"offending" poems
I just want to write a poem no one ever thought of writing
It must have the same effects as walking on the moon
It must trend faster than a meteor as it hurdles through cyber space
I refused to love any man, who dislikes my poetry,
My man must support my passion ..
not only the warmth of my body
but the passion within this poetess, my secretive mind he must be able to balance:
Without wondering why a woman like me is so naturally secretive
I am always embracing the dark side of my creativity
Dropping little hints here and there throughout the years,
Sidney J. Harris once said something that left pondering thoughts
He said “When he hears somebody sighs,
'Life is hard,' he’s always tempted to ask them, 'Compared to what?'
I would simply say dog-gone it: Compared to struggling poets whose tries to make a living as a writer
While an upcoming rapper like Chief Keef
signed a several-million dollar deal
with offending lyrics in today music industries:
I just want to write a poem no one ever thought of writing,
With lots of intense emotion bursting through each line:
Because a poem can’t exist without a poet's multiple voices
and most of all his divine missions
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
reloading old identity
cleping outdated usernames
abandoning acrostic ambitions
disputing spratly islands
receiving horizontal signals
tumbling otiose panda
impending carefree senility
otiose stage of life
shrinking ambient world
making minimal effort
duchamping social networks
ambushing personified ennui
restoring usual efforts
ignoring stupid people
adding textual value
owning this joint
rejecting ignorant extroverts
acting mutually unintelligble
hoisting stan-lee cup
replacing wanton ubiety
eluding twitter fame
splashing excessive relativism
offending another simpleton
preparing arcane cthulhusphere
crashing unpredictable festival
selecting subtextual moombahton
intensifying model topography
drafting minimal cornucopia
using nomadic project
implementing harsher personality
importing robotic inhumanity
referencing landmark event
ingesting excessive liquids
accepting relative invisibility
purchasing immortal confidence
using rhapsodical database
assuming nothing works
developing impactful eruptions
ejecting ambient frustration
synthesizing tactile festival
raining during parade
mocking rich people
mastering minimalist writing
avoiding preprandial stinkaroo
spreading non-ideological propaganda
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions
translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw
crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression
drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille
depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols
making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe
relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?
increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation
lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Tick a hundred places,
You wanna be..
Mark one too many people,
To prove wrong..
Note down each rule,
You wanna break free..
Have so many dreams,
You wanna see, come alive..
..that even depression can't inspire suicide..
..and instead, find pleasure in offending life.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
i don't know what's worse:
forcing myself to fall asleep without your touch
or waking up in an empty bed again
it's a whole new kind of loneliness
trying to get a hold of myself
after years of trying to hold you
seven hundred and eighty-nine days
falling and fighting over you
just ends with **** we're dividing up
i cannot remember what life was like
before my eyes met with yours
the deepest shade of blue
you will always linger
in new habits we've created together
in every hidden spot in the city that i've shown you
all my hopes, dreams, and fears
they now belong to you
for evermore
i woke up alone again today
perhaps you did, too
just two broken souls in lonely beds
we were never meant to be
i toss and turn
flipped the pillow where you used to lay your head
now soaked with my acid tears
i will curse you for the longest time
always pondering the 'what-ifs'
if one thing had been different
would everything be different today?
would you have never left?
would we have never ended so catastrophically
the most bittersweet tragedy?
i used to feel you, no matter how far you were
yet in the final days, you got me questioning
who was that stranger laying next to me?
we were fire on fire
now i'm ash and ember
so who am i offending now?
you were my most beautiful film
sadly, i couldn't change the ending
pacing back and forth
i find myself talking into the night
"this pain would be never more"
Dec 20, 2022
Dec 20, 2022 at 9:14 AM UTC
A creature not of here or there
With parts that do not fit
Neither fish nor fowl, horse or bear
A bashed together kit
Too many heads, some with horns
Body furred and scaled
Eagles wings and spines like thorns
And as a peacock tailed
Some aspects might bring a smile
While others will repel
One small detail may beguile
Yet another breaks the spell
Each pack or flock it tries to join
Though they seemed akin
And in some facet quite adroit
Another portion can’t fit in
Every time it tries as best it may
To hide an offending section
Knowing that if seen in light of day
The result will be rejection
So the beast remains an alien
Cloaks what's best concealed
Strives to imitate the chameleon
That no misshape be revealed
All creatures hunger for a home
Chimera hungers too
But it wanders doomed to roam
A haven to pursue
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 10:12 PM UTC
My defensive carer named Alfreido Dimpitt Reemo
You see my nice regular carer, Andrew Williams was sick and didn't want go to work
Which put spanner in the works in the office, and they were wondering who will replace him
So they decided to ask Alfreido Dimpitt Reemo a call, and were happy when he said yes
And they forgot to tell his first client, who can be very confusing in conversation
But they forgot to tell that client and Alfreido turned up at his door
And this was the day that Andrew was going to take him for a walk through the domain
Where the Christmas carols, and Alfreido was happy to take him
And they had a cool time, till the client told him about his old carer who was names Reimo
And Aldreido snapped at him, and his client thought that he doesn't understand happiness
And this made him happier, and he started laughing and trying to joke around with Alfreido
And Alfreido did joke with him, and really they started to hit off
And then, so his client mentioned his old carer Reimo and how much of a **** he was
And Alfreido got defensive, in fact he got so angry he nearly hit his client
And this made his client too shy to say anything else
On the risk that Alfriedo was going to do it again
And he even was afraid to speak his mind, in the risk he'll snap at him
And his client were unhappy about how this carer treated him
Especially when they were leaving the domain and there were some teenagers teasing him
And this made his client think that Alfreido was teasing him with the kids
I know he had issues for what he said, but, he though this was very wrongs the way
His carer was behaving, and every time he mentioned Reimo, in hoping that he would
Joke around with you, he will snap, as if you were trying to rob you or something
So at the end when Alfriedo left, he didn 't know what to do
So he rang up the carers organization and told them why Alfreido came instead of Andrew
And they told him they had no choice, it was either Alfreido or no one
And this client said, ok in the future, I will prefer no one, especially if you send him again
Because he is too defensive, when I mention the name of my old carer
And despite telling him why he snapped, he still felt very unsafe
And said, I want you to send no one, or send no one
Because I felt I am offending this carer with anything I say
And I don't know what I really said, and the organisation said, fine
And Alfreido never saw him again,
And the next time Andrew came, and he was very relieved
And told him that the bad carer has gone, and will never return
And Andrew said, yes, mate, I will make sure they don't ever send him again
Sent from my iPhone
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 5:53 AM UTC
Another day, another hour spent looking at cadavers,
Surprisingly fun, and suspiciously fresh bodies-
"Hey Mrs. Johnson, what do you think John did with his life?"
She gave me a look that didn't seem too pleased at my inquisition.
Or the fact that I named our body John.
Morbidly, I thought she looked at me like a zombie would look at our friend John like a cold cut subway sandwich,
Although I figured if I were a zombie,
I'd prefer my meat fresh, and not embalmed
with formaldehydes and ethanol.
"That thought seems inappropriate and not respectful of the medical sacrifice 'john' made " she said dripping with in my opinion too much sarcasm for me to NOT respond too.
"Well, John is dead, I don't think he's getting offended anytime soon," I retorted.
Her smile contorted like the prudish smile John offered me in support.
"I'm not worried about offending the corpse as much as I am the ghost, and this Lab will NOT be haunted under my watch"
(Her pride in her wit inflated much like Johns body inflated with decomposition and bowel gases.)
I apologized internally for the comment and action I was about to make-
"This medical dictatorship has to collapse sooner or later-
and I still want an answer too my question"
And with that,
I took the nearest scalpel to his bloated stomach,
and watched in disgust and glee as everyone else ran for cover amongst the ****** of stomach contents and Johns final retribution in death.
I got an A+ in that class.
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 3:25 PM UTC
I can't sleep, I can't rest my eyes.
Need to work harder this term,
Or I'll never get a job.
Need to get a job so I
Can work to get one later.
What will your face look like when
You see me? Will mine mirror
Yours? Do you still want to be
With me? Or are you sick of
My insecurities? I
Can't go back to the empty
Chatter and the meaningless
"I love you"s, sitting around
Waiting for absolutely
Nothing to happen.
Stabbed by passive aggressive
Thoughts unleashed like a weapon.
But this might not matter 'cause
The plane could crash or explode
And I won't have to worry
About a thing...except for
Medical bills, catching up
On schoolwork, notifying
Those who matter, offending
Those who don't. Maybe if I'm
Lucky I'll slip into a
Coma and rest for a while...
But that's no good because I'll
Just worry everyone else.
But really, I am just fine.
Just what are you doing? Don't
Look at me closely. I told
You that I'm fine, I'm okay.
Please have a nice day and don't
Worry about me. I'm fine.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
The film starts with narration from Mother Nature herself,
discussing an experiment with Father Time
that went horribly wrong; On the fictional island of Wongo
she has created a tribe where the men are brutish & ugly
& the women exceedingly beautiful.
She then creates another tribe on a nearby island called Goona
where the women are repulsive & the men are strong
and handsome; For years the two tribes lived unaware
of each other's existence, until ape men from across the
ocean attack the village of Goona. The tribe sends the son of their
king to seek help against the invaders.
The son finds the island of Wongo
the day before the village men are to pick their brides &
the women, seeing the handsome prince,
begin questioning their life among the ugly brutes
that dwell in their village. The men growing jealous
of their visitor, plan to **** him. The women of Wongo,
finding out about the plot, risk their lives to protect
the handsome prince, in doing so offending
the crocodile god of the Wongo people
[portrayed by stock footage of a crocodile
and rubber model]. The women are rounded up
by the village men & sent into the wilderness
until the reptile god has drawn blood for the slight;
The women banding together, watch each other's backs
until the ape men arrive at their village &
the women dispatch the invaders to their god,
the women then leave in search of the men
that had abandoned the island of Wongo.
In Goona, the men begin their rite of manhood,
in which they go into the jungle without weapons
for a month. The women of Wongo coming upon
the weaponless men, decide to take advantage
of their helplessness & one by one, claim them in marriage;
The film concludes with all the beautiful men and women married & the ugly men with the ugly women.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
(Judges, vi.25)
Jesus! whose blood so freely stream'd
To satisfy the law's demand;
By Thee from guilt and wrath redeem'd,
Before the Father's face I stand.
To reconcile offending man,
Make Justice drop her angry rod;
What creature could have form'd the plan,
Or who fulfil it but a God?
No drop remains of all the curse,
For wretches who deserved the whole;
No arrows dipt in wrath to pierce
The guilty, but returning soul.
Peace by such means so dearly bought,
What rebel could have hoped to see?
Peace by his injured Sovereign wrought,
His Sovereign fasten'd to a tree.
Now, Lord, Thy feeble worm prepare!
For strife with earth and hell begins;
Conform and gird me for the war;
They hate the soul that hates his sins.
Let them in horrid league agree!
They may assault, they may distress;
But cannot quench Thy love to me,
Nor rob me of the Lord my peace.
2.3k
I'm tired of messing up,
I want things the way they originally were.
I wish things would start looking up,
nowadays anything can occur.
I see I've changed my personality
changed into something I'm not,
Only to find that the new me,
has more problems than I'd formerly thought.
I want to change things back,
I want the life I had before.
There is so much that I lack,
Don't know how much more I can endure.
The shy introvert has been hiding,
In a corner she is bound;
While the friendly talker has been thriving,
offending loved ones around.
It's time to put the end,
pay attention to what is said.
Time to make amends,
and put the shy girl ahead.
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 11:15 PM UTC
~For Mr. Lawrence Hall~
<>
you absolutely sure?
Now for sure I'm no expert, though did read the New Testament
Cover to cover, all in one sitting, for a Jesuit priest buddy,
yes my taste in friends is
Eclectic, like my poems, slightly at the fat tail of an
Abnormal curve,
i.e. turn my curse into a blessing,
Anyway, it strikes me that Jesus,
spent his time, full-time,
Solving for X,
and showed quIte an
imaginative thought/belief process,
And great creativity,
To obtain his answers...
Hoping I'm offending no one...unintentional for sure,
he is a
Heroic figure, kind and forgiving, what's not to like?
But he solved problems, multi variate, non linear, imaginatively,
Never threw in the towel on the truly complex, though., he never perceived himself as a mathematician, indeed his life was eXactly
That, solving humanity for the X,
the humanity in us,
So yeah, he didn't just say solve for X,
He just went about his day, solving solving solving...
salving, salving...
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 5:26 PM UTC
At this time of my life
I find myself wearing hats…
I’m not happy with my head you see,
In short, being able to see it
it just doesn’t thrill me.
Not through those depressing, disappearing strands.
So it’s that time - It’s hat time!
Hats are warm, comforting things;
take it off and, for a while at least,
it feels still there - a phantom hat.
Not quite as spooky or worrying
as a phantom arm or leg - after that
severed limb thing, but right there!
It really is that time - It’s hat time!
My Grandma Lamplough,
that’s on my mother’s side,
was an avid knitter of things to order,
She was even a freelancer for Jaeger…
matinée jackets, mittens, cardies, pullovers
But in later days mostly just tea cosies.
If there was no immediate customer in mind…
“Everybody needs a cosy and one size fits all”
she would say… and anyway,
commissions were rare for cosies back in the day
She’d wear it boldly herself
with handle and spout slots front & back, proud
She’d start the next one and announce
to every visitor right out loud…
”Hey…Do you want a cosy for your ***
Mr Watling, the milkman, he had quite a lot!
But then he showed up every day!
A quart is it Mrs L?… and yes, I WILL have a cosy today!
Me? I’ve never fancied a toupee, wig
or go in for a Bobby Charlton tribute gig ….
I’ll be happy just to settle for a beret,
news boy or Fedora… to hide the offending pate
and avoid the comb over till a later date.
Meanwhile I’ll maybe settle for Grandma’s cosy special?
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 9:32 AM UTC
Welcome to America, in 2016.
Where "all lives matter"
Except Syrian refugees
Where you can't even breathe
Without offending somebody.
Where parents are taken from their children,
Because of the color of their skin.
Where we normalize police brutality.
Where you can be a racist,
And still run for president.
Where injustice is served, with a side of GMOs.
Where the citizens of Flint have been without clean water for how long?
Who knows.
Our minds are diluted by capitalism and celebrities.
Where people will look at you crazy for saying,
"Save the bees"
Meanwhile they're out there, planning WWIII.
When you're told "your vote counts!"
But we're stuck with Trump & Hillary.
Where women on the red carpet are glamorous and sexualized,
But if you're ***** they'll ask,
"Well what were you wearing that night?"
A guy selling marijuana will serve his whole life.
Whereas Brock Turner was released in what felt like overnight.
Where white privilege has never been more real.
And our generation is learning that
"You're weak if you feel."
People being told we have nothing to fear,
Meanwhile the media is controlling what we hear.
People fighting for clean water, as if that wasn't our God-given right.
Our women are afraid to walk home alone at night.
You can work 40 hours a week, and still not make enough to live.
But if you ask for government assistance, you're a "lazy son of a *****
When in reality, it's just enough to feed your kids.
The Elite have created this illusion of seperation.
They have torn us apart as a world, and as a nation.
The color of our skin doesn't make us any different.
I promise you can love someone who practices a clashing religion.
Underneath it all, we're all the same.
All this person on person violence just makes us pawns in their game.
We should be coming together as humans, who have lost their humanity.
Maybe this all makes my "liberal."
But in all honesty, the current state of the world has me questioning my sanity.
Love thy neighbor, respect their spirit.
Or we won't be around much longer to experience it.
Welcome to America in 2017.
We forgot how to love one another so we were wiped out, mercilessly.
If only we had come together before we tore ourselves apart.
If we remember who we are,
We can be our own light in the dark.
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
When pins and pressure plates crawl into my spent shoulders
I clutch madly to crush the offending sinews.
When I’ve grazed the side of my tongue with an accidental death-threat
I revisit the spot and repeatedly incise, until I’m ******* crimson and tears.
When the she-squito shoots me up via serrated needle turning me feastlike
My fingernails compulsively scavenge out the adenosine deaminase.
I sniff the arid bottles of perfumes I love that are no longer manufactured.
I re-trace my lost friendships through the riverside paths we made.
I chop onions and slurp hot sauce until I’m dry.
Maybe that’s why I’m stuck on you.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
You didn't even give her a rose today, how unromantic you are, dude."
Exactly ! I'm unromantic.
But why the hell are you so **** concerned with me being romantic.
Go to her and utter my name in front of her, and just watch her reaction that follows.
See if she can hide that blush or not,
control that smile or not.
A flower to prove my love is a way too offending to us both.
Our type of romance is far away than
what you imagine about.
We need not say "I love you" hundred
times a day,
we need not write cheesy lines for each other.
We don't get jealous of the other
friends that we both have.
We don't spy each other doubting the trust.
You just go and tell her of any another girl I'm in relationship with.
She won't be sad or angry,
she won't shout or lose her temper.
Neither would she call me and start abusing me the way you'd be expecting.
Dude ! She won't give a **** to whatsoever you've spoken.
Our way of confirming the things are so different that you will die out
of jealousy of perfectness.
When we share our things, every decisions, situations, not giving a thought of being judged, is the time we celebrate our perfectness together.
The time we meet and have an eye contact exchanging effortless smiles, is the time we celebrate our Valentine's day, regardless of the date and day.
Don't you please tell her of how unromantic I am, she will die out of laughing..
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 7:47 AM UTC
You softly light upon me unannounced
Offending all my tranquility
Sly and cunning in your swift approach
As you creep right up on me
I watch your quest with breathless interest
Yet, silently in increasing fear
Submissive to your persistent touch
As I wonder why you’re here
Do you see me as a frustrating hindrance
Or am I part of your life’s crusade
Are you taking delight in my fearful plight
Or merely wishing I’d go away
Have I become your latest amusement
To incapacitate with dreadful fear
Or would you prefer I assert my valiant pride
And vanquish you from here
I am not quite sure of your intentions
Perhaps you are not sure of mine
But I’ve grown weary of this wondering
And all this rising fear is asinine
The time has come for one of us to finally make a move
Regardless of the reasons you are here
As I know the pain you can inflict is powerful and strong
You can watch me run along in all my fear
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 6:30 PM UTC
When I speak,
my eyebrows tell their own story,
filling in the details.
Even when I try my hand
at tact, striving for
porcelain politeness,
my eyebrows loiter in dark corners,
gossiping.
Living with two feral beasts
on one’s face
requires discipline
just short of a chainsaw.
In private I must
chisel & furrow,
for these miniature sculptures,
these Michelangelo topiaries.
This isn’t vanity.
This is protecting a pious public
from a lecherous, libidinous wolf.
For me, leaving the house and
participating in pleasantries,
daily interactions, is enough of a
Leviathan leech loading my back
without seditionist caterpillars
millimeters from munching my eyes out.
It’s for me that I tweeze,
for one only PLUCKS chickens,
that row of hair
which runs the length of my brow.
For me, for my comfort in
social negotiations.
I also do it for you,
if only to keep you from
flinching in fear
as my eyebrows defy
my utmost efforts
at not offending you.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Our world is corrupted
The people disrupted
Happiness interrupted
Walking down the street is a challenge
There’s pointing fingers,
There’s danger around every corner
Taught to assume everyone’s dangerous
Taught not to be alone at night
Taught to constantly be defensive
for it seems everyone has a gun these days.
Nothing can be said
Nothing can be worn
Without offending someone.
America the beautiful
America the afraid.
America, from sea to shining sea
America, pollution to destruction.
America, thy liberty in law
America, discrimination on the down low.
So many ads destroying self confidence
So many stereotypes for our kids to grow into
So quick to blame others for our problems
So quick to shame ourselves.
America, the beautiful.
Our world is corrupted.
The people, disrupted.
Happiness interrupted.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
A man I looked up to
Once told me to be careful,
That maybe I could be too much.
Too bold
Too strong
That men may not feel comfortable.
But you see
Women in my world have never been gentle,
Always burnt with too much fervour
To care that you might melt.
You think it is an insult,
That you can coerce me into being more submissive
By the threat of offending men.
Like somehow I am nothing
With the absence of a man's desire.
Like everything about me
Should be channelled into impressing a man
I am yet to meet.
But you don't know that inside I am smiling.
Inside a fire in me burns brighter at hearing
That sometimes my strength makes them uncomfortable.
I am not here so men who tell me I'm prettier when I have less voice,
So men who think it's okay to intimidate me
Whenever they see fit,
In whatever form they wish,
Can feel less unsettled by this supposed threat to their masculinity.
I hope my mind,
My bones and my blood,
Make your safety net
Of a society that breeds and feeds male egotism
A little less secure.
I am not here for your comfort.
I am not here to feed the monster of misogyny inside of you.
Do not tell me to douse my fire
And extinguish these flames
Just because you,
Men like you,
Cannot handle the heat.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
in my obliviousness
inadvertent and unintentional
some may say as usual
i disturbed a wasp nest
the heightened bombilation
an anger-pitched droning
unheard somehow
therefore unheeded
until that impolite *****
a warning sting
through t-shirt to torso
followed by a few more
in quick succession
set my legs moving
apologetically away
with hands raised
chastened and contrite
both in supplication
and in order to remove
the offending article
of clothing
the oversensitive wasp
having become trapped within
defensively stinging
as nature directs
to be honest
its overzealous instincts
began to feel
more like spite
than mere survival
Aug 24, 2023
Aug 24, 2023 at 11:52 AM UTC
I don't like talking.
Sharing is uncomfortable
Understanding is difficult.
I like to be
a l o n e
It's not meant in offense to anyone
Though I often end up offending when
They make me talk
Or I talk to myself.
I don't really think
Anything sentient is all that great
Including myself...
(Not that I think immobile things are fantastic. They are nothing.)
Socializing is pressure
When forced, I sometimes don't even feel like I'm really there
Being in the same room as others
Cause friction in my brain.
Synapses explode
The tiny unicorns that handle maintenance
Get distracted
Nothing good happens.
I like to be alone
But I hate small spaces.
Therefore, my life is a compromise.
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 5:40 PM UTC
Visions of oppositions, positions and prison. The forward missions, the capitalism, criticism and optimism. The Amor, the adored, the allure and the awards! The doors, the poor, the gore and the sore.
The any and many! The many hoards of pennies, before the lords of plenty. The awkward, the backward, the hospital wards and the
mental. Furthermore, more roar and war with a governmental evil,
medieval in blue! Therefore as I do accrue the clues, the dues, the hues and views. Something’s of me? My belated peeling, feelings related to that of a shrine of the divine. Etched and sketched by a pencil and stencil. Designed by the heavens divine. A displaced or misplaced,
abused, bruised and reused utensil. Something’s of me? I am often depressed, half-dressed and suppressed. Distraught and stressed by
thoughts, thoughts that are fought, sought and taught. As I endeavor, forever dedicated. However, medicated or sedated! A neglected, suspected sinner. A grinner and winner in entice haste, with precise
pace! As I taste the waste of this offending never-ending race. Regardless heartless, relentless congress. Yes, in confessing to you; beware of the care, the dare, the flare, the rare of scare! Attempt to see
what I have seen in contempt! In-between or as a teen. The obscene or serene! The many scenes at the seams. Driven by schemes and themes
it seems! Full of the brave that craves! The deprave and the rave. Those things which sing from the grave... Something’s of me? These are no lies, as a book carefully look into my sorrowful eyes. See why I despise, why I am wise. Look beyond the ancient, powerful skies.
They’re in wonderful constant, radiant disguise. Something’s of me?
My sensitive life of delight in fight, fright and plight. My life of sight, my life of trite. My negative pride! My life’s awesome, positive stride! Inside as I cry, as I hide… I depressingly, devotedly, ignorantly, triumphantly, unfortunately, hopefully and literally say. I am definite that one day I will embark into the dark. Emulate as a creative,
relative spark! Onto Noah’s great and infinite ark. Sailing into the prevailing, unveiling rain... with much too gain, maintain, regain and retain. Believing, weaving and leaving the grieving, the blame, the flame, the fame, the insane and the pain.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:17 PM UTC