a bother
Swallow a solemn venom
and dissapear at last
free me from this human shell
erase the harm I have done
please, tell me how to disappaer

Suddenly it wakes me up,
storm off that somber look
perception is the only thing it'll set you free
this new chance you can create
life is giving you a moment
hurtful measures with hopeful outcomes
If you want happiness for them
and finally the peace you seek
remember what you were born with...

— The End —