"pasttime" poems
Archers stance, breath held
Sighting along the arrow
The calm then the storm
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
yip oh no i mean that choke
a sign of when you should probably leave then cope
a time where hidden things only treat don't *****
so mother ******* ill ask you if god is hope
are you willing to put your name on the line just for his smoke
just blow on his tree and to loc what he spoke
you know im still talking about the big guyy upstairs
the letter that no one dares to bear
a treat for only a fear where were here
to seek like a it was meek
and you know he can use that vocab like *******
instead of a ***** creek
or dentel **** if you mam
just so i can trash
his laughs
on the back
of his traps
that only lead to the facts
of most these people only feeding on minors brainwacks
this song is too delicate to finish on the track
wanna leave this for my people that only wanna treat it fair
as is they were taught to share
like there moms did right
hope this only came to you,
left only feeling half scr3wed
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
there's a decency to ignorance- but it does tend to overstay it's welcome
when eating less and weighing more- consider cutting out carbs and toxic masculinity
they say love and war are opposing acts- however forgiveness is granted to those unable to distinguish the difference
hating things is not a personality trait- but it is a pretty cool pasttime
the problem with ignorance is not that you don't know things- it's that you don't know that you don't know things
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
I am sad again, but I have no idea why.
Living keenly with an idea of what I want out of life.
My favorite season, autumn, is upon us.
And my writing is frequent and fulfilling.
So why am I sad again and why am I an orange juice, spilling?
I miss the days where drugs meant fun. Where ridicule was a pasttime.
Between best friends, and Windows didn't force updates.
The Internet was an escape around which Identity was ignored.
You were your username,
and you were too full to be bored.
I am sad again despite selling two poems to a couple patrons
during an open mic night I frequent.
I hadn't been much, chose instead to spend
my time writing and feeling sorry for myself.
Now that I'm out again and re-befriending familiar faces.
It almost feels like belonging is as lost as context between the spaces.
I'm stark raving sad and I've only just arrived.
One year finally after the middle-age of twenty five.
If I make it until January consider me your unlucky kin.
A day without morbidity, how long has it since last been?
Too long;
So long, too.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
I have forgotten what you look like
Your smell and touch
Mind scatters when pulled to retrieve you
Memories mirage like lingering smoke from fire
Funny how time no longer hiccups in anticipation of you
You are the forgotten tune hummed
Beautiful and decadent in space
You are sprinkles of notes for greater melodies to come
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC