"mutal" poems
In a busy town
In massachusetts
there is this college
BCC
At this cozy college
there are 8 buildings
But one has capture my heart completly
G BUILDING
Walk through the sliding glass doors
Around the corner
through the lunch room
To the Dinning hall
Noise assult my ears
Beeping video games
shouts of triumph
Kpop and metal music
Tables littered with playing cards
Yugioh
Pokemon
Magic
People as different as can be
From all corners of the social spectrum
Popular
and geeks
Join together in a crazy dance
A swirling brightly colored tango
Joined together
by mutal intrest
Riker, dear Riker
puple fadora ever present
My "Co-Pimp"
a founding father of the trolling company
Damien, Oh damien
Your strangness growing stranger
Your hair of deception
Another founding father
Jose, Dear Lord Jose
You're pervertenss proceeds you
Cat calling
Video gaming
Holly, sweet Holly
Looking innocent and sweet
Masking your wildness
underneath
Nathan, My Naten
My best friend through the ages
Opinions flying
Jungle juice by your side
Casey, My sweet sweet Casey
Ghost story devourer
Trusting you with my secrets
Everyone's little sister
John, John of the lake
Annoying as hell
but loveble all the same
only kind things to say
Josh, Or should I say Shoji
Big Brother
Laptop out
Video game in
Matt, My lovely Matt
This is where we met
Fate intervined
brought us together
This is where I belong
This island of misfits
This G building gang
This is my home.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
You've changed.
but---I don't know
what has changed.
Do I see it in your eyes,
or has the light in them
died.
Perhaps it is your smile--
The corners don't lift
wont lift
as high.
I cannot place what has changed
what metamorphosis has
mutated you into the creature
you are today.
Have my eyes filmed over
is your light less bright
or my soul less accepting?
Again I find my mind
confused
or unable to admit
my own faults projected
on you.
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 4:34 PM UTC
Your face is the sun
and mine the moon.
the twinkle in my eye,
just a reflection of you.
Can't hold back
your smile induces mine,
like a yawner and yawnee,
both victims intertwine.
Almost not fair,
like loving in a prison,
but I'm used to it now,
prison of a pretty person.
I couldn't bear be set free
the love is still mutal right?
but a fools been made of me
lonely freedom tonight.
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 8:28 PM UTC
She was tragically sad in a way that I was but couldnt afford to have tattooed on me because im african and no one has time for internal misery when there are kids with flies on the look out for something to unempty their bellies, you know stuff you see on telly
She had blond curly hair and we had the mutal understanding that bus rides were where we went to check on our selves, see how well we had supressed the demons for that day or week or past ten years
When I was going through my episodes I'd reinvent myself by establishing a new laugh
"Does this make me sound happier"
She would decide she was moving to india but never really left the university or ended up in brixton
Thats heres india if you cant afford the real thing
We would go for months without speaking and she would show up At my door with dark brown tresses dyed to conseal the misfortunes, unrequited loves and abortions
And I would put together the potions to help us through. No bus rides. just camomile teas and rouge lipsticks
Sit at cafe rouge and pretend to be happy old ladies meeting to exchange photographs of our grandchildren
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
Fate is a funny bird,
The way she breezes in,
like a tipsy traveler,
tinkering with the scenery,
bumping switches,
with a head toss and a laugh,
Then flitting off,
to the next hapless reality,
leaving not so much,
as a blueprint,
or a crudely sketched,
cocktail napkin,
in her wake.
And so began the story of us...
I had seen the inside of that bar,
but once in a decade,
it was the sort of solo-cup,
frat haven,
of the type I staunchly avoided,
But the city was a Sunday night,
ghost town,
and she snd I were diligent,
two chicks desperately ,
chasing the night,
we wandered onto Boston Street.
And you were there,
slinging drinks,
to a smattering of people,
peanuts,
A handful of bar snacks,
in semi formal wear.
And then there were three,
I'll never know,
if it was boredom,
or a mutal wish
to be anywhere,
but our respective homes,
that kept it going,
or if something,
in each of us,
recognized the other,
that night,
Gypsy dancing into the dawn,
sauced on your private recipe,
lemonade warlock potion,
my frienzied twirling stitching,
a spell in the darkness,
while my friend,
assured of her superiority,
tried to ****** you,
With that cocked-brow smirk,
you looked past,
and watched me.
Was I burning bright?
Or burning out?
A superstar in your midst,
or a supernova self-destructing?
I think we've yet to see it
the same way,
at the same time.
Is this our strength,
or our impending demise?
To this day I can't be sure.
And somwhere,
in a dank speakeasy,
our mistress fate,
is taking a long sip,
from a dry martini,
and throwing back her head,
with a throaty laugh.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 9:45 AM UTC
I sincerely hope
You never felt like
Your love me for was
Not reciprocated
I wish I gave you
Everything that
You gave me but
I saw life distorted
My own I plans thwarted
I wonder if when love dies
Can you restore it?
When love runs it's course
Can you ignore it?
The feelings weren't mutal
Seems like in the end
You felt differently about me
No longer could you pretend
Remember what you said?
You broke my heart once
But never again?
You got me back in August
A month later you're finished
And I recall that I saw this
My dreams wake me early
Every single morning now
Heartbreak breaking a cycle
But I'm in mourning now
Feeling empty as my bedside
Wondering if of any of the drinks
And shots you've had since
If you've dedicated one to us
And all of the little things
That we shared together
Never been ashamed to admit
That losing you was
Losing more than love
I lost the one that knows me best
I lost one of my closest friends
Losing you feels like I lost my place
I still keep the pictures of us up
Just so I can see your face
And maybe I'm strange but
No one sees them anyway
I was me before we wrote our chapter
It hurts that you think I've changed
But I'm still me the page right after
If you still don't believe that
Or just can't see it right now
Remember that the Finley you met
The one you fell in love with then
Still loves you just as much
And misses you so very dearly
But don't worry about me, I'll be ok
Reading this poem I hope
That you can hear me
Because I speak sincerely
I always felt your love
I hope you felt it back
Love can be cold
Without reciprocation
That's why I carry guilt
My certain lack of dedication
You tried in everything
I just lost my patience
Got sick, went numb
Or gave in to
Depressions deprivation
Like I said, don't worry
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
Each time a garden blooms
We tend to prune too quickly
And every lovely petal falls
What was wanted along by the ones not
Patience is a supposed virtue
But is unnecessary when the feelings are mutal
To meet one of your kind is most unusual
I just may be delusional to wicked schemes
Unawaringly wrapped up in fantastical dreams
Although having been around your character of being
I have some subtle reason to believe
Doubt that which is normally seen
Removed from the picture of reality
Instead placed in front of technicality
Physically attracted to how you mentally challenge me
In such a way you have become my surroundings
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
The two men had known each other since childhood
And had remained friends
With exploring eyes they had seen eagles soar in Italy,boats sail in Greece
the large moving hands of Big Ben in London,laughing children in Paris
And in all of these wonderful places they could speak and clearly
Understand each language.They had become world travelers
Having traveled by boat train horseback camel taxie.Than one ,each traveler had discovered that different ailments had come upon the other
One traveler's legs were weak needing a wheel chair, his friend had gone blind
so they sat down together to discuss their mutal plinghts
And put a plan in place that would let them continue enjoying
new travel adventures.The crippled traveler in the wheel chair
Promised to be the eyes for seeing. The blind traveler promised to use
his strong legs and fit body to push his wheelchair bound friend wherever they decided to journry.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
My heart kept on beating at the thought of his name
I kept telling myself that it would be to my shame...
I wonder and gaze at the fact that everyone around me has their beloved ones
And that love, companionship, mutal care was within them...
I also want to experience such love
I tell myself
A love that I feel and will never let go
A love that grows stronger at the sight of my significant other's flaws
A love that opens my eyes wider than before
And a love that makes me the best me ever
Yes I can find all that and more in the comfort of my Saviour
But I also want to have someone of my youth
Someone I can walk and talk to
Someone that has my best interest at heart
Someone that loves me like no other
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC