"plater" poems
Life crumbles my visions asunder,
Ignorance shoves me into clumsy blunder,
Love throws me into the zone of blinder,
Forgetting that I'm a Pathfinder.
When life deprives me off the briddle,
When everything seems to be a puzzle,
When my story goes like a riddle,
In grief, I hear life playing it's own fiddle.
Heavy weight makes my legs jiggle,
My blistered feet make me stumble,
But 'they' see me and chuckle,
While they used to praise me in hotels.
Engineering renders me a plater,
In my own house, am made a janitor,
I date a ****** city bunter,
Money in my life is a gutter.
Physique portrays me of a working Caliber,
So they ask "Do you work here?"
Yet behind the curtains am a begger,
A begger in fashioned attire.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 2:44 AM UTC
Mine
Awesome
Never
Cool
Handsome
Eager
Safe
Time
With my fingers scratching your chest
Up and down
I can use some other treats upon the abs
Whip cream lick
Strawberries higher
You could be my plater
You liking it
My sweet tooth
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
Anxiety straps his body binding his muscles and locking his joints. Stress is visible on his torn bleeding fingers. Fear crippling his mind showing him the images of the world, ones that look like they're straight out of a Tim Burton movie. Dark demented but true. Oh so true. So true that everyone else has gone blind saying that everything is fine. But it's not. He's not fine. Oh no he may put on a smile and hide the pain in his eyes but it's there. You just have to look deep enough. Reality is so distressed we make up fantasies and call them reality. We ban all the things that will allow you to see the real world. We brain wash the children to believing that they deserve everything on a silver plater. "Reality" is not even real, just a fragment of our fevered imaginations. So when anxiety immobilizes your body, seizing your muscles and tightening them till they're strung taught. When it locks your joints not allowing you to move. When stress makes you mutilate your body by ripping the fleshy linings on your fingers pouring blood. When fear fills your mind giving you chills those little goose bumps and that shiver that runs down you spine when you know something is just not right. No not right at all because you can't handle the images of Reality and when you try to process them and tell others what you see they put you in a mental hospital. "For your own good" they said. They call you ****** crazy, mentally unstable. So you zip your mouth shut and let them think your ok. You let them believe that their child is not broken that they can still "save" you. You let them listen to these falsifications so you can go home and be "normal". So much so you start believing the lies again and forget the harsh Reality.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
Why you always speaking voodoo on my name
Trying to turn me violent
By boiling the blood in the canals of my veins
And short circuiting the wires energizing the flows in my brain
It like you ******
When I crash into the base of my pains
Hoping that I would turn into sand
So you can bury your feet in the grains
Your logic has always been misconstrued
But now its just simply insane
Like... really ******* crazy
Exertion you abuse daily
Your life force steady draining
In attempt to jeopardize my safety
Im just trying to push these rhymes
Before you have me pushing these daises
But no
But Hell noo
But **** noooooo
You too lazy
And revenge like ***** on a plater
Is way too tasty
Its elementary to know that your wrong
But yet sing a song that does nothing but blame me
For the lost of your flame
For the tragedy associated with the syllables of your name
For the distortion of the water mirroring the curves of your frame
All things I have not nothing to do with
But I wish I could claim
Yet your determine to finalize this quest
So you stay unrest
Staying awake to see the sun dying in the horizon
To be silenced by the resurrect of the moons crest
A machine would be impressed
Witnessing you out perform its best
They way you devote your essences trying to obviate mine
A busy schedule
But thats fine
Because you always find time to make time
Why?
You could see so much more
Feel so much more
Do so much more
Be so much more
But you let hate consume your once illuminating core
So this is a warning to a soul I once adored
Free yourself from this self inflicted war
And don't think of me
Not even in the slightest anymore
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC