"misconduct" poems
she is
a very naughty girl
she never follows
policy to the letter
she always
does the wrong thing
she needs some discipline
she's proficient
at defying the law
she knows not how
to get the message
she doesn't
listen intently enough
she fills many charge sheets
with her misconduct
she is a girl
with a streak of wickedness
she has all the hallmarks
of someone who is naughty
I speak of Ursula
in the above list of bad deeds
and there is a hope
that her bad deeds
can be quickly remedied
the hand of an authority figure
will bring her back into line
as she has too often
strayed from that line
whence appropriate corrections
are implemented
all her behavioral problems
shall be circumvented
then and only then
a change will eventuate
and she'll no longer
be showing her bad traits
really naughty girls
such as Ursula
can become more like
a pleasant seaside peninsula
watching her radical transformation
shall be a sight to see
so we'll keep our eyes focused
on what Ursula shall soon be
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
My bedroom is my prison.
I am locked up with high surveillance.
My guards watching my every move,
yet somehow they see nothing.
A place where misconduct is common,
although the boss never sees.
A cold, harsh feeling always present.
Marks on the wall counting the days until i'm free.
My bedroom is my prison.
And there is no escaping until i'm out.
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 6:30 PM UTC
Starvation.
First and foremost
The plot thickens and the atmosphere is beyond any thunderstorm.
The forecast was predicted before the growling began.
Bellies ****** in not by choice.
Now misconduct fills the void .
I'm starving
He's starving
She's starving
The people are ready to run a mock
Have you ever witness ***** in a bucket, they fight relentlessly to get out until they tire.
Have you ever witness a person eating mud patties to ease the hunger pains, I'm talking about the real hunger games.
Shortcomings is starvation
Starvation of:
Attention
Food
Education
Clothing
Electronics
Transportation
***
Hugs
Love
Fathers
Mothers
Family
Yet, politicians act like they don't know what I am talking about .
And beanstalk will never grow if beans were handed out.
Give the people jobs that match America's cost of living.
I can hear bankers & corporation whispering blasphemy .
What does it really mean to live among the living when you are the walking dead......
We want flesh.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
The weak inherit the Earth
The meek inherit their lead
Unaware of their life's worth
Until after they're dead
We are hopelessly trampled by a bullet stampede
Inflicted upon us for the wealthy man's greed
They sell us death as a commodity
While we can only mourn solemnly
They are arms dealers
We are harm feelers
They are life stealers
When we can't find healers
For the fatal wounds that end our lives so abruptly
And the man with the gun has no need to trust me
He has placed his faith in Ares
His humanity he failed to carry
He sold it urgently to feel secure
But then his thoughts became impure
For whatever reason he cast a death sentence
He felt injustice and wanted to get vengeance
But to the merchants of wrath
He is just math
Numbers on a graph
They must minimize
With blatant lies
Businessmen will try to create a need for their product
But engendering fear for profit seems like misconduct
Because as the bullets are raining
And the militants are training
Their money is stacking
While terrorists are attacking
Their nature seems callous
When they rely on our malice
They see us as a body count
They see us as simple trout
Swimming upstream to die
So they can eat us
Convincing us we'll fly
With minds of a fetus
The bullet burns as it punctures our civilization
It fuels our bitter spiteful incubation
We sit in the chamber
As they utilize our anger
The rich get richer
We don't see the picture
When gunshots scatter crowds
And the echoes scatter our thoughts
They want the volume to be loud
So we'll forget what we're taught
That our lives are the price of a gun and a bullet
Our paranoid lives become hard to live to the fullest
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC
Five for fighting
hands to the face
personal foul
player disgrace
Illegal contact
leap in the fray
willful head shot
leg astray
Encroachment defense
mouth guard out
roughing the passer
back field bout
Grounding the pigskin
mis-aligned
horse collar tackle
clip from behind
Knee on knee
offside end
unnecessary roughness
too many men
Gross misconduct
poke in the eye
hooking the shooter
sticks up high
Match ejection
over the top
face off folly
penalty shot
Unsportsmanlike conduct
chopping the block
slew foot infraction
hammer lock
Stick to the head
kick in the crotch
**** end jab
adhering the watch
Slashing the d-man
spearing the wing
running the keeper
back checking
Intentional grounding
stoppage in play
punching and hacking
delay of the game
Striking the ref
aggressor in fight
obstructing the line out
ear in a bite
Loss of downs
hands in the ruck
pinching and boarding
illegal upchuck
Rules of the battle
by the bye
pushing the limits
with a wink of an eye
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
"I got them old bones man"
There shakin’
And there rattlin’
These demons
I’m battlin’
Time
Is unraveled in
Sin, desperation, disbelief
Misconduct and mischief
Stretching
Feels like a prison camp
For old men
Where all those old men do
Is stretch
My body is a concern as my mind
wanders,
And ponders,
And potentially acts, on
large acts of
greatness
and I bear witness
to future bewilderment
that has already past
but lingers,
and fingers,
the ******* blame
on my ***
I wanna live a life of positive affirmations
That’s what I feel is happenin’ you know what im’ sayin
And I keep playin
Games I love and things that I believe
Goals not yet not accomplished
And new one’s I wanna achieve
And a New year brings new things
Don’t break your dreams
Don’t undervalue and don’t leave
Places you don’t want to be
Don’t be a double negative
Take advantages of openings and opportunities
Don’t be a hypocrite and you will completely agree
All those good things
Your gonna do more of in a new year
No matter how niave, egocentric or misadvised…
… in someone else’s eyes
Have no fear
share your gifts
and create your gifts
don’t buy them,
and if you buy them
don’t buy them at walmart
or in malls or in big cities
Everything I ever wish to write
Is an anthem to change the world
And the revolution starts
As soon as I change
As soon as I arrange my priorities
**** the majority
Start a brother/sister sorority,
And I will put down this beer,
Quit a job that doesn’t matter
And put my energy
Into passions and emergencies
And change the world
By meditating
Saying some kind words about myself
With my eyes closed
While deeply breathing
And exploring galaxies with ease
The entire universe…
… I think I Am going back to university
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
sometimes I find
poems by accident:
I trip over them in the shower or at the bottom
of the stairs and I
apologize for my misconduct but
what the **** were they doing there Im not
supposed to be inspired
by yearsold graffiti or
words scratched into
bathroom stalls or
in the dulcet tones
of the woman on the other end of the
payphone that ate up my dollar fifty
stop ******* the sleep out
of my eyes scratching at
the scrabbleplaying part of my mind that
wants to steal other people’s words and
dress them with the playclothes of
my fiveyearold daughter
why the **** is it
that when I see strangers at the coffeeshop I can’t
just let them be strangers anymore
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 11:17 PM UTC
There are players in the penalty box that don't belong
Because the refs start tripping
When people skate on thin ice
But they're not fighting
Or slashing
The winning team keeps them down by charging them
Until some go to the box just for boarding
And that's only the icing
It's difficult to not misconduct yourself during this game
When the score is ran up
By a team with a wall for a goalie
And a rifle for a stick
They score when we hit the post
Yet we're penalized for trying to achieve our goals
Forcing us to defend
As they shoot at us
For being on a different team
We need to make a power play
And **** some penalties
Don't fear too many men on the ice
The gloves come off but it's futile
The refs never wore gloves to begin with
And apparently don't need them the way I do
I sit on the bench in defeat
Praying they have a ****** overtime
Because right now
In the time of regulation
We're stuck on ice
As the scoreboard hangs out of reach above us
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
First, let’s talk about some of the lies
Uttered by the nefarious and unwise
Of a peculiar type of mindless insanity
Created and backed by the inanity
Of the Madison Avenue careerists
And hordes of conspiracy theorists
Who have taken the issue of a ****
And buried it in misconduct and greed.
It is important not to fall for the joke
That it is quite all right to smoke
Because smoking anything you pass
A dose of something called cyanic gas
Into your lungs, and perhaps minimal,
It’s the gas they use to execute criminals.
But, other uses for this homegrown stuff
Can help people whose lives are tough.
But the whole shooting match is a dodge
Started out by rich men in their fancy lodge
Fueled by ignorance and false piety
Written into law by a strangers to sobriety
That somehow had no problem with drinking
But thought being ****** was stinking thinking.
So they created movies and legends galore.
But repression is all the lies were ever for.
(There’s an old joke about a boss’s decree
About employees drinking ***** daily.
He issued the rule on the smell-free *****
That was drunk at lunch time by his crews,
Because he didn’t want customers hazy
Thinking his employees were going crazy.
He preferred they know they were inebriated
Rather than a staff full of the grossly pixilated.)
It was that kind of thinking that created
A fervor that up until today has not abated,
That named an easily grown garden plant
Into some kind of major anti-opium rant,
While opiates are endorsed by the AMA.
And hundreds of versions are here today
To cure the same ailments as cannabis
Without the side effects that are a nemesis.
Medical science is finally ignoring
A sacred cow that needed goring;
Suggesting to the country as a whole
That this simple plant can play a role
In helping those who need relief
And are being criminalized by a belief
That, accompanied with such sadness,
Was the true definition of ****** madness.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
trace patterns that never
cease to replicate.
I keep you going forever,
pop culture ******
but my fickle mind is ever-changing.
talk of overdose, divorce,
ego, graffiti.
I paint all across your face
my own art.
I make you taste the love
and hate and love and
wait
tell me what to do to rebel.
do I cut myself and lap up the metal red
in carnal hunger?
frenzy me in music and
******** misconduct policies.
no, pop culture ******
no, no, no, no, no!
help me out, man
plead again!
pick me up, man
dyfunctional family ain't near enough
petrol to sustain this fire or keep a smile
and I got no match to strike in the first place.
now my
destination unknown
the
first stop suicide
the priest asks me to produce my rosary.
I can't.
he says,
"fame or martyrdom then? we don't have enough to
give you both, kid."
I chose ambiguity as the way to go,
no street
no job
skipped the name.
pop culture ****** wants out of the puzzle and
into the game.
pop culture ****** wants out of the computer and
into the machine.
we tell them life is pretty.
abattoir for slaughterhouse so
no one asks questions.
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 2:13 PM UTC
Oh yes it is Sunday
that day I call it my fun day
when it comes to writing
mischief, mayhem
and most heinous misconduct
Watch a poet kicking dust
liken to a wild horse you want to tame
hey hay I will crush you
if you do not stroke my mane
mischief I am
Don't you dare touch me
do you know who I am
I am the child of chaos
the most wild child
the bringer of mayhem
And if you want, I could save you
if you bow down to me
for I am him of law
and so heinous
with every misconduct
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Lord Henry Dickenbottem
Lived among his peers
A mind of deepest arrogance
Concealed between his ears
He spent his nights in gross misconduct
Lounging in his secret quarters
Mistress, maid and washerwoman
Ousted mothers, secret daughters
Hiding sordid love affairs
His endless line of ******* heirs
***** Henry Dickenbottem
Stalked above the stairs
Lady Mary Dickenbottem
Did her wifely duty
The slenderest of all her kin
Considered quite the beauty
Though in the dusk the candle burned
Alone, she stitched a pallid face
And in the dark she sought its words
To gain her shallow masters grace
Guiding will and fooling eyes
Beseeching of the dead to rise
Demon Mary Dickenbottem
She the pure despise
Master Neville Dickenbottem
Best of all his class
Beaten all the school boys
And bedded every lass
Allies of the strongest kind
And making merry of the weak
The liberties were his to take
And never one he wouldn’t seek
His gaze surveyed that which he ruled
All logical and water cooled
Nasty Neville Dickenbottem
Devil-fire fuelled
Young Jemmima Dickenbottem
Innocent and slight
Playing on the borderline
And darting out of sight
Only ever at her ease
When no one else was close about
And etched upon her baby face
The guilty shadow of a doubt
Always blamed if something broke
And speaking just above a croak
Shy Jemmima Dickenbottem
Tangible as smoke
Old Mother Dickenbottem
Lounging in her chair
Lavender and nicotine
Are fighting for her hair
Beware, at night she ventures forth
So best keep safe your tiny tots
She’ll creep up to the windowpane
And ****** them, sleeping, from their cots
Humming in discordant tones
Nimble fingers, cold as stones
Hungry Mother Dickenbottem
Gnawing on the bones
Dear Major Dickenbottem
Five years in the ground
Hoarded every ha’penny
But frittered every pound
Long he served his king and queen
A gentlemanly thing to do
He left the port with many men
And brought back homeward very few
He died away in foreign lands
Of syphilis and swollen glands
Dead Major Dickenbottem
Killed by wandering hands
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC
Fantasy dream; caught in the between of reality
caught in these nets of generation’s imagination.
Desiring self *** appeal,—only the ones who’ve got
the guns for creation. Violence runs the streets;
a marathon of the fatherless kids brought into the world.
Tell them not to be bent out of shape if you dare, but
any blow of the wind causes them to fold.
Tender kisses of mama; spoiled a child:
Rotten as blackened teeth holes of the sweetest treats,
a long while since a tame domesticated the wild.
This child! Has only witnessed domestic violence all
of their life. Stepped on stepfather; beating the daylights
out of them every night.
Seeking approval; where the approved are only the kids
who break the rules. “There goes the youth,“
they’d often say. Unknowingly the same band of troubled
young mother’s go on their knees each night to pray.
But you’ll just bat an eye away from them;
ignore a present problem, still looking to a future’s gain.
Or take advantage of a youngster, then claim
their misconduct being only by an upbringing
as to blame. __Where are the men?__
_To show a son how to love and respect,_
_a daughter a hand of gentle protection,_
_Teaching lessons of wisdom never to forget,_
_not of their words becoming a weapon._
_To not settle for less when there’s always a best,_
_don’t let the shortest sad times become a deep long depression._
In the end what will our future be;
if we’re not being the future we’ll leave for
our young to follow,
Don’t glance at it with wallow,
build yourself strong,—build that strong
tomorrow.
Jun 9, 2022
Jun 9, 2022 at 9:15 AM UTC
Michael Morton is his name
He was wrongfully convicted
For the ****** of his wife
25 years in prison, he did
You don’t want to imagine that life
An innocent man
In a horrible land
Christ, it’s so terrible
DNA rescued Michael
And fine lawyers who believed in his innocence
Turns out the prosecutor, Anderson, was corrupt
For sure
He withheld material evidence that would have eliminated
Our hero — for he is one — as the perpetrator
That’s the real crime
There is more
Anderson was so out of line that it cost him his job as a judge
And he lost his law license
And he went to jail
For ten days
First time in American history a prosecutor went to jail for misconduct
There is more
Michael found the Lord in prison
Which greatly helped him so
On his release he found a church
Invited to speak about his experience
He told those assembled if they wanted to know what prison was like
They had to ask him out for coffee
So Cynthia did
It went well
They talked and talked
There were many dates
They are now married
Michael reconciled with his son, Eric
Who was three when his mother was killed
And thereafter wrongly believed it had been by Michael’s hand
The real murderer was convicted and went to prison
They passed a law in Texas to ensure this travesty would not happen to another
It’s named the Michael Morton Law
They are going to make a movie about these facts
Count your blessings
The foregoing is a true story
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
It's a shame...
That's, immoral
social indiscipline
politically bad ethic
And ethinic differences
Between you and the rulers
A wise person abuse no one
But himself for misconduct
No one respects any Nigerian
for our misconduct and then
corruption, fraud and stealing
How many foreign people are
swallowed, by these Nigerian's
cyber criminals...
North and southern ethnicity
Hausa/Fulani, Ibgo and Yoruba
the major ethnic groups are...
Muslims and Christian
Traditional and pagans
All, are of the same phase
of any crime activities and the
Selected and elected rulers are
from the same species of nature
Like ENDSARS, no one knows the
reason...
But I, slowly understand why
Robbery in the nigeran ancient
days, militia in the nigeran iron
age, religious crisis in the nigeran
social age, Boko Haram in the mid
age and abductions in the presence
age...
Because, you can't harvest the grannies old farm, you ran away
to the white men mansion to steal
in lieu of work to do...
🇳🇬🇳🇬🇳🇬
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 8:36 AM UTC
But what do you know about love,
when you can’t show trust—but you know about lust.
Always thinking about how to fu—nction on your luck.
And that’s going to be a quick bust; infatuations are a rush.
We’d swear we don’t cuss, as you’re drinking coffee for
a buzz—I'm just drinking to keep up.
You say you love me, but I know you also love other girls,
_so yeah right, yeah right!_ Just a shareholder in your life.
You love to talk but we don’t speak, you take life at ease,
but disturb my peace. Feels like you cut my wrists; there’s
no love for me to reach. But I still got a lot to give in a week,
till it leaves me feeling weak.
A heart made of stone, in the echo tone that you can’t
be alone. That’s a quarry of your love, when we quarrel
outside. So it’s hard to swallow pride, when we’re prideful
on both sides. In the shapes of drawing hearts, we’ve always
crossed a line. The outline is this relationship is not fine.
In the tune with a misconduct’s due. And I wish I could say
I’ve never known, but I always knew. So the wrongs you
do now, are nothing new.
But why the heck did I choose
__YOU!?__
Aug 12, 2022
Aug 12, 2022 at 3:12 PM UTC
Here's an adage to evaluate:
God helps those who help themselves.
Allow me please to start debating,
Speaking first on race relations;
Then you might go on on tax deductions,
And I'll rebut with school age shootings,
And all the *** and moral misconduct;
But the pinnacle's reached
With hedonistic fate,
The Oval Office of those United States.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
Little did I know, that one day,
Oh you, dark stranger would whisk me away,
Away from a world, I once took for granted.
Depriving me of the things that I valued,
Most dearly..Most devoutly...
O, dark stranger!
Why, O why...
Did you inevitably have to make me appreciate,
The fact that life is precious and far too short,
And that I could die tomorrow..?
Just what satisfaction do you get,
In making me cherish,
Every minute that He gives us?
In bereaving me of,
The gift of laughter..that is priceless?
Before you attacked me in the shadows,
I had not a clue that
This life was a treasure chest,
Rich in diamonds and gemstones of all sorts,
Or perhaps that it will be snuffed out and finished.
Unbeknownst to me,
Precisely how vulnerable and elusive,
For the misconduct of a handful of cells,
Could change my life so profoundly,
That happiness plays like a sad note.
Bounded to my bed,
Never shall I forget how you pinned me down.
Shut off in the small world of my own,
Unable to help, to meet or to work with
Break out, be of importance, perform marvels for God almighty.
You ponder how people can rejuvenate,
Or gather close to you.
Sympathy, inspiration, foodstuffs together with prayer,
Refreshing menu from the small yard,
Encompassed by care and attention.
What potency lay within me,
Reserve of power
Just been released just as much as I require,
To acquire in the battle,
Against you, dark stranger.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
You were never sure if it was the light in the room
but you told me;
You did not even need to squint to see a 12 year old boy.
And I could breathe then.
And only then.
At 22.
I read how you were struck off
for professional misconduct.
But it was just the right amount of intimacy
I needed to feel close.
I had no one.
You took my payment one month in advance.
I arrived early for every session
because I had nothing else to do.
Loitering on the doorstep.
You recorded our sessions, making tentative notes,
never at the expense of eye contact.
Lightly commenting how my feet dangled from the arm chair.
Unlikely I would grow much more-
you left your tone open for my interpretation,
like my growing, or not growing,
was neither here nor there.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
Lost out in the summer rain
Lost in a haze of summer gazes
All the fences razed to the ground
Inescapable sounds
Of oh isn't he smart
He will go places
Yeah but not your places
Places full of plastic faces
Hiding behind glass window display cases
Going to the moon
The scent of mediocre doom
Filling the room
Like whiskey *****
Fined for misconduct
Of a conduit into a cliche artist
Talking like tongues twisted off of
Mouth numbing shots of grey goose and jäger
Talking like slick Rick spitters
Who don't long for quick fillers
Of life experiences poured in a pitcher
And I'm talking ********
Pbr bellied fool ****
But rest assured
My inhibitions cured
I talk true ****
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
Hoping to pick up right before it went bad
You stick around like a hanging chad
But either way that I decide
I come out being the bad guy
Holding grudges is a petty thing
But constant let down also stings
I want to trust you and let you in
But we always seem to start the cycle again
I forgive and you forget
But slowly my days turn to regret
Because I know I was not the one that was wrong
I just got tired of being so **** strong
Old problems begin to resurface
And you seem like you could really care less
Because they are in the past
And you see no reason for my feelings of animosity to last
But they do
How I feel I want transferred to you
Because you’ve hurt me deep
And dug yourself into a hole with walls so steep
That thinking about it fills me with doubt
Because I don’t know if you can ever get out
And I’m sure as hell not gonna be the one to kneel
So you can use me and guilt me with your ******** spiel
So you better straighten the **** up
Because this is the last time I'm dealing with your misconduct
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
HE HURT ME IS ALL I CAN REALLY SAY,
HURT ME TO MY VERY CORE WITH HIS MISCONDUCT LYING WAYS AND ACTIONS,
WHICH SPOKE TO ME SO CLEARLY,
I'M LOOSING OUT ON A FATHER TO MY UNBORN CHILD
BUT I SMILE BECAUSE OF THE GIFT HE LEFT
YET WONT SEE,
WITHOUT HIM I'LL STRUGGLE FOR A WHILE
BUT WITH HIM I'D OF DROWNED.
LIFELINE MY *** HE WAS POSE TO BE
MY KING MY ULTIMATE EVERYTHING.
NOW THROUGH THE ASHES BURNT
BY HIS LIES IM LEFT A BABY AND HE'S ROLLING OUT,
GONE WITH THE WIND
LIKE AIR
I BREATHE HIM IN DEEP AND NOW I'M ALONE ONCE MORE WITH HIS SEED INSIDE OF ME AND JUST TO THINK IT ALL
STARTED WHEN HE PRETENDED TO BE NOTHING LIKE HE CLAIMED HE'D BE OR EVER WAS....
NOTHING MEANS ANYTHING.
SOMEHOW THOU I FELL FOR IT AND FOR HIM TOO
SO HARD SO LONG AND NOW ITS ALL GONE EXCEPT OUR BABY'S GOING TO BE BORN OUT OF LIES!
I'D CRY BUT HE STOLE MY TEARS AWAY TOO!
(I'd go through he in back with him & for him but reality is he wouldn't for me so i have to leave him alone. sweet lil lair)
ALWAYS ME AYESHAH
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 4:14 PM UTC
you whispered "i want you" in my ears
i giggled
"you dont need to pull off rom-com lines, i do like you"
i knew i am the one who is going to crumble
as you traced my inner thigh with your lips
regardless of the stretch marks i have
slowly closing in my heart
pleasing me.
proceeding on teaching me how to please you.
i couldn't hold myself together because
after.
you kissed the top of my head
cheeks, then lips.
then you held me in your arms
legs tangled under the sheets
your hands playing with my fingers
tenderly
later murmuring goodnight as you stroked my back.
i couldn't remember how many goodnight kisses we exchanged
we fell asleep with my face against your shoulder as i kissed your neck and breathed deliberately on it when you said it tickled.
always had to drive home alone half awake
before your mother wakes up
i will not forget the hostility of your brother
as he eyed me walking in your house to your room.
he was the one who saved us from cops
charging us misconduct by making out in your backseat.
yes my dear.
i am trouble.
maybe you decided that it was too much.
you wanted a sweet, little thing who would not give you attitude and would comply with little nice dates over coffee.
instead of me.
conceited.
who knew her worth and wouldn't settle.
and loves to drink and date multiple guys at once.
i guess i am a *****
i was willing to be different for you.
you loved me scratching your back.
batman
music
the best resolution on pixar films
and also cuddling.
but
i guess i will never understand why
you never loved me.
i wasn't enough. maybe.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
To me football is
twenty-two adults madly running after a ball,
One referee running after them to make sure they do not fight,
And two linesmen who make sure they stay inside the line.
In their haste to put the ball inside the goal post the referee gives them a yellow card for misconduct or a red card to send him off the field.
To top it all thousands of people pay a fee to come and watch them run crazily after the ball.
The highlight of game is a goal.
Whoever scores is a hero
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 8:08 AM UTC
Something controls this pen I fear,
Something that makes me write these things.
Somebody's voice I think I hear,
Something holding me back from fresh air,
The same feeling you get while on a swing.
Something like ever oppressing foliage, I don't know, something
harsher than the rings around my strained rib cage.
Thicker than the knot on my apron strings,
like the welt given to me from my engagement ring,
Stemming, never growing, although I seem to age.
Sometimes I feel like an caged animal; full of rage
Something is cornering me into a cage, it's like
Backstage I'm him, curtains up and I'm blowing my pressure gauge
Either way I'm an ******* doesn't matter if you turn the page,
the story doesn't change, that's my biggest fear; it's spiderlike.
I am myself, that's what I dislike.
Now I've got all this stress, I can add that too.
On the bottom of self-misconduct, I'm unsportsmanlike.
This game is a game, I'm starting to feel no better than Mike!
I need someone to speak to, to be wise to,
To dig into
Break into
Hell, bump into
Oh **** deja vu
Out of the blue
and into you.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC