"labeld" poems
Is something you called me once.
Is it so bad that I thought it was-
Adorable as **** I hope it's not,
Because that sure would ****
We use to be closer,
I wish that we still were.
But you and I are in-
different, time-zones that is.
My self confidence has lowered,
Since we've become distanced.
It's true Thunder Lord,
Do you fear my existence?
I wonder if you do.
While you're up top,
Being Scooby-Dooby-Doo!
You know I have no clue.
I'm gig- gig- giggling so hard,
Right now. Who knew that this,
Scrub Lord could be such a clown?
I guess I knew, somewhere deep down.
I feel pretty silly writing all of this now.
After all you've labeld me.
Which I've done to you as well.
But it sure as hell wasn't easy.
I wrote this kind of fast.
Using memories from,
The past. A past that
Includes you in the cast.
I hope you don't mind me,
Spilling all of this out now.
I just didn't know how to say-
This stuff, it's kind of sacred.
Like a cow is to someone who-
Believes in Hinduism. Oh man,
I feel like I'm crossing some lines,
So I'll finish up, just give me time.
But it is true,
I do miss you.
And I wonder,
If you miss me to.
I don't care about what's happened.
Really, it's in the past now.
And I don't go there that often.
Just when I need to remember something.
So tell me ol' Voli?
Am I still your Annie?
I am being so cheesey.
Just say you'll support me.
And I promise I'll carry-
You.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
If I knew my life’s purpose
what’s in store?
what if is the question
can I ask one more?
If I knew what I was meant to do
I wouldnt waste time
If all I could fit everything I want to say
In one line
I wouldn’t waste so much paper
save one tree at a time.
what if I wasn’t born in India
And I wasn’t color blind
I was racist
eradicating natives,
What if I could read people’s mind
know their true motives
What if Gandhi was a soilder
Rather than a messenger of peace
what if british raj continued
we trying find the missing piece,
What if success
wasn’t measured by money in your bank
or the car you drove,
but by how much love
to and fro,
What if I never came to Canada
and the struggle added
nothing to my character,
what if I had more business sense
than talent,
If I had one wish
and I could save the planet,
what if i could tell
everybody
I have a nasal piercing
What if we can’t let
emotions overwhelm us
and hold the tears in,
if I wasn’t a needle in a haystack,
if there was a rewind button
on my life’s playback,
But no regrets
so how could I say that,
what if love was more
than a four letter word
if it really meant
something in today’s world
not mere limited to poems
writings on the greetings
what if you could back
it matching feelings
what if I couldn’t write this
just keep it in my mind
and wouldn’t be labeld selfish*
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 11:06 PM UTC
So if you knew i wear spike jewerly,
if you only knew how obnoxious i really am,
if you only knew the mistakes ive made,
if you only knew half the people i hang out with,
if you only knew the scars i show'd you,
how would you think of me?
If you only knew my grades, sports, and all the activities ive done,
if you only knew the times i've stood up for thoose people labeld as friends,
if you only knew the smiles upon my face,
how would you think of me?
So when i enter your sight i beg of you, no that would be a lie i expect you to not label me, because for all you know, i could be just as good,
or just as bad,
or even worse,
or even better,
than you.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
Yesterday I was told that I was air
inventive and cool to the touch
offering oxygen and ideas to breathless souls
All I was to you was sea sewage
forcing you to hold stale breath
gripping onto other
floating debris lovers
And I was a shark circling
waiting for the moment
your weak grip slipped
the last of dry flesh would sink under currant
and there I was reaching for your perfectly
rainbow arched feet
I pulled you deeper and deeper until
finally I let you slip back into a world
where gravity was your enemy
and I, left alone as a sea monster
for ***** divers to gape at
And here I am sifting through the sand
trying to find purpose for our salty memories
Do I bury them and hope they convert into nourishment for the
algae?
do I let them float to the surface and offer light to your pirate pals?
Do I string them like pearls and adorn the humpbacks?
I could stuff them into the fisherman's cages and
let them surface back up to you
to **** from crab claws
But alas, captain
Until I find a purpose for all of our ****** up
suffocating memories
I'll scoff at being labeld "air"
and harbor those haunting pieces of you
like the mossy skulls I lay with
at the bottom of this dark ocean
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
Perhaps it is easy
for those who have never been thrown in a tank and blasted
to say, “It is safe.”
But when you have seen them killed and buried in a
landfill under garbage bags labeld Biohazard;
when men, dressed in white, lock them up with their water-filled eyes; when you see her in the street wearing it which has caused torture/
And see the torture in their pores, pleasuring society, and see them
intoxicated in a garbage bag and crushed by machines in your mind;
when you have to take part of this torture, to earn a living, and see them sweating blood, and see them powdered up and powering down, and see their tortured lungs give up and collapse;
when you experience the torture first account, and notice no animal is
safe;
when they are deformed and become gruesome; when they are marked dead or eliminated
on the notepad in these men's pad folios
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC