"layman" poems
It's always been you!
If only you realized how much you mean to me,
Not a moment goes by when I don't stop to think about you,
Your peculiarity alone can do that,
And, that's always been you!
What makes you so special?
In layman terms,
You are my greatest strength
And, my greatest weakness.
The serenity in your halcyon heart,
The charisma of your captivating eyes,
The elegance in your illustrious smile,
The tenderness of your seductive lips,
The spark in your gentle touch,
The gracefulness of your alluring neck,
The radiance in your dazzling lustrous hair,
The lure of your hypnotizing heaving *****
The haven in your scintillating navel,
The holiness of your ravishing waist,
The sanctity of your fascinating hips,
The wickedness in your mesmerising curves,
For my hopes lie on,
The gateway to your heart,
That is now open,
Through the divine pathway in your sacred forest,
Filled with untold and concealed secrets,
And, mysteries unknown to man,
For I hope to touch, nurture and caress,
Every deep wall in you,
For you are the prayer to my appetite,
And, the incarnation of my desires,
It is now that I get the privilege of being a being,
To realize,
You complete me!
You are desire,
You are passion,
The inspiration for wanting more in life,
The personification of loving life itself.
The paragon of my eroticism,
And, not an end will there be,
For my ***** crave,
To be destroyed,
By the ****** dynamite you are.
An eternal pleasure in sensual misery you are,
And, a heaven in my hell,
The zenith of all climaxes,
And, the paradigm for my resurrection.
The yearning for the man in me,
You are!
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
There’s an assembly in the making
and the suits are all shuffling in for the big event
making way to their front row seats
****** in nose
hanky in hand
and all colorfully draped
in those cuffed pin stripes
and Jerry Garcia ties
*now what would the Grateful Dead
or any of their fine entourage
have to say about this foul routine?*
Apropos of that
they’re talking in the 3rd person
with tight syllables
and wavy hands
and all taking a run
at the state of the union
there’s Valentino
and Freddie
and good old Sal
"look....their fiddling with their nuts!"
cries a layman from the balcony seats
the Yin and the Yang
have got even the most liberal minded
scratching their heads
as questions fly in from the field:
*don’t you know the way it used to be?
have you no morals?
which way to the exit!?*
These front row fanatics
have surely been scrimmaging
in the corn fields
all down in that classic 3 point
watching their weight
with sample selections from the
Spicy House and Yaas Bazaar
as members of the congregation look on with envy
*pass the aperitif...the big ***** lady is on deck!*
Union heads are running rogue
loading up on grievances
and lines
passing files at a make shift pew
jumping the bunkers
and stepping on clams
while the orderlies move in
for governance
It’s a bewildered state
and only for the mind of the rigorous
Jimmy D would say:
“it’s nothing you pussy...to the victor goes the spoils!
everyone has a bit of good you know...
you just have to find it!"
Unrest is growing in the ranks
and the masses are unstable
Time to hammer down
with a formidable brace
and two tick play
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC
I must be floating somewhere in the fourth dimension.
I feel like I’m a formula in quantum mechanics:
Complex and misunderstood…
But if you know my concept well enough
I can be broken down into numbers and logarithms
That even a layman could understand
With a basic knowledge of math and science
Before he drops out of the university,
Because who has the patience
To simplify me?
You're the scientist and mathematician
Who disregarded imaginary numbers
Due to theoretical imperfections
Even if it was your thesis.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
procuring lexical polymorphism
synthesizing atypical signifier
playing blue album
awaiting tomorrow's celebrations
adding complex plugins
altering element content
watching office mascot
wheeling hue-named albums
undulating forest growth
pricing those yankees
finding layman's chaos
enjoying another victory
reviewing markup concepts
ditching error messages
enjoying relative obscurity
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
A bird lived its life lonely,
None came for its help,
It kept hunting for fruit pulp,
Considered relations and family unholy.
When its mother lived on difficulty,
Other relative birds, treated it a person of mediocrity,
Refused to follow generosity without partiality,
To keep them safe, pretended their incapacity.
Elder sister of the lonely bird kept threatening,
About the future inabilities and loneliness,
For a family life, kept telling it undeserving,
Told it would face disappointments without liveliness.
Life kept the lonely bird, lonely,
The bird never cared about it,
It had its mother with it,
Life went lively & happily.
Lonely bird had a fear in its thought,
What happens, in loneliness if I am caught?
It felt severe anguish and fear,
On occasions, its heart fell in tear!
Its elder sister, treated it with disrespect,
In spite of it being, an aspiring intellect,
Life of lonely bird remained downward,
It got itself ready for situations untoward.
The lonely bird kept struggling and thriving,
With its ambition and goals put its life driving,
Going remained really impossible & tough
The path to dream remained very rough.
Its fellow birds, remained happily settled,
For lonely bird, things looked to be tangled,
It was skilled, opportunities remained disabled,
With rejections, life continuously growled.
The lonely bird wanted to turn phenomenal,
Didn’t look out to happiness personal,
It did not have family,
In its wealth remained, being hit poorly.
Life went downward with pause,
It was on long term ambition and cause,
The bird turned itself a hungry beast,
To put it away from loneliness, at least.
If none is there, to take care,
I would die! I would die!
For a worldly mission, if I dare!
Of loneliness, I would never cry!
Elder sister of lonely bird threatened,
You were born a layman
Will die an orphan!
Because you are a madman!
The lonely bird, responded for it in life,
I was born a layman,
Will fight for my mission like a madman,
Will die always fighting world evils as a spearman.
There was ring! There was a ring!
It was named Bhagat Singh!
It told me life is lived on its own,
Others shoulders are used at time of funeral.
There was an alarm! There was an alarm!
The name was Abdul Kalam,
It told me Always be the unique you,
Even if world wants to change you everybody else.
Loneliness sometimes hit it like thorn,
Nothing could make it torn,
Through difficulties it was born,
It lived life to make this world adorn.
Loneliness turns out ubique,
I am not alone! I am not alone!
I am an unshakable stone,
I am unique! I am unique!
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
In between the hills lays a land of green green grass
Where the heavens made their love of life
And gods sung of such sight
Be the lands that they did fight for us
the green green grass
Oh green the land of warriors
The land we all do dwell
Green the grass the layman loves
True paradise be felt
In battle times and truces found the land did best
It could
Yet all of them who fought for us they knew and understood
The green land see found their place to die for
Poppy's blood
A land we wished we all could live
A world of peace and love
Oh green the land of warriors
The land we all do dwell
Green the grass the layman loves
True paradise be felt
Someday the land will fill our souls and peace will
Win the day
The green green land will be our rest god bless to all we pray
In those who fought so we could see the green green land this way
We praise and silence once a year
Remembrance
Poppy day
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
Poppy Day
In between the hills lays a land of green green grass
Where the heavens made their love of life
And gods sung of such sight
Be the lands that they did fight for us
the green green grass
Oh green the land of warriors
The land we all do dwell
Green the grass the layman loves
True paradise be felt
In battle times and truces found the land did best
It could
Yet all of them who fought for us they knew and understood
The green land see found their place to die for
Poppy's blood
A land we wished we all could live
A world of peace and love
Oh green the land of warriors
The land we all do dwell
Green the grass the layman loves
True paradise be felt
Someday the land will fill our souls and peace will
Win the day
The green green land will be our rest god bless to all we pray
In those who fought so we could see the green green land this way
We praise and silence once a year
Remembrance
Poppy day
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 3:26 AM UTC
In between the hills lays a land of green green grass
Where the heavens made their love of life
And gods sung of such sight
Be the lands that they did fight for us the green green grass
Oh green the land of warriors
The land we all do dwell
Green the grass the layman loves
True paradise be felt
In battle times and truces found the land did best it could
Yet all of them who fought for us they knew and understood
The green land see found their place to die for poppy's blood
A land we wished we all could live a world of peace and love
Oh green the land of warriors
The land we all do dwell
Green the grass the layman loves
True paradise be felt
Someday the land will fill our souls and peace will win the day
The green green land will be our rest god bless to all we pray
In those who fought so we could see the green green land this way
We praise and silence once a year remembrance poppy day
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 1:11 PM UTC
Its hard to believe to listen to
The sound of silence through layman's ears
For silence,an unestablished thought
Rides the young hearts only through fear.
Maturity, an understanding through beneath
Sediments like evils srata
For if you conquered,it only leads
To the sound of silence,every data.
For as we stare, me and words together,
Silence redeems through the pages
Every drop of ink forever
Can spell the words through all the ages.
The silence that lingers between
Begs me to hear it closer
Its trying to express the unwanted enclitic
The words that will fade never.
And now as i cherish this conversation of silence,
I realize that ink has a spirit
And to know the mistake i have committed
Which on my face like a bright light lit.
And to know the spectacular reason
I'm astonished myself, i must say
Ink helps us when we are not thinking
Flowing on paper without delay.
This sound of silence that i have gathered now,
Must be of great help all through my life
It will let me hear all those unsound-able things
And help me to decide when to stab a knife.
Through my youth scores, a bunch of thirty
Led me through a rugged terrain,
And now i want a plain surface with lots of pleasure
To lead a life, to be truly sane.
The sound is like a hand i want
Which helps me to walk in young years
Through the blasphemy, through humanism
It will strike away all my fears.
Does one realize that i said
The words of silence through every phase
The crumb of bread a beggar needs
The food of life heaven feeds?
They can't be realized by screaming though oceans,
They can't be realized by ending a story
For they are the curse of hearing unknown thoughts,
The sound of silence one and only.
My heart beats are frantic now,
As i have reached the harmonics of music,
Sweet and presentable they are now
Tapping your life like your feet.
They are many fellows who can't sing
So they make you suffer the sound of silence
With every teardrop longing for supper
Fighting their way through all the violence.
For those who have a great voice
It doesn't mean that they have to be proud,
For it may break any time
Like breaking a stone, like rumbling of clouds.
And i may not be an instrumentalist
And i may not be a teacher,
But i can stop the silence and let them hear music
And make them smile, not to suffer.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:24 AM UTC
the cardiologist, in passing, remarks, or perhaps,
“re-marks” my ECG test, casually revealing
that every fifteen or twenty or so of my regularly scheduled
hearts beats, an extra one sneaks it, which appears
unlike all the rest of those normative little hillocks
pointing skyward, ^ ^ ^ V ^ ^ ^ ^
yep that one,
sneaky ****** slips in, pointing downwards
like a class clown always disrupting classroom’s good order…
Doc reassures it don’t mean a thing
if you got that extra swing,
and our friendly informing internet reassures:
“The idea of your heartbeat going rogue may sound alarming.
But in most cases, an ectopic beat is a harmless condition.
It's also a common one”
but yet I am intrinsically intrigued,
oh yeah, that’s an intentional funny double entendre,
but methinks that explains
so much of my irregular, irreverent poetry scribbling,
particularly because this bratty beat be best addressed directly as:
“You Little Rogue!”
a highly scientific term,
taught in medical schools by non-poets,
but needy for definitions that the layman
can love and keep in their
heart shaped hands…
Nov 4, 2023
Nov 4, 2023 at 8:17 AM UTC
there are times
when the meaning
of a word
is asked
one that
has been read
and regurgitated
used regularly
correctly adopted
as part of
an apparent
well-read
or pretentious
vocabulary
however upon
being asked
its meaning
there is only
a blank
vacuous
addled
unable to provide
a succinct
or even literate
definition
to save face
to re-establish
the hubris
of this
abashed lexicologist
analogous alternatives
will be offered
oversimplified
synonyms
carrying a little
less gravitas
a layman's explanation
to maintain
position on his
self-congratulatory
podium
Oct 13, 2022
Oct 13, 2022 at 11:42 AM UTC
DURING THIS VISIT
I am a layman laid up
with a very dodgy ankle
that winced about Paris
for almost a week with
every footaghhhhhhhfall.
Now it's the A&E;
for me.
The electronic noticeboard
flashes up its what nots
faster than I
can scan.
I barely catch CQC
Good( shadow )Rating.
Two wheelchairs
(peopleless)
chat about the this of that
typical wheelchair chit-chat.
A portable X-ray machine
pretends to be a giraffe.
"oooooOOOOK...we are going to get
Geoff the Giraffe to have a look at that!"
The child smiles
through the pain.
The screen peppers me
with possibilities.
Extremely likely?
Neither Likely nor Unlikely?
Etc., etc., etc.
My mind opts for
a simple I Don't Know.
"Breast." says the screen."
"Max Fax & Orthodontics."
"Re-hab shouldn't be boring!"
A questionnaire asks me
to think.
Big mistake.
I start to think.
Pain & Boredom
turns these hospitalised facts
( what ever they mean? )
into a something only
my brain can understand.
"And now, straight in at No.!
with a fantastic new single it's...
...Max Fax & The Orthodontics
with the glorious bouncy
BREAST!"
"MORTALITY by
The Upper Quartile
falls down one place to
No. 2!"
My shadow is feeling
very poorly at this
instant
in time.
Hasn't even bothered
to turn up.
There goes my good
(shadow)rating.
I think I'll switch
to silhouette instead.
I practice my Ogham.
SAT 4 APRIL
says the clock.
It's hands joined
together in prayer.
I switch
off my mind &
float
down
stream.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
(I)
People used to light candles to ward off
prophesies such as this. Stopping, each
motherly representative, for 75 seconds
or less,
to tip match-spark to wax-thread
and hope for the best.
What ceremonial significance now
do we seek for to slow the approach
of what we know is waiting?
Oncoming march of death-knolls and unhappiness
bound up in silence
where
once we laughed uncensored at and for
the characters who spun throughout
this town, that school, the city, our lives.
All being, understandably, becomes
efficiently replaced with obvious simplicity.
From effortless performances
of what made our lives important
back in childhood years when living
was stable and guaranteed,
now to this mongrel era of constant migration
beckoning....
The familiar is no longer our youth’s
careless summer holidays.
The Familiar is now a land where
people don’t bother with any ideas
of an ideal existence beyond
what lottery tickets may bring.
Those who inhabit here are
more alerted to the purpose of lighting
coals in winter to shelter the children
and to keep the windows from cracking.
In summer find these same awaiting with
patient ears to heed any advice
which keeps them from going completely insane.
(II)
Go now, away
,begin
your quest, foolish schoolboy.
An entire adolescence’s
comeuppance is due.
Time now to seek recompense
for the years you waited
for anything significant to happen.
Time to seek girls with inviting eyes
and lilting vowels to offer favors to.
Abled with a catalogue of charmed
intoxicants. All softened by
a plentitude of weekdays waking
at three in the afternoon.
(Does “afternoon” exist in layman’s terms? Does
he simply made do with morning, day and night?)
Then on your flight make haste
to ensure your visit merely brief.
Like only one dimension of
your day-persona be a hawk
that delivers messages
back to the ivory towers of
new central HQ, while remaining
all cloak and whisper.
Messages from where people live
but no longer speak,
as result of an assigned sense
of failure,or complimentary
wrongdoings sought, what sorrow achieves.
Shattered lives, Ending dreams.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
Arthur dear, don’t fret.
Papers, papers, get your papers.
I have never been to the sea. I always wanted to go to the sea.
No, never since my husband died.
Oh aye, a sight to behold.
The rascals of Ballydrim out in force.
The maid peept out the window.
The fryar and the nun.
An old man is a bed full of bones.
Is he not, is it not, is it not?
Rose is red and rose is white.
New new nothing.
Row well ye mariners.
I have never seen the sea.
The pauper and the layman, the priest and the scoundrel, all moving
with intent.
Sometimes, fleetingly, never anything less.
Profound, very, yes dreadfully profound.
Labour in vaine.
In great concentric circles about the time your husband died.
Biting the bullets one by one, out on the green fields of Amerikay.
Interest rates climbing on the national stew fund. Spiralling into a new dawn of exoneration of traditional values.
Gracie did all those things and more.
And the quaker danced.
Rose is red and rose is red.
For judge and jury.
Very very far.
Quite near actually.
Further than strictly possible.
In all reason dear.
75 miles from the sea. Exactly.
And another.
And another.
AND another.
Drawing to a conclusion.
Bliss.
Seemingly.
Fleetingly.
(pause)
Have at thy coat old woman!
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
High up on the far back wall
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
is a constellation of dirt, chipped paint
and cobwebs
forming the shape
of a bear
lounging in a hammock
I have coworkers who insist
that it's a monkey,
trapped in a net
but they are wrong.
It's clearly a bear
Ursa Somniculosa,
or, as the layman may call it
the Little Napper
No matter where I am on the floor,
I can see him hanging there in his hammock
enjoying his perpetual vacation
maybe sipping on a nice tall beer
soaking up the sun -
not being a trapped monkey
like all of us down here
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC
Shirtless, barefoot, and
reeking of self-loathe;
he sat in silence
at the edge of his mattress.
Studying the black
lettering on the face of
the prescription bottle
through bloodshot eyes.
His name indicated in bold
just above the RX number.
Aloud he read the words
Amphetamine Salts
To the layman- adderall:
A quick fix for your
run of the mill 'screw-up'.
But to him it meant yet
another night without sleep.
One more night away from his demons.
Without the crippling nightmares;
The reoccurring remembrance
of events no longer (if even ever)
within his immediate control.
Glancing over at the clock-
counting quickly on fingers,
he’d figured it’d been about
sixty-four hours since his last sleep.
The lack of rest accompanied by
excessive alcohol consumption,
was making things hazy.
Days bled into one another.
His eyes started playing tricks.
Now sitting up straight,
he applied pressure to the
childproof lid, and twisted.
Plunging his fingers into the bottle,
removing two more pills,
he held them for a moment—
Then, with the help of a
flat, warm, beer swallowed
another twelve guaranteed
hours without sleep.
Laying back, legs hanging
off the edge of the bed
muscles aching,
stomach growling,
eyeballs burning;
content in knowing
he'd die before ever
facing that dream again.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
Layman's troubles, you fickle bode,
Who picks apart my breaths incentives,
And hastens my growing old.
Oh why can not you find
But one excuse to leave me,
For if the move was partnered
I'd grin and jump across the sea,
To find a locked up place to hide
Til' you decide to change your mind,
And sure you will,
You have before,
Then came with troubles new;
Searched, and found me hidden beneath the floor.
I hope some day you'll understand
My eyes of darkened shades,
And why they churn a fire burning,
Wishing you would end these days.
Only then will I choose to leap
Across the sea once more.
For a chance to walk on ground not burdened
By my troubles
That burn all open doors.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
the planets will align
every once in awhile
to arraign all who need
or are deserving of it
those who find themselves
treading the wrong path
those who can no longer
see what lies ahead
despite all those
gazing upwards
silently questioning
these immaterial messages
will be overlooked
unheeded by the majority
only recognised by the few
comprehended by even fewer
this singular occurrence
rare and rarefied
may be explainable
in its most basic sense
logistically
empirically
to even the layman
it is but a simple matter
of timings and orbits
calculations of gravity
versus mass and inertia
but that which truly matters
the universal push and pull
will leave even
the most discerning of minds
in the dark
Oct 31, 2023
Oct 31, 2023 at 3:25 PM UTC
We're loose associations.
Brutality queues the phrases.
Reality loses luster,
in fallow with boot to daisies .
Cowering and embracing
our trusted tomes,
honing a fruitless joke,
that only touches on tones that suit the layman
Famous and clueless faces.
Racing to rue the cadence.
Faking a sweet embrace,
for imminent tears, but grew impatient.
California coos
sooth impostor fits,
but it's a syndrome
fifty shades dense,
and way to thick to fit the staples.
In case you were getting wayward;
our guiding fables,
sentinels that they are,
will guard the stables
and bark orders,
pouring out the spirits
and clearing history,
with brazen logic.
Honestly,
I carved a broken heart,
instead of tapping the maple,
sue me.
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
the landscape is not painted with large words
in which you need a dictionary to assist in meaning
it is for the layman
the foreground doesn't lead way to a background
with a larger picture, full of insight and intrigue
it is for the layman
the colors are not pretty and all encompassing
they are dark and dreary much like the world you're inhabiting
it is for the layman
nothing is dressed up, made up, or made over
there's no makeup covering the flaws and imperfections
it is for the layman
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 1:54 PM UTC
“Hello World!”
said timid David,
wrapped in ecstasy.
“If I were to love you,
I would tell you of the flowers
That you would receive
Each February.
But, I’m sorry to admit,
That that’s not quite my bag.
I much prefer to tell you myself,
So the florist be ******
David wraps his arms around his arbitrary name.
Love is simple.
Why can’t peace be the same?
We must all ask why we take the sour cynicists into account.
How much can they really represent,
If they’re too busy ******* on my (your) rhetoric?
The layman would ask me to not use my own terminology,
But how can I explain this in terms other than the immortal that I hold dear?
Number 5, number 5, how you suit me so well.
You’re complete, but odd.
Estranged from his or her thoughts,
One must act with swift conduct.
I can’t imagine the consequence of a slower martial artist.
And thus, we make our way to the martial arts,
Dear Reader (that’s you, and I love you, very , very much).
But, let us ignore the subtleties of Tai Chi.
Because, I’m rather drunk, and couldn’t perform
Even if I really wanted to.
Actually, I don’t know that.
Neither do you.
This is my lament.
And my love.
Transcribed in simple English.
“Thank the Gods for *****
I yell, with complete sincerity!
This is newness,
Not like the monotony of burning Earth!
My tolerance is at a standstill.
Tolerance
Is what we use an excuse
To be less intoxicated that we actually are.
Toughness incarnate, isn’t it?
Dear Reader? (Much love, by the way.)
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 5:02 AM UTC
You as a layman
May never experience this
And it is most likely
You won't
But
If you ever catch on fire
Remember the three rules I speak of now
1.stop
Don't panic, realize your situation, and that you can be okay though calm, concerted effort, don't run! Running only creates oxygen to fuel the flame
2.drop
Fall to the floor, even the very act of being on the floor smothers whatever part of you that is burning that hits the floor. And it is necessary to be on the floor to achieve the most important lesson being taught within my words
3.telephone
Now that you are on the floor, pull out your telephone. Strike a pose, and take a selfie. Because for gods sake you are on fire, and you know that it can go viral. And really, dying by burning to death is worth it if you are able to entertain someone in doing so. Instagram will go crazy over you
And I suppose step four would be after you have a picture you like, then roll to put the fire out. But most people never make it this far.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 1:39 AM UTC
Resting in peace, here are those
Who have got, no self to loose
A silent aura, enshrouding this cemetery
Retires them, from life' s *****
What is it, that they want to tell us
Are they really left, or present among us
Whatever they will be doing, in their afterlife
Surely they shed their divine blessings, upon us
A layman writes this rhyme, while having a gaze at it
His heart will always be lit, by a light
Of respect, which everyone should follow, for their sakes too
As this is the ending, of every individual bit
|AB|
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
how do you know
what you know
isn't an illusion
or a hologram
or a ruse to them
& theirs
why I do declare,
********
I am ******* bored
with this
I've been here before,
but I've changed a bit.
I know my soul
must be ******* ancient
& has taken spaceships
to different places
you know, most
don't own the patience
for any explanation that ain't
ready-made, microwave
layman safe.
as for shakespeares
as for lennons,
maybe they'll get it
if they've mastered dissipation
if they're versed in manipulation
if they keep contained
indecipherable ranges of
insane visions
to which ignorance
is malignant,
if they're excitable &
strange & incandiferous.
if they have eyes in their brains
& are made of diamonds,
if they're kinda like,
sadomasochistic.
wait, you're gunna miss it.
when the inexpensive lynchmen
get bent up & purple faced
pinched pens & been up for days
cause they seen some ****
& ain't been quite the same since.
nevermind it, they lookin frigid.
this **** is ridiculous.
**** it, quiet
silent, silence,
sigh then.
keep calm
remain indifferent.
this **** is ridiculous.
listen, listen.
if you see me missing,
please report it to the police
******* themselves in the street,
cause it's easy, it's easy.
tell em I only speak in
secret spells & ******
but I know
some swears in dreamy.
the sleepy cellular subject
is defective, so ...
so be it, the pest shall be deleted
lest it spread disease
& eat up all the fleece,
then we'll all be cleaned -
no, not really.
the fiends are still fiending
the fields are still weeping
paint is still peeling
off walls
who couldn't talk
but were still breathing.
the truth is still
spooky ****
nightmare things
on inviting screens
& the teeth keep screaming.
maybe they're thinking.
about the end
... ?
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
Why do you have to take my only need?
Do I have to bleed down the river
for you to not see?
My corridors are filled with pain covered walls
and shock induced traumas.
Drowned emotions in cast iron tubs,
rust through my life
at the bottom of the ocean
I know not but temptation and contemplation,
it only bounces around inside
like a drug store explosion.
We start to walk down the
mirrored lined hallways the wrong way
I mean our eyes glare off
each other the wrong way.
I mean, "what in the **** am I trying to say?
You just don't get it, do you?
I mean, it goes right through you,
I think I may have a rusty
***** loose or maybe you do.
Your agony runs through my veins,
conversing memories, explaining nurseries and
even a midnight summer's wet dream.
So let me explain this to you,
in layman's terms,
the ****** broke a long
time ago..
but you seemed to have missed
your period and the point.
I know I am not only one,
I know about all the others.
I mean.
You bounced around those guy's mattresses
like you are on some gymnastic's trampoline.
Then come home late at night
like a ninja, like I wouldn't even see.
I am not a blind man walking around with a stick,
the true sinister gaze you gave me
is like sinister maze inside my brain.
But I solved this 300 piece puzzle
that you left on the nook
and I didn't even have to open the book.
I think it is time
to close this unbridged chapter in my life
with no unadulterated bookmarks
and bounce around to the end
where I know the words
which will make me a whole lot happier
and much more content
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC