"minesweeper" poems
(9-24-11 instrumental)
it takes 2 years to forget 6 years,
it takes 12 beers to forget your tears,
and it's those tears that flow so near,
this backyard that you hold so dear,
i held you here in better years,
i'd cheer you up, when i'd hear your fears,
the taste of beer and sky so clear
steer away now, it's in the rear,
view and that feels so cold,
i only see you through untagged photos,
youtubing high school talent shows,
or recitals, it's vital, that no one
actually knows, that i'm caught up
bought to get lost up,
another drink, another think,
i'm just a flawed ****
but i play it cool and act strong,
those other fools won't last long.
another sad song, i make it better,
got a new chick that's wetter cause
she aint afraid of that weather,
umbrellas discarded, in the bleachers,
teachers, gawking from the sidelines,
it's all fine, it's our time,
no need to dodge landmines...
call me minesweeper,
call me mindreader,
call me timekeeper,
call me justin bieber,
call me baby, baby baby,
call me jay-z, call me kanye,
call me all day, call me homewrecker,
call me and say i can do better,
call me about your sweater,
that's still at my place,
call me ghostface, call me action bronson,
call me hot one, call me ******* loser,
call me a waste of your time,
call me and say that this rhyme's, too simple,
call me jimmy kimmel, sarah silver-man.
i'm a better man, i'm business-man, i'm a gentle-man
i'm stan, writing this down in a crazy letter
no ink, self-mutilation and a feather,
better yet, i'm saying this outloud in the booth,
kick this rap game in the tooth with these red wing boots.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
sometimes it creeps into the bones in my knees and it gives me artist's arthritis
i massage myself with the dull point of a pencil,
listening to the soothing sound of my thoughts coming to life
and sometimes an idea will crawl into my ear and lay its eggs there
if my passion is warm enough, they are incubated on the inside of my skull and crack open without warning
and to clear my head of the leftover eggshells, i have to play minesweeper for days on end
wond'ring when my days will end
and if my poetry will still be breathing
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
I try to ask you how your day is going
but the bravery slips from my lips
and I am worried those are not the right words-
all I can muster up the courage to say is whats up?
I tip-toe around your emotions like this is minesweeper
waiting for any move I make to make you explode-
but it seems the only thing I'm sweeping is my mind
in an attempt to rack yours.
Am I yours anymore?
Because these days all seem to blend together
and I try to avoid the explosions
but they seem to come anyways
always hiding behind passive aggressions
and misread text messages
because you don't like texting
so I tend to keep quiet.
Try to stay silent as long as I possibly can
but with every good thing that happens I want to turn to you
and every bad thing, I want to run to you.
Is that a crime?
Am I a nuisance for sprinting to you with my issues
and am I naive for thinking
that you would welcome them with open arms.
I feel like this is high school again-
because I think that was the last time
I was actually scared to talk to someone..
See my heart beats out of my chest for you
but it seems everyday I am struggling
more and more to keep it beating less
because I am an anxiety ridden mess already
and not telling you about it makes it worse-
trying to make you understand makes it worse-
you not believing I can't control it makes it so much worse
and these things I wish I didn't go through
I ******* do
so why should I have to keep them from you?
BOOM.
Another bomb dropped at my feet
and all I can make out is the ringing in my ears
I'm so ******* tired of not being me..
I just warily wait in the corner for another explosion these days
and you keep telling me to talk to you
but the words come out muffled and I am flustered.
I'm not sure how to explain to you
if I can't over-explain it or make it a big deal
because these things, to me, are a big deal
I'M A ******* BIG DEAL!
I am the bomb ready to explode,
I am the snake in the grass nipping at your ankles-
I am the ******* 4am phone call crying for help.
And I am worth every single ******* star
in the entire universe because I shine just as bright
and provide you with a way out of your own darkness-
so ******* treat me as such.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
What am i supposed to do
When everything is too much
When the idea of getting out of bed
Sounds like the hardest thing of my life
I stand in front of the mirror
I need to wash my face
I need to brush my teeth
So why can't I?
Why does that feel impossible
What am i supposed to do
When my entire life is a game of minesweeper
Always one move away from game over
From an explosion
And when I say explosion I mean of emotion
Anger that shakes me to my core
Anger that makes it impossible to do anything
Anger that makes me yell at you
Even if you don't deserve it.
Or maybe it'll be sadness
Soul crushing heartbreaking sadness
Tears that won't stop until you are choking
Literally choking for air.
What am i supposed to do
When I can't seem to enjoy anything
When everything is lack luster
When everything is pointless.
What am i supposed to do?
What can I do?
nothing.
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 2:12 PM UTC
With smoke against the night sky,
Somehow I am the bad guy.
I walk around so uptight,
But still, I have these "laugh lines,"
On my face.
I don't know a place
Where I don't have to tip toe like
There's land mines.
I remember playing Minesweeper
And sneezing all the **** time.
All on my computer screen.
Allergic to the rules of things.
Allergic to reality.
I feel my family doubting me.
If sanguis est crassius quam aqua,
Then why do strangers lounge
With me,
And seem like they're so proud of me?
Well, actually in actuality,
That's just as false.
Guess I'm bound to see
The truth that's been
Surrounding me.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC