"possesions" poems
all of you too,
ask what shall we call you,
and I smile/grimace, for lack of a
proper witty, worthy, weirdly perfect
pithy reply
which is why I offer you
a free option,
call me by my other name,
a What~You~Will,
your preference is my desire,
it is within your hidden possesions!
your chosen attribute?choice,
now mine,
multi-faceted
multi faced,
every name has its own unique
poet
hissing hiding inside,
wary of confessing he's/she's a sinner,
ask, and you shall be both
deceived,
and
well received,
for we live in a thousand of words,
all disordered
and when you inquire,
then they be re~sorted into new combinations
and for you,
**when you call me,
you may call by that name**
that name,
of the poem that
will be given and taken
expressly
for and from you,
it is the only way my
teachers taught me
to take,
in order yo give you back
your uniquness
…
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 10:20 PM UTC
On the table , over there by the woven chair,
a box of prize possesions still line up there.
Left unattended, as if in a rush...
something is now missing...something he used to touch.
Let us flip the page of time, perhapes a few days back.
Count the items that were in the box, perhapes something
is a lack.
A ball of string, so carefully rolled, a coin with faded date.
A photo of a lovely girl and a flag of the United States.
A ring and then a whisp of hair, human one would hope
and then a little soldier of tin , the hero of the show.
This tin soldier had seen the world, in the hands of the holder.
Seen him slip and fall, civilian and a soldier.
Listens to him as he thinks. Stands by as he cried.
Looked away when words were cursed, felt warm when he saw him smile.
The night was all as usual, the holder had been gone for a few days.
He entered ,sat down at the chair, all seemed normal one would say.
First came out the flag, quite moments would follow that.
Then the photo, ring and hair, normally the holder would sit back.
This time the holder knelt by the fire and the tin soldier strained to see,
the holder cried more then usual, the tin soldier wondered what could it be.
Then came a string of curses and a rush of air,
the tin soldier was caught up in the moment, quite unprepared.
As he layed to close to the flames, he felt his time draw near.....
the final moments as he left he could see the holder clear......
So now the room is empty. The table left untouched.
The holder left and never returned, he had lost all so much.
Tin soldiers they say are a dime a dozen, funny, kind of like us.
It's how we are lined up for the play, what we see or touch... the tin man melts away...we return to dust.
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 10:28 AM UTC
Who do you call when you've been robbed?
Not of your possesions...
but of your heart
You came in the middle of the night
and stole my breath with your lips
taking my heart along with it
in return you left my world a mess
and decaying memories in my vault
unlocked
I want you to come back
to give back my breath
and my heart
I feel my lungs ache
as if there is not enough air
for me without you
as if you are the last tree
and for my survival I must stay with you
I MUST
I want my heart back too
it's essential for me moving on
for me to forget you
There is nothing that I want to keep,
I want you to take all your memories,
And the pain you left with me.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
This is how you write a poem;
First; forget everything
You ever learnt about poems,
Such knowledge should be reserved
For the minds of critics, and
Professors in dusty halls
Of universities, where
They are dissected and re-
Constructed against their will.
Second; embroil yourself in
Love; it is the only thing
That poetry is born from.
Even the saddest songs, and
Most bitter lines, are fueled
By what we once loved. Loss is
Just a love that has been lost
And anger; a love scorned. All
your words will be born this way.
Thirdly; find a quiet spot;
It doesn't matter much where
As long as it brings comfort,
Be it an old desk in a
Darkened room, or a field of
tall Sunflowers or bluebells,
Or the last place you saw a
Loved one, before fate swept them
Away to distant valleys.
Next you must make a promise to
Yourself to be brutally
Honest. Only the truth must
Be written here. There is no
Room for flowery words that
Must be thought over to much.
If it is true it will be
Beautiful, and your pen strokes
Will guide you towards greatness.
Finally, you must hold your
Writing implement of choice
As if it were the most loved
Of possesions, or mighty
Of weapons, or a child's hand.
I cannot tell you which
But you will undoubtedly
Know which when the time comes. It
Will strike you as obvious.
Upon following these steps
You will have become a
poet. From now on there
Is no turning back. It will
Consume you, and thoughts will take
You by surprise in lover's
Embraces, in sudden deaths,
Bird songs, and the words of of those
You once thought to be strangers.
Each word will be a gift to
The world, whilst remaining un-
doubtedly yours to own.
Use your power wisely.
Remember; without love
Your poems will start to
Fall into disrepair
And, without them you will
Lose your capacity to care.
I wish you well.
I wish you poetry.
I wish you love.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
I'm expressing my possesions
Trapped in other dimensions
Recreating realistic inventions
A suggestion?
I put out that "I have a question!"
Should I wait or give up before our world's perfection?
Why should I wait for mankind's progression?
I'm ready, I already dreamt the "inception....."
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 12:46 AM UTC
He passed a preacher in hazy,
Misty, London streets.
Whispering sermons
From cracked shoeless feet.
None would stoop to
Cast a passing ear,
To the words of a man
With nothing left to fear.
He told tales of love,
Tempered by the light of reality.
Love of money,
Love of greed
And all the objects of fiction
We imagine that we need.
"To each let it be known!"
"None of your possesions are yours to own!"
"Leased out for the duration of your time!"
"From house to car and from the body to the mind!"
The passers by barely noticed the guy
Who spoke from the heart
With the words of the wise.
The wisest words they would hear for weeks
Lost among the
Hazy, misty, London streets.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
Objectual attachments to material things
cars and gold and shiney rings
The less you have, the more its apparent
that these possesions leave you incoherant
Unresponsive to change
comfy in ignorance
humans are quite strange
Externally subtracted
its a fatal attraction
Internally is where we thive
looking through the minds eye
Over and through
Im done with the lies
pluralized and despised
making money that makes you cry
When you dont have enough to get by
it can be really tough
trying to eat like a heath food nut
Real soul food is love and trust
and the persuit of Happyness
from a life lived with less.
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 5:25 PM UTC
Im sitting in the sun,
soaking up all the sounds of all
the other number ones
running around
all over the ground
Tires spinning
Motors pound'n
Restlessly questless on a mission
to aquire worthless possesions
and proffessions
that educate
and fascilitate
a brainwashed race.
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 7:25 PM UTC
New gold Casio watch,
Loosely hangs from my wrist.
It hits the bottle harder than I do,
Against my best wish.
Swish of whisky down my throat.
I've never been one to boast,
About newly bought possesions.
But this watch,
This gold Casio watch is the exception.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 8:00 PM UTC
i've seen her beaten and broken
tears fall and words unspoken
each day hiding new cuts and bruises
always ready with a list of excuses
they've taught her well
her home became her hell
it doesn't get better, no way out
she listens to them scream and shout
and fists fly, stings against her skin
they say it's because she's full of sin
in school we all cast down our eyes, turned our heads
but thought of her while we were tucked warm in our beds
this sad hand that life had dealt
and no one knew just how she felt
and we all tried to pretend it away
what could we do, what could we say?
we seen it happen over and over again
but times were different then
a man's family was his own, his possesions
and no one would even think to question
why this little girl was always so sad, so scared
& hoping that maybe someone out there cared
when they found her black and blue
it was like we were waiting, we already knew
that help never came and she was gone
that sweet little girl who was left alone
i wonder now if the angels weep
for the child who sleeps?
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
It's been a long road without two of the most important males out of my life.
Timothy: The precious baby taken too soon. I imagine you learning to walk in heaven, growing in a way I will never see. My god my heart hurts thinking about your sugar plum face smiling up at me. I want to watch you grow and flurish my angel boy, my little homie as well.
Fredrick: Grandpa , Sarcastic little **** , and one of the best people i've ever known. I cry thinking about all you will miss of your families future. We all know family was on of your most prized possesions. God i wish you could have been there to aprove of my first boyfriend or to see me graduate. I miss you so ******* much it's tearing me apart.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
I wish I was a novelist
I could write this into a fairy tale
With love triumphant
While birds sing
bring me songs of simple bliss
I'm sick of something sweeter than this
I'll settle for the dredges at the bottom of my coffee cup
No need for excessive amounts of honey
I'd rather brace myself for the bitter than cover it up
So what's the purpose of money?
I mean really what does it do?
Besides turn me and you into simple creatures
I mean collecting shiny things, storing them for later
That's something the crows do
But even the crows know why they do it
They do it because they like shiny things
do you?
Do you love what you do?
Do you let it consume you?
I'd rather wake up under a bridge with a little chill in my bones
Then in a warm house that doesn't feel like home
So what about you?
Starting fires in a old coffee can, a gift from a friend you've never met
Not quite what you picture happiness to be?
Is it?
But sit down, pass that old sweater around
I'll tell you some story's
Some of the things I've seen even I don't believe
The magic of this city
It still gets to me
Subway tunnels are the damnedest things
People walking around in such close vasinity
Some of these people don't even look around
Have you ever admired the ridiculousness of it all?
What about that guy next to you?
Having troubles at home
Doesn't know if he can finish college
Not because he can't afford it
His trust fund has that settled
But he can't get that one girl in introduction to statistics to say hello
So he picks up his phone more often he used too
Just to look at it
What about the old man
The one all the kids on your block said was crazy
Have you ever seen evidence of those false claims?
Ever thought it was all just hear say?
Pass the message along
Life isn't about all the stuff we stockpile store for a later than never comes
So don't wait for life to hand you what you want you have to take it
go up and make your **** demands
Because this is not some fairy tale
This is not some song and dance
This is life and it'll knock you around
There's a few differences between me and who I want to be
I let it get to me, I fall down
And it takes me much longer to get back up than it should
But that's the key I get back up
I make a stand
I keep the crowd cheering in the bleachers
No matter how small they seem
Weather it's just God watching me, or my family
I'll keep it real
If reality keeps on keeping me
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
she's falling down
at steps first stumble
toddlers bumps
a little egghead
learning curves
rough and tumble
she's falling down
from maypoles swing
bodies flung in air
the rush in the ring
flying free no care
she's falling down
sliding into base
jumping hurdles
and sheep
to win the race
she's falling down
the rabbit hole
tied to a tree
by a monster
childhood stolen
innocence broken
at 12 years old
no longer carefree
she's falling down
bending her mind
and space
trying to reclaim
in this world
sense of belonging
longing
to find her place
she's falling down
seeking love of
that one true other
crossing off each one
from the list
as just another lover
she's falling down
as monetary wealth
status
possesions
build up
still running on empty
is true loves cup
she's falling down
she's found him
to true love led
for too short a moment
her true love
suddenly at 21 dead
she's falling down
another monster
comes knocking
life's cruel jokes
leave her reeling
and rocking
she's falling down
as she gets up again
broken faith in man
has her not knowing
where to turn
she's falling down
another lover
one loved true dies
too young
heart bursting
with grief with sighs
nots furled tight in why's
she's falling down
married in love
never felt so safe
before
til she's crawling
the halls
spitting teeth on the floor
she's falling down
keeping it tight
to herself
resigned to the safety
of life on the shelf
she's falling down
been solitudinal
a long time
secure in loneliness
lost in her own rhyme
she's falling down
he's raising her up
loving care
sweet and tender
true communication
of love
fills up at last
true loves cup
she's pulling herself
back up.
© J.C. 25/09/2019.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 7:33 PM UTC
Not to be brought about by possesions.
Though it looks like now no one understands.
Happiness lays in the trees, humming along as the leaves sway.
It forms in the sounds you hear distantly while you sit, and breathe.
Happiness comes to those who are open to it; not to those trying to force it.
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
I would give everything I have
for you to be happy
my possesions
the body that holds me
my very life
I can feel no selfishness
while wading in your sadness
waist high,
suffocating at the thought
of your tears
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 1:12 AM UTC
_If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it._
Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.
_Reason 8, Broken mirror_
No one will ever make sure the clock stops ticking.
No one will ever keep a poem as one of their dearest possesions.
No one will ever leave the pages blank if they have words to fill it with.
No one will ever keep an extinguished cigarette in their package.
No one will ever stop being afraid of the dark, so we turn into the dark ourselves.
No one will ever keep an empty bottle of alcohol in their drawers.
No one will ever stop cutting themselves when they realise they shouldn't.
No one will ever keep the light on if they can choose to close their eyes.
No one will ever love without wondering why.
_No one will ever keep a broken mirror in their pockets._
Or would you?
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 3:57 AM UTC
*vermillion
Theres is a time where we
cannot lose anything anymore.
You leave this world as you enter it
without possesions or company.
my father said that
he was fifty nine then.
yet even the maple tree
had not lost a single leaf.
I wonder if that time
is here for me now.
yet not a single
leaf was vermillion.
He was fifty nine
when he said that.
No matter what we lose
all lost things
become the same.
There is a time when we
cannot lose anything anymore.
I wonder if that time
is here for me now.
I thought he would live forever
My mother his perfect companion.
Not knowing how fragile
are the roots of life.
There is time where we
cannot lose anything anymore.
outside the maple tree is bare
its leaves now a vermillion carpet*
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC
Waking up to the sounds of bombs exploding
Everyday I drown deeper in despair
Running from guns, carrying my possesions and I
Breathing in the cold poisonous air.
Trapped by authority
This is no place for a kid to grow
As I stand here in the rain
I start to draw a Rainbow.
Given the choice between death or sea
I leave the sandcastle I built to drown
We travel for hungry months
Our flashlights anticipating, wave after frown
As I step foot into my new life
Trauma dances around in my eyes
For every breath I take here
A person in my country dies.
I am a puzzle piece with endless corners
Humanity was stolen from me a long time ago
Therefore home will remain forever lost
So I draw another Rainbow.
Dec 7, 2019
Dec 7, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC
Do we
Live in a world that we didn't even choose
Utopia, Dysphoria, War Zone?
Or stay
Safe in a place that is nestled within a womb
Placenta, Myopia, Safe Home?
Or should we
Stay in a county with possesions we own
Dictator, Fabricator, Planes drone?
Can't speak
A language that was created by us unknown
Metaphorical, Native, Foul tongue?
Is there
A Universe that we by chance could exist
Uninvited, Alien, Pesty Guest?
Or would
A world of full of boundaries let me find
A Nation, Peace, Permanent home?
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 12:47 PM UTC
with forever endless shame comes desperity
an age old curse whos result is ended with integrity
overcoming difficult challenges and making it through tradgedy is the beggining
but with a foundation of great potential will yield a treacherous journey of sinning
you can't stop it and nobody will help you
keep a cross right near for the people wont tell you
with infinite lies and horrible realities
creates flowing selflessness and standardized propriety
conformity is the way! says the political figures
and what about korea and their endless adventures
coming our way is inevitable nuclear destruction
so why should I stay in class..
and conform to your arrogant instruction
it seems like a learning center for youths
and a haven for the classmates playing kahoot
but when the flash hits slow and its officer coots
you might as well pack up and lace your boots
because you are about to experience life
life comes in variety and they are all different
some smoke **** and others stay indifferent
new colors and sights to experience
bring new joys and less time for inteference
being alive and breathing now
is much more than the meat you ate from that helpless cow
share more possesions and loosen up your laces
soon we will become nomadic and will be able to visit places
karma is always good to have if you want to win races
but yielding trust and honesty will bring smiles to all your families faces
no one could ever express the importance of fun
but life is filled with with mystery
so why not jam and strum
and grow out a man bun
or create a new handgun because its what fun
without a little pizzaz you wouldnt even fathom
that one day you'll realize your whole life was at random.
all I ask is for individual personality
and neverending anti-propriety
and hopefully someday
someone will make a reality check on society
and spark the game of life.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
Do you find yourself playing church
More often these days than not
Going through the motions
Only shaking hands with God
Working on your salvation
With religious bolts and stripped out screws
Saying I love you neighbor
But leaving out the Golden Rule
Climbing Jacob's ladder
In your multi-colored worldly coat
Holding tight to your possesions
As you hate to let them go
First in line on Sunday
Dutifully religiously
While every other day of the week
You fail to bend the knee
Your Bible always with you
On the dash or in the back
You hear Jesus loves you somewhere in there
But you're not sure of where that's at
You sing out loud in the crowd
Sometimes even raise your hands
But when they ask for volunteers
You struggle with the yes I can
You have a ton of secrets
At home hidden in a box
Letting them out when you're alone
Because you don't dare keep it locked
Afraid to give that one sin up
Do you find yourself playing church
More often these days than not
Going through the motions
Only shaking hands with God
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 7:56 AM UTC