"postpone" poems
This is America for Petes sake
Black lives don’t matter here
They say they’re being treated unfair
But they’re the one’s drinking up all the welfare
And we even pay for their health care
Poor black folk shouting black lives matter
But they don’t matter
The only thing that matters is the fat cats getting fatter
Build a school or a jail?
In a place like Baltimore, those black kids are already bound to fail
Let’s not forget from whence we hail
We came from abroad to build this house
This was never meant to be a game of cat and mouse
They don’t know their power, so they will never see their hour
Cause you see white people are only safe when those animals scared
White people are only safe when white people are feared
When black people are teared, and on their face is smeared the blood of their ancestors, on the altar that is prepared
The altar that was broken down when we ended Jim Crow
Since then look how low our country did go
But at last at last now again we can make America great
Now again we can end any debate , about what it means to be free
Cause when Trump is in charge I’ll tell you, you won’t tell me
When Trump is President you'll put your hand over your heart for the anthem, not take a knee
When Trump is President, You’ll be satisfied , you’ll lower your fist and you’ll be
You’ll be gratified, you’ll shut your mouth and watch your people die
You’ll watch them bleed like Alton Sterling,
You’ll stand there you’ll cry
And then you’ll wonder why,
why does the color of your skin decide whether or not you win
As you kneel before me thinking about your next of kin,
ready to feel these bullets in your body as your reality sets in
This country was never your own
We brought you here as slaves, you call out for a savior but
Abraham Lincoln is dead so you can put down the phone
Martin Luther King is dead so you can put down the phone
Malcom X is dead, you see,now you’re all alone
We’ve infiltrated your culture and now that seed has grown
As we watch you destroy each other and continue to postpone anything that looks like freedom
Cause you see freedom isnt free
We gained ours in 1776
Your ancestors were still in chains but here today you celebrate with me
Thinking that you’re free
But you will never be free
Harriet Tubman freed a thousand slaves
And she could've freed a thousand more but they were cheering for Trump in his rallies
Because they can’t grasp what it means to be free
And that mere truth is the key
So we won’t say their names
We won’t feel their pains
Cause this is the United States of America , and white is right, we still hold the reigns
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
I wonder what it would be like if the tables were turned
You could have all the knowledge that I’ve learned
But hurt in a way that wasn’t earned
Swap you’re heart for one that yearns
I wonder if you hurt like the ones who are alone
The ones they would disown
A reality you can’t postpone
All the more real when you are grown
I wonder if you spent a day ignored
Feeling like who you are just makes them bored
Everyday leaving you floored
Alone in the world
Would you stand up for yourself
Or hide behind a smile
What is easier?
Facing your fears or letting the pain compile
Or you could just give up
Not give yourself another day
But that’s no solution
There has to be a better way
Some might pray
Some might run away
But you can choose to love yourself anyway
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 7:59 AM UTC
This is now. Now is. Don't
postpone till then. Spend
the spark of iron on stone.
Sit at the head of the table;
dip your spoon in the bowl.
Seat yourself next your joy
and have your awakened soul
pour wine. Branches in the
spring wind, easy dance of
jasmine and cypress. Cloth
for green robes has been cut
from pure absence. You're
the tailor, settled among his
shop goods, quietly sewing.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
I was made for abandonment.
Like a sea turtle left in the sand to hatch on her own and bravely voyage into the ocean,
Escaping her idle life in a pure, white shell for a treacherous journey into a polluted, dark ocean.
She will encounter beasts who will attempt to postpone her self-actualization.
She's alone, but brave.
She knows what she must do
With the sound of the ocean and the light of the moon as her only guides.
She pauses at the shoreline,
The tide comes in,
Sweeps her off her feet and welcomes her in a beautiful embrace.
However...
I am still struggling with the beasts who promised me an easier life
Away from the mysterious ocean;
Idle in their arms.
They led me astray before I realized that while the ocean tides change, they follow the beautiful, definite pattern of the moon.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
If I could have any ability in the world I would not want it to be the ability to stop time.
In the beginning I would use it to get work done or to get a little extra sleep before work or to get all of my tables their drinks and meals in seconds.
But it would not take long for me to start abusing it.
Suddenly I would find myself in a difficult position. I would convince myself that it was okay just this one time to postpone it just a little, to gain my thoughts, to mentally prepare but once would turn into twice. Twice into four times.
Four times would lead to eight.
Suddenly I would avoid every problem.
Every stumble.
Every single rough spot in my life would be a blink away from being paused.
Who is to say that it wouldn't become indefinite?
At some point I would become so obsessed with stopping time and avoiding every hardship that I might actually stop it
forever.
I would never let anything else hurt me
but would I smile or laugh?
I would never hold someone’s hand or wake up completely well rested with a breeze coming in my window and the smell of breakfast swimming under my nose.
The worst of it all is I would discover that in the end I was avoiding all that pain only to create on much worse;
the pain of not living.
Super powers are left to movies, comic books and my dreams yet people try to stop time
every day.
They do it by ignoring a phone call or avoiding a certain store or restaurant so they don't have to "deal" with some issue they are dreading.
But the truth is that those problems,
those things we work so hard to ignore are the best things that could ever happen to us.
If I took every negative thought and experience and eliminate it from my history, would I really be any happier?
Would I even know what happy is if I didn't know what it was like to be sad first?
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 11:01 AM UTC
The Weary, they wander
Tempest-tossed
Onto my
Lonely shores,
Sailors with
Shipwrecked vessels,
Travelers grim with
Soles scraped sore
They seek to quell
Their solitude
Ill fated and alone,
And finding me
Beside the sea
Lamenting,
They postpone
I welcome them
With flames alight
Inside the hearth
Of my heart
Although I know
They never stay,
That soon they will
Depart
Every time that
One arrives
The feeling sprouts
Anew
He'll leave me
And I know it,
But there's nothing
I can do
I am Calypso, cursed
To long for love
That is unchanging
No solace rolls in
With the tide
The tempest, still,
Is raging.
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
Here, I sail to regions unknown.
On the tides of bliss, you are shown.
Your sweet strokes can calm my heart.
As fear and pain depart.
How the sun is dim to your smile.
West winds blow as I dream of the Isle.
For one day, we will lock our hands.
Upon the golden sands...
Writhe and roar! Sea and tempest grow!
Rise, my Dutchman! Rock to and fro!
Set the sails and man all the helms!
Postpone our journey's end.
Death ascends upon the throne.
As wild as I am alone.
Come to the sea, and cut through the waves.
Hurry to your watery grave!
And my love, who can't be restrained.
I will vow that I'll make you pay!
Drag them, bind them, take their souls!
And hear the death bell toll!
For my love, I gave you my heart.
So that we will never part.
Forever you were my always.
I'll set the sea ablaze.
How I've dreamed we'd meet on the lands.
Words of love have crumbled to sand.
For years, I drown with misery.
I want my liberty...
Unlike you, my heart isn't chained.
Hear my ***** feel my pain!
Lost and cold, my heart knows no rest!
Within this dead man's chest...
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
*Our earth has turned
Our lives are torn
We are able to see light no more
If only for a second we shine bright
We are reminded of our destiny
That of which is death
We strive to survive
We strive to stay alive
Being surrounded with demons of flesh and bone
Demons who are torn
Tattered
Look defeated but are actually reborn
Reborn through blistering scorn they rise
Their numbers are growing
We do nothing for god is showing
Showing his hatred for our kind
Showing his secret and sacred mind
We scream
We cry
For he gives no sympathy
We scream
We die
For he gives no sympathy
They feast off our loved one's limb by limb
We hear their screams as he dies
As she dies
No goodbyes
Just demise
Torn eyes
Black skies
Reaching at us from above tearing our hope from our chest
Our dreams as we rest
Our lives as we suppress
Suppress who we once were
For that is no more
Only for so long can we hide our screams
We will be found
We will be desecrated
Piece by piece
Our mothers torn and brothers death through scorn
Our wives see blood and flesh before being reborn
Now one of them they fight it but only postpone
Postpone the inevitable
The inevitability of turning
Turning from who you once were to a demon
Your birthdays
Weddings
Memories become waist
As you see through the devils eyes you hunt to feast
Inoperational your emotions become
Through the eyes of evil you become ****
No way out
Our end has begun
Our god has given up
On our petty existence we call success
Given up on the killing
The thievery
The ****
The pedophiles
This is why we die
This is why black takes our sky
Why evil is now his ally
Why we are ripped apart before we depart into hell
We become the hatred we once rebelled
The hatred we once repelled
Your children ask you why
Ask you why we have to die
You look into their eyes knowing they will once too be deleted
Deleted from existence
The tattered flesh and blood is insistence
Insistence of his wrath
While we beg to his knees
He returns to his kin with this disease
This plague
This is why we hide
The conquering he takes with pride
Vague emotions to hell we ride*
***This rapture has become our end
This rapture has become our end***
-Joseph B Schneider
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
God made us brown so we'd be hard
to spot upon his fertile soil,
to hide from the birds...which he made as well...
to cower, dodge, to postpone hell.
But slug does not hide, or flinch back.
His coat? Uncompromising BLACK.
He turns defence into attack.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God gave us shells to weigh us down.
Without them, we would HURTLE round,
so common sense suggests. Who'd beat us,
across a distance of ten metres?
But slug, dear slug, you have the grace
to not rub freedom in our face,
to slow your stride to match our pace.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God made us quiet, thoughtful, wait.
He taught us manners, and restraint.
He taught us not to stay out late,
we're model garden citizens.
But slug, he DEAFENS when he speaks!
He goes out seven nights a week!
Beer-swilling, hard-living, party beast.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
I'd sell my soul to be like him.
Vacate my shell, and dye my skin.
I'd go twice weekly to the gym,
if doing so would let me in
to doors in town that say 'slugs only.'
But slug accepts no fake, no phony.
I'll love, but I will never be
a slug – oh glorious slug.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 5:12 AM UTC
The Rhyming Shuffle
Feeling all alone,
life is on postpone.
No one seems to care,
time is now to beware.
Stick me with a fork,
in my *** is a scented cork.
Farts smelling like a rose,
watching bodies decompose.
Climbing up Jacob's ladder,
peeing a lot cause of my bladder.
Calling me an Uncle Tom,
shaving my hairy palm.
Addicted to Candy Crush,
brain turning into mush.
Tired of always snapping,
I deserve some ***** slapping.
Grass is always greener,
with the little old lady from Pasadena.
On board the love boat,
left me with a sore throat.
Saving money is impossible,
spending is just unstoppable.
Writing rhymes is all I know,
all my ducts are in a row.
Going fishing without a pole,
one to many hits from my bowl.
Dying of old age,
took my final bow,
on the center stage.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 2:12 PM UTC
Postpone not a good deed due to laziness
That temperament will spoil your mission
Always punctually execute your decision
This will help you a lot in life and business
Any good intention must be soon acted upon
Before your mind makes a negative move
Your worth, only your deed will finely prove
Wisely use the opportunity before it is gone
While taking steps, difficulties will crop up
But, we should not lose heart feeling diffident
We must face all the blocks feeling confident
Without playing, how to aim for the golden cup?
Life means only problems and lots of troubles
Happiness may show its face occasionally
Our happiness alone must triumph finally
Due to will-power, troubles become bubbles
Concentrate to achieve the desired result
Let determination be exercised in full swing
Glory and success, only hard-work will bring
Efforts alone tie achievements to one's belt.
mvvenkataraman
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
This is what you do to me:
Keep the thoughts coming like waves, I get paid,
but even if i was broke, I could live off of just knowing you.
Your image; God Given.
Im Cristal sippin’;
Having dreams;
Seeing visions,
Comparing you to an image;
Of angels.
Caught in the game and it’s one I can’t postpone.
Because it’s you that I really want, im just in hopes that you will know.
Come to your senses.
They say it’s senseless;
I keep writing about you,
But they don’t know.
When you’re really in love,
Just got to let her go.
And if her love matches your love,
Then you’ll forever know.
And grow together, saying promise after promise.
I try to hide it,
But I just can’t conceal it.
Kerosene heart pumps your name through my veins,
To my brain, on my mind, is where you stay – all day.
Showing no emotion.
But as sensitive as ever,
When your name is spoken,
I go insane.
& this has got to be my longest crush ever,
And if we ever get together,
We’d be together for-ever.
But knowing it isn’t ever,
Remotely possible.
But is it plausible to dream?
I can’t hit the pause button on my dreams.
… And so here I am,
Lying here – without you.
Everything I ever written is – about you.
Thinking; how right the world would feel if this dream was real.
You could transform my dark to light.
… But it’s just another night.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
Just a random poem To postpone my english essay,
I guess it's not very good but I'll upload it anyway,
I guess I should tell you a bit about me,
Very nerdy, curly hair, I need glasses to see,
People think they know me- think I'm easy to judge
but they don't, and well, I don't hold a grudge.
I'm the unpopular girl who everyone talks to,
I look quite happy, but you don't know the heartbreak I've been through.
My poems are mixed, but mostly sad.
I guess I should stop writing now- this is getting quite bad
My punctuation isn't good, although I'm getting A's and A*'s,
My head is always in the clouds, I'm maturer than my friends by far.
I'm going to stop writing- so you can move on,
I'm EllaUmbrella and this is my song.
Dec 4, 2009
Dec 4, 2009 at 6:52 AM UTC
It may be impossible to perfectly portray,
How joyfully you walked the meadow away.
To sit against your reading tree on a beautiful day,
Oh, the words of love I could not bring myself to say.
How close might we have grown?
If in that moment I had known,
To kneel, to beg God to postpone --
An illness unseen, a fate unknown.
As your head -- fell to rest,
I thought no other could be so blest.
As to nap in the place they loved best,
Though your heart lay idle inside your chest.
There, in the meadow - beside your tree,
Is where I placed a rose for thee.
For it was your favorite place to be,
And where I keep you in my memory.
When you came near I always fled,
My heart felt love, while my brain saw red.
And now my hands hold my head,
'I love you, my lovely dead'...
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
Came home late To postpone the hate To forget the wars That is behind closed doors. To forget the hurt To forget the pain But it doesn’t matter I got it all the same The door has closed in the night And the feelings gave me a fright For he kicked me in the head Told me he would make me dead Yelling kicking screaming Saying why is I so late “your grounded get to your room. Picked myself up from the floor And wiped my bleeding lip Held my hands on my side Another broken rib Stumbled on the stairs It hurts and I am numb Closed the door in my room And reached for the gun BANG ! I took my life I am not prisoner her now As my soul floats to heaven I am finally free now
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
A Moth rests on your nose for your solace,
Disoriented by anxious breaths instead.
Still your lungs.
Postpone your life for another’s,
an insect that lives for an average of three days is worth
more than you of eighty years.
It has less time to live and
So is forced to live each nanosecond as its minute.
Hold your breath for a second and give it thousands of moments
To study the purpose of your pores, the nature of your nostrils, the message of your mouth.
It is a blessing that one who has such a blink of a life should choose you.
Its tentative, exploring antennae acknowledge your existence
For that moment
You are its universe.
You
Are the mountains, and underwater caves, the forests, the savannah, the tundra, the planets.
You
Are the suffocating suburbia, the twitchy towns, the neglected neighborhoods, the seductive cities.
You
Are sighing waterfalls, lighthearted hills, free-spirited skies, heartwarming dreams.
If god was the universe,
Then you’re set for heaven.
Except
The Moth flies away
Leaving you to take its place.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:59 PM UTC
*I could lie, and lie hard, about looking,
And looking hard for the perfect blue,
A certain force of blue that castles
The white sand beaches of the South,
Of the Visayas region, somewhere
In your eyes, beloved, while they only echo
The whisper of that brown coffee blend
You infinitely adore, or that proud tan missing,
Always missing out on a red bikini.
But my heart can't nor simply can't.
There's this something about my lineage
That resonates within me, that my soul, wet,
Would always want to travel back
Like a driftwood drifting back.
I do not demand the burn nor the fire.
I am completely fine in smoke, shadowing you,
Shadowing me and the scars,
Making love, perpendicular,
Out of a night perpetual, and postpone sleep
Over our mutual moon beaming.
There is none left for silence, but us,
Only our lives. (Listen.)
I can't help but love that eloquence,
Your tenderness, a roof
Out of your hands. Your comfort
Is where I rest and wake up to.
Say something, anything, for it speaks,
And is pleasure, a poetic treasure,
A novel or a story. I love the way
You nag. Be candid for me,
And especially for you.
I would enormously love to burst
In a quiet laughter, simply because someone
Made me so with a crafty subtlety,
In me, from the inside out.
I would trade my poems for a woman like that,
Like you, and I would love a kiss,
A kiss for all of that.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
"Waiting to live tomorrow is the greatest folly — live wisely with what you have today; needless worry about the future is pointless."
💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞
To postpone life for some imagined tomorrow
is the truest kind of foolishness.
Hold today with mindful hands —
worrying for a future yet unseen steals your present.
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 12:02 AM UTC
Tribute to my childhood hero
Joni Mitchell
The album covers beaten
The player old and worn
The needle barely tracking
From all the scratches borne
Upon the vinyl surfaces
Of albums that were stored
Unlocking wonderous worlds
Of music I adored
I would lie in cloistered darkness
To hear a voice so sweet
There I'd usher in the nighttime
To worship at her feet
Struck by earthy lyrics
But somewhat strange
Unearthly tunes
To trace with disconnected fingers
The most sensitive of wounds
How sad that good songs
Unsung heroes
Like "Morning Morgantown"
Wouldn't live forever
To "buy your dreams a dollar down"
Recall "Big Yellow Taxi"?
You can rest assured I do!
And "Ladies of the Canyon"
And her epic album "Blue"
Most folks recall a song
Entitled "Both Sides Now"
'Bout clouds and love and life
But they do not know
Her poetic expression
Unearthed deep jazzy riffs
Elitism. Hypocrisy.
And "Summer Lawns" that "Hissed"
At the pinnacle of greatness
Her album "Court and Spark"
Will always be a touchstone
For purity in art
A deeply troubled woman
At certain times in life
Loving truely... deeply
In the "Industry" meant strife
A versatile genius
Her lyrics resonate
Fot the very thing that scarred her
Also made her great
---
At times I'd sit and ponder
A self-inflicted crime
But I would postpone the act
To hear her one last time
Her songs touched me so deeply
Places only she could know
With her voice to guide me
I found a place to go
She became my inspiration
My metaphor. My muse.
Joni Mitchell told my heart
To write of its abuse
I aspire to higher standards
A perfection as it were
And should my work be recognized
I owe it all to her.
Though endlessly I search
For perfect sense of art
It's brought on by
INPERFECTION
But a kind and loving heart.
What I saw in her self portrait
Was a humble, gentle face
She was the greatest mentor
a human life could grace
SoulSurvivor
(C) 10/14/2014
Rewritten
(C) 7/17/2015
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
London. January. 7:45pm
A bench possessed by a single gem
Thinking obsessing over a single thought.
Of the last argument they ever fought.
The saxophone player blowing his tune.
His only audience the shining moon.
Trying to earn some last needed dough
Wondering why he even puts on this dumb show
The other street acts already home
Now he stands, alone.
Southbank market nears to an end
Time runs out between two friends.
The spark has gone- the light is out
Now every mind is filled with doubt.
Her mind starts to wander as she contemplates
On all the things she has to complicate
A kiss, a hug, a humorous lie
Did they even try?
Her eyes start to fill with the water of a tear
She fails to keep her mind clear.
She stands up and leaves
Walks away.
She doesn’t know where she’s going
Or why. Or how. Or how long she can postpone
But she still walked. Alone.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
For you to understand your self-destruction
must I demonstrate
sweet sugary ellipses
to help initiate dreaming
but what if I postpone
and begin to
talk of inanimate objects
ramble meaningless words
would you call me
as I continued
while you goodbyed
must I demonstrate
force fear upon your intestines
for your eyes to open
from your ellipse induced daze?
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
Once there was a man who had only one friend.
Every day, just before the demise of a cyclamen orange burning ball on the horizon ~ he swam to the shore, waving with a magnificent tail, blowing bubbles and bundles of water and air into the wide open skies.
Under the darkening heavens, he sang the muffled song. Tempting his beloved. . .reaching magic, farther then any sonar's ability. Abnormal coldness froze Icelandic Beauty. But beneath the surface, life was warmer without wars. Dwarf seals were jumping into the laced ocean; trying to cry each time they were cut off the Earth's gravity.
This Mighty friend of an old man, was his only link to the global world. The man was old-fashioned; had no telecommunication facilities, his radio were gulls, stray cats, shepherd dogs and sheep on a green hill, behind his wooden hut.
Sometimes he looked over his shoulder, only to determine whether his elderly donkey is able to follow. . . or do they both need a little rest, just to postpone the books from the saddle for later and spread the beautifully ornamented Indian carpet under the great great grand olive tree ~ to take a reviving little nap in the shade.
When he woke up, the old man lit his wooden pipe, puffed few beautiful rings of indigo smoke, smirked to a buzzing bee and found that the air is still pure enough. The pressure was normal, the wind was playing with wave foams in the neighbouring bay.
Under the olives, hanging from the tree canopy, the quietness was fulfilling the old man's heart. Motionless peace was heard. Tranquility.
And the motion of a Humpback Whale. Leaving.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Scrambling to get to the 81st floor.
Outrageous? Yes. But who could ask for more.
My coffee spills as I fly through the office door.
But it's worth the price, I can't live poor.
My office is the best. $10,000 conference table, oak cabinets, view of the financial capital of the world.
Five assistants, three for my organization, one for coffee, and the other is best kept secret, so the wife does not find out.
I make more than I can spend, yet all expenses are paid for.
Some might call me lucky, I disagree, I call myself hardworking.
Some might call me lucky, I disagree, word came in that my flight tomorrow morning will be postponed.
This means that I will have to postpone my meeting with my biggest client. But it's ok, because he needs my business.
I guess I can come in to work tomorrow morning.
It will be one more step to the top, to become number one.
As my calendar reads September tenth, two thousand and one.
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 7:19 AM UTC
rickety minutes twitch in wood stained cabinets;
mittens in a bin . birch tones postpone in mauve
twilight... an unfinished diorama.
clandestine. a small glitch in a good rain... cabbages
smitten in mist. a thirst groaning; long bones caw
fully reclined... as timeless Brahmans.
old beams of light stack like gold bricks in a humidor;
mittens in a bin. black birds comb rogue stones then.... [ pause ]
triffids... blemish barnacles.
crystalline. a ball of lint in a storm drain... vanishes -
bitten out of sight. at first, toning old gongs... wind
chimes... earth's most wanted.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC