"propane" poems
To all the goodbyes
I say goodnight
To everyone that dies
I hope it's bright
To everyone;
With a razor
Hand of pills
Tied rope
Dangling keys
Extreme height below
Finger over a light trigger
Electricity at hand
Open propane tank
Empty plate, with full glass
Stop, think about who you're leaving behind
I know my words aren't going to stop you, but just read
Did you bother to write and leave a note?
Is it worth it then?
Saying you're sorry, knowing you'll leave someone behind?
Stop. Think about why you're doing it
Do you have nobody?
Think about your opportunities that'll fly past
The chance of ever meeting someone?
Did you lose someone?
Think about if you'll actually see them again?
Being bullied?
Fight back, with whatever you have
Life shoved you down?
No, I'm not asking you to get up!
I'm telling you to get your *** into a nap
Think about all the possibilities that might not be
Think of all the opportunities and people in the future
Think of your legacy
Think of anything except the pain
Now balance the pain and everything else
Want to jump? Skyfall
Want to shoot? Paintball and games
Want to hang? Bungee
Want to overdose? Take 10% of it and party
Suffocate in propane gas, or blow up? Cook a nice meal, invite a friend or family. Surround yourself. No friends and family? Find a friend, build a family.
Want to speed wrong side of the road? Speed on the right side of the road and get carried with the wind, do it over again
Want to cut yourself? Cut off the pain and wrong influences
Electrocute yourself? Rather save electricity and watch a good movie with friends or family. Have none? Watch a movie alone, play a game online. Make friends, build a family
Want to starve yourself so you can get drunker and finally forget it all, when your liver gives in? Eat a lot more, blow off some steam at the gym and build a body that girls/guys would like, attract them and make new friends. Drink with friends.
I've tried many things, some of them didn't work out, or I couldn't stay awake longer. Create new dreams if the old ones died. Work hard for them. Achieve something
"At least leave a ******* legacy behind" is what my bestfriend, Steph used to say
"You can get out of this alive, but maybe a little ****** up, but anything damaged can be repaired" My bestfriend Josh used to say
"Life can carry you away without what you thought you needed" my bestfriend Divene used to say
Even more quotes from people I've lost in my life, so I ask you just think about it all
Still going through with it? Remember it's a one way ticket
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 7:16 AM UTC
T'was the night before Christmas
And with everything done
The kids were all dreaming
Of Christmas Day fun
The tree was completed
We had wrapped all the toys
When from the basement below
We heard a faint noise
I sprung from the couch
Took off down the stairs
On my way through the kitchen
I tripped on two chairs
I slid down the staircase
To the base of my house
And there with my shortbreads
Was a ****** great mouse
My wife followed close
And then she let out a shriek
She saw me and the mouse
And she started to freak
He nibbled the cookie
and he ran past my nose
right down my torso
Then he stopped at my toes
My wife was still screaming
The mouse didn't care
He continued his running
On under the stairs
I crawled to my workshop
Grabbed the first thing I found
A mallet for pounding
That mouse in the ground
I limped to the staircase
And I swung at the wall
I again lost my balance
And again, I did fall
I put two holes in the riser
Two more in the tread
I was gonna keep swinging
Till that mouse was dead
I broke the one lightbulb
That lit up the room
Now I was worried
I couldn't see...found the broom
I stepped on one end
Squared my self in the sack
I then heard a noise
The mouse had come back
I heard his slight skitter
As he went past my feet
He was off to the larder
For more stuff to eat
I went back to the workshop
Tripping at least three more times
I would finish this mouse
He would pay for his crimes
I grabbed for a lighter
And my large propane torch
I would hunt down this mouse
And his **** I would scorch
I lit up the propane
And I aimed at the stairs
It caught light on the carpet
And I burnt both those chairs
The flames went on upward
The stairs were quite dry
I laughed in hysterics
That **** mouse would fry
My wife had recovered
And decided to run
but, after seeing the flames
She phoned up 9 1 1
The mouse left the building
In fact, he never was found
The house burned in seconds
It collapsed to the ground
And through the whole scene
I just stood there and laughed
At the wreckage before me
And I thought, **** I'm daft
I had ruined our Christmas
And I burned down our house
Over a **** shortbread cookie
And one little mouse
The kids, they got out
And were wrapped up and warm
While I was creating
My own perfect storm
The gifts were all ruined
The house ...all consumed
And over my head
One large question loomed
If I had gone for the shotgun
And shot at the mouse
Would I be still having Christmas
And would I still have a house
My wife came on over
And she gave me a swat
She said "look what you've done"
"you great stupid ****
I learned a great lesson
and folks ...it is that
Once I rebuild
I will then buy a cat!!!
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
--Hand serenity manually entered
The automatic response system
Alerts red light blind blinking
Her excited isotopes fly, entropy askew
The 'A' stands for ready, willing and Able-bodied
Feather boa leather boy and scarlet adultery
Tucked neatly in the back of her dresser
Under bloomers and pictures of young baby boomers
--A civil masterpiece--
"I would love to," she says with a careless car crash
And a shaking ****** serial slave smile
Blowtorch full of propane and limp-action lidocaine
She cuts chronic through a slice of Hollywood layer cake
--Serves it skintight
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 6:57 PM UTC
your heart pumps kerosene
to your matchstick veins,
& maybe i imagined things,
but i remember your eyes as ember rings
& i can't wipe my memory clean
of the dingy debris--
the delicacies of your legs & knees--
this fire's not extinguishing!!
those ashes you disguise as eyelids
won't keep me from the iris
i know i'll find inside them
& i'll skim past your skin grafts
to your smoke-smothered stomach
then plummet to your flame-engraved pancreas
((scarred from swallowed promises)).
these propane x-rays
can't scan the barcodes
on the charcoals
that the holes in your heart hold
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:57 PM UTC
The bartender a europa server leaves me a shot of liquid propane.
He moves past every silver dollar forgetting about the meaning
of whskey and bull dogs.
I watch cody a young university of washington student sneek In a can of raineer beer (if he really goes there) ill never ask him.
This is how lastcall always takes place: a drunken masqerader our friend johnny
Drops his wallet and kills a shot of jager. ( are we drunk enouph yet)
I order a taco and gain three hundread pounds tonight.
Master of the pitchers. He still dreams of being a physical thearpist ( he failed trying to take over for Dyrile). His new tall order of a job makes my anticipated buzz weaker.
Im tired of these long dresses opening up and spilling all over the dance floor ( the dj warned her not to)
Our ladies still mention bach. Inside of her purse hides a mystery knovel.
Tueday means a victory at home. Every player utters pride of being a regular.
We sink the black eight ball knowing the bouncer gets in the way of ourdrunk enemies ( a red head)
He charges like arhino. Hes a animal without areason to **** But the bouncer prevents his six year jail sentence from ever happening. Bexause were all forgiven like helpless bar rags trying to dry out before the mold and mildew
contaminate our bull **** stories. We all speak easily after the brooklyn dodgers turn every blue and white hat around the five head.
He wont show us how the airforce cut his hair. Every one of his is angry patrons drink until the switch flickers the message ( crawl home bfore the cops fish with dynamite) in the ruston pqarking lot. (Searching for fake DW'S) each of themshine a britemaglite until the last car disapears still swerving like a skunk ptetending to hide in the storm gutters.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
craving intellect rain of thoughts
surroundings filled with serenity
recalling life introspectively
respective to the cores and layers of earth
positive energy and abstract propane reflection
vibrations of a hero
self-consciousness reaches selflessness
victory at the palm of his hands
grace as the structure of his body
windows of his soul as bright as the healing moon
he listens.. to the creator that never slumbers
freedom released the light worker in him
peace and blessings were a product of his faith
remincsement of the reluctant wisdom power
self-motivation inspired in his final hour
mind is as grey as the trees' shades
confort inn beginning of purity's blades
life begins. . .
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
The battle is upon us
We can finally put ourselves to the test
Memories of the past still haunt us
We fight for freedom so that our minds can rest
Easy knowing that we took a stand
Against twisted beasts of human form
I hold my blade in a trembling hand
I'm ready to weather this mighty storm
*I thought i was a man ready to protect
but now i can't even stand *****
watching my team mates feet and necks
be crushed by these mountains of dreck.
I have't even started combat but i am seeing the light
now here one comes what is the point of putting up a fight?*
Most of us won't see tomorrow
Why is Armin so frightened?
Is he just going to stand there
And get eaten by a titan?
I need to protect him
He's one of the last things I've got
And I can't let a monster dissect him
My targets locked
I'm going in for the nape
This wretched creature
Will never escape
*Without being able to solve this place's puzzle
I will my life will end by being guzzled
By a ******* belligerent beast
Only looking for its next feast
How could we have a king when these monstrosities rule this domain
Our society might all as well burst like there's a flame over propane
It is a fitting end for this monarch's curious servent
being killed by the real king for being too observant
Hey I am a king too I guess... of cowards, my friend's blood is my moat
And their pieces of the mangled bodies will be my mink coat
Now I am slipping down this demons throat, it doesn't matter who I am
***** this... Wait what is this grabbing my hand?*
I won't let him go
What lies beyond these walls?
We've always wanted to know.
How could he surrender to fear?
The look in his eyes
We can't die here.
I'll trade my life to keep his going
As I slip into the belly of the beast
My sense of urgency is growing
All I see are the bodies of comrades who have tasted defeat
The light is fading
Why is existence so bleak?
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
It smells like loneliness outside.
The smell of a hot dog on a grill after a storm,
mingled with propane and cigarettes.
The smell of solitary.
A string of “cold and broken hallelujahs”
no longer dulls the senses.
It’s senseless anyway.
I eat my brown rice in front of the sink
and I am reminded of the taste of Play-Doh.
It’s funny how loneliness creeps in on the wind,
the cars’ wheels in the rain,
the braking of the bus,
scuttling of squirrels...
Maybe a hot tea or toddy
(maybe something stronger)
will keep this autumn-ness at bay.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 10:25 PM UTC
He was not your average hermit,
he was not unkempt or *****
He camped out in the woods of Maine
for years, now, nearly thirty.
He burgled food and propane tanks
when folks were not at home.
His carbon footprint was quite small
He didn’t even have a phone.
With a high school education,
He liked living off the land
He oft” shopped” at a summer camp
but was caught on security cam.
Finally they captured him
and put him in a cell.
Now with murderers and rapists
The hermit’s forced to dwell.
His distinctive “Woodsy” odor
Keeps them at bay, I swear.
This fugitive from Walden Pond is
smarter than the average bear.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 8:47 AM UTC
Our hands our calloused.
Raised old too young,
Too much, too fast to function.
Beliefs and needs
Underestimated in light
Of the weight of life.
Unenlightened self-importance
Breeds nuisance for intelligence
Struggles are active and bound
Revised, undeniable, retractable,
Forming, foaming at the mouth
We flow truth into new strife.
For those who can see through the plastic,
We made it out alive, with luck.
I try not to think of those days when
Dripping, pouring, outward noises
Made me their benefactor in shaking off
The incandescent light from garages long since passed.
I remind myself to shower, once more
This time, with every small drag I smell Propane...
Like leaves carnivaled in a spiral moth,
But it's just the smoke from my cigarette...
So maybe it is Propane...
I find this world to be quite amusing.
My body is a temple for the act of living once.
I am not concerned with long life, I'm mortal.
Experience all and see all, and thereby
Learn the meaning behind the words
That are written in peoples' eyes
So you can be trusted, too.
As long as you can trust yourself,
You'll see the colors realign
Unlike the mother who spoke before me
I will be the father this time
Swerving, slurring, shivering.
Can you hear me? Are you reading this?
**** not away those shreds of extra skin
Always remember how cold it is for me.
Try to conceive of a place for you and I
I will be sure to be asleep when the clouds
Erupt into showers of our pure enjoyment...
I invite you, too.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 6:10 AM UTC
I think that a Bar-B-Q is an extension of a guys manliness.
Or manhood.
Now before all of you start disagreeing with me,
listen to this blondes logic.
When a man goes to purchase a grill
There are many factors a man has to take into consideration.
And they are, in this order, as follow:
1. Propane vs. Charcoal and Charcoal Fluid
2. The size of the grill
3. Rotisserie?
4. Accessories
5. Bar-B-Q covers
Let us take each consideration in turn.
Propane vs. Charcoal and Charcoal Fluid.
Propane men:
Some men want instant gratification. Twist a **** or two, push a button here and instant heat. Give it a few minutes to build to the right temperature and BAM! In with the meat. Once done, turn a **** or two and walk away. No muss. No fuss.
Charcoal men:
Other men are more inclined to take their time. savor the experience. They enjoy watching the flames build and turn into a glowing bed of meat searing heat. When everything is just right, they gently place the meat. They stand gaurd over it. Tending to it. Every once in a while poking it to test if it's ready. These same men will sometimes sit snuggled around the glowing embers afterwards. Watching the heat fade and cool. Then they will ask their woman they had served "How'd you like your steak babe?"
Charcoal Fluid And Men:
Some men should never be allowed near a Bar-B-Q that requires something to stimulate the flames. It always ends in disaster and or injury.
Size Of The Bar-B-Q:
O.K. Now this is a touchy subject for most men. It has been known to cause envy, jealousy and has broken up a marriage or two. Men think bigger is better.
When buying a Bar-B-Q , a man thinks about; cooking area, the possible need for side burners, portability, and the all important factor of presentation. That's right. How will it look to the neighbors and guests? Will they be properly impressed with it? Also, can it handle the extra meat when company comes over? Heaven forbid it should let him down and make him look foolish.
Rotisserie:
This is an important decision. Does having your meat spin make it better? I think that this is more of an individual decision.
Accessories:
Now we have reached a critical point. How to accessorize. Of course, every man needs the right equipment to ensure success. And all of the tools need to have a long reach and be durable.
Tongs, fork, knife, spatula, basting brush.
Some men even splurge and go for a flavor injector. Now that's a man who cares about his meat.
Bar-B-Q Cover:
Finally we reach the last consideration a man has to make. To cover or not to cover?
Men! Always, with out fail, should cover. It is for their own protection. And it shows you care.
Thank you.
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
The bartender a europa server leaves me a shot of liquid propane.
He moves past every silver dollar forgetting about the meaning
of whskey and bull dogs.
I watch cody a young university of washington student sneek In a can of raineer beer (if he really goes there) ill never ask him.
This is how lastcall always takes place: a drunken masqerader our friend johnny
Drops his wallet and kills a shot of jager. ( are we drunk enouph yet)
I order a taco and gain three hundread pounds tonight.
Master of the pitchers. He still dreams of being a physical thearpist ( he failed trying to take over for Dyrile). His new tall order of a job makes my anticipated buzz weaker.
Im tired of these long dresses opening up and spilling all over the dance floor ( the dj warned her not to)
Our ladies still mention bach. Inside of her purse hides a mystery knovel.
Tueday means a victory at home. Every player utters pride of being a regular.
We sink the black eight ball knowing the bouncer gets in the way of ourdrunk enemies ( a red head)
He charges like arhino. Hes a animal without areason to kill. But the bouncer prevents his six year jail sentence from ever happening. Bexause were all forgiven like helpless bar rags trying to dry out before the mold and mildew
contaminate our bull **** stories. We all speak easily after the brooklyn dodgers turn every blue and white hat around the five head.
He wont show us how the airforce cut his hair. Every one of his is angry like drini until the switch flicker themessage ( crawl home bforetheco9s fishwith dynamite) in the ruston pqarking lot.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
Powered matter leaves their origin,
Into a land in the distance,
Residing in the hearts of children
Offering everything but resistance,
Exchanging life and his riches
For the taste of blood in their kisses.
A child is a sacrifice
For what is right
In the prophet’s eyes
And minds that are blind
To the lies that bind
His cries and surmise-s.
The prophet’s prophecy
Is to gain profit from gases
More flammable that propane.
His fingers, crossed and lost,
His veins, lost its blue,
His skin, has turns chartreuse
With the sight of the new moon.
A new dawn begins
With the same sun,
Covered by new clouds.
Sounds of the innocent,
Muffled by the lead they’re
Buried in.
Their fears of growth
Disappear with their sight.
But it’s alright,
It’s in the name of Liberty,
Currency, and Democracy.
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 1:12 PM UTC
Remove the cold, clean refrigerator water
Poured into your mind to become a bit hotter.
Poison-less, diamond-faceted twinkling glitter
Internal pulse pounds, skitter and flitter.
Your propane personality flickers,
Internal heat hushed, the teapot snickers,
But now higher, higher grows your fire
Melting into you is all I desire.
Louder, louder screams the steam
Announcing inner worth below the outer gleam.
The superheated shouts squeaked out your teeth
Can't compare to the bubbling beauty buried beneath.
Trickle, pour, add some more
You're the tea that I adore.
Sometimes bitter, though discretely sweet
Just a little time and it's complete.
Closed eyed sips make my stomach glow
Melting my inner, internal snow.
And through and through, every batch I brew
I can't help falling a little more in love with you.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 9:59 PM UTC
The propane man came today.
He checked the system for leaks.
Adjusted the pilots
and checked the level of the above ground tank.
Autumn now cheeks winter
as does my life estate.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 5:41 PM UTC
I long for the heat and the rain and the green
Of the leaves as they blow in an August breeze;
With that smell of fires, and propane, and smoke, and the ocean
And the excitement of children when the fireworks light the sky.
I crave the affection of a carefree attitude,
The utter perfection of love and appreciation.
I want to listen to the sound of the days passing by
And hear my life be completed by each passing moment.
I want to lay in the grass and notice the sky,
Not for the color but for it's incredible height.
I wish I could forever remain in the clouds,
But I will surely shoot back down once September comes around.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
If all is lost,
Can it be found.
Shattered dreams may be rerepairable,
But never fixed.
Living among the great gods,
Never gurantees immortality.
I am but the only one,
Gifted with a beautiful curse.
Chained to the bottom of the sea,
But I am alive.
Tearing the flesh apart from the inside,
Never realizing that breathing numbs the pain.
We are forever destined to be,
But never on time.
A deep hole,
Is filled with blood.
As I sleep on this rock,
Guilt is in my vains.
A never ending nightmare,
It haunts when I am awake.
These scratches,
Burn like propane.
The hole is deeper,
Time has stopped.
Jokes **** us,
And now my flesh is pitch black.
I am hidden,
Inside of you.
Will we be able to return together,
From the abyss we started from.
I am covered in shame,
And soaked in my lust.
Forever dieing in your arms,
Poked with small holes.
I am not freedom,
And neither are they.
Holding onto you was the greatest feeling in the world to me,
I was lost.
Killing was only natural,
Instinct has always had full control.
I have always been aware,
And even when the end was near we were never afraid.
Always looking for focus,
Yearly losing my most effective thoughts.
And I have always been alone,
But never like this.
And I know it will end.
But you my dear will never be forgotten.
For I am infinity.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 5:24 AM UTC
Hello
H̵e̵l̵l̵ is lo
Grand Rising
Mind the Do
No Boundary -No burden Man
No Foundry -No Smoking plants
See....(d)s))
We had lived out the ghet̴̹̥̲͈̤̬̘̪͇̗̰̣̼̖͊́̌̃̆̑͊̀̉̓̓̇̋̃̈́ͅṯ̵̢̢͙̹̌̍̽̾̌̃͛̆̔̾̃̚ǫ̴͓̠̳̤͍̜̙̣̳͎͇̳̝̮̆̀̊̅͜.
( at E.) Alaska and poverty w̵̢̢͇̱͔̻̹̪̞̰̬̱̻̉̂͛̏̔̕à̷͔͕̦̭̾̿̌͗͐̕͘͠ÿ̶̝̯̲͈̪̠̥̗͈̼͔̮̖̆͋͛̓̎̍̍̄̿̽͜͠
Been smoking off sphagedro
Don't ask (me) how
the property paid
We had convinced ourselves
this was poverty made,
this was the way
it was the mental
Rather than how to properly pave...
Stop and get saved. We'd rob and rip r̴̟̗͔̣̋̽͂̑̐̍͒́͒́͘ạ̶̡̡̡̭͍̥͔̖͓̜̥͎̩͙̓͌ves
To tap into ley lines , we laid ̶l̵i̶n̵e̴s̵
to hear one another?
Why?
We fade minds to the sidelines
Existence is another mother consumed
Tripped im a land mind
everyday, it was essential
Felt like we saved lives
just by saying
Hi
Who was I supposed to be then
how am I poised to po̸̢̧̡̙̟̥͉̮͈̮͇͇̎͂͌̇̀̃͘͜͜se now?
H̵e̵l̵l̵ is empty
And all the devils are he̶͔͂̿̀re
Don't come and tempt me
And All the bedouins near
the d̵̢̨͈̫̦͈͈̦̣̯̼̔͛̔̅̾͝ͅͅa̷̼̠̱̥̪̥̗̫͖̞̱̻̻͐͒̅́̌̾͜͝r̵̡̨̼̰͉̜̝̳̥͕͇͐̅̈̍̚͜ķ̴͇̖̳̦̞̞̯̲̖̾̈͌̀̀̍̀̈́͗͗́̌͑̅͘͘can be a low hum
That low hum f̵̛̞̲̞̮̙͚̠̮̀̋̆̓͂̓̓̄̔̃̈́̋́̀̐̍͘͘a̷̛͉̭̤̩̳͓̰̦͍͕͈̥̜̣̟̥̼̍̍̃̔̇̄̈́̅̔̚l̴̢̪̮̗̺̗̭̉́̇́l̶̢̢̧̰̰̞̹̙̣̳̩̱̙̀́̏̊̓̓́͘ ̶̛͔͔͓͙̥̫̩͇̭̩̜̻̹̇̅̄͗̐́̒̂̈́͛̀͂͋̚͘ to a dull ***
*** turn silence to the doldrum̴̬͔̰̠̠̳̫̠̠̣̫̺̠̝͍͙̎̌̓̽̌͋̍͛̔̂͌͑̔̂̃̊̎́̄̈́́̕͘͘͠ͅ
** hum eve, press up the tress
the shadow be a pit fall,
mess up your knees
a void in eve become
a slow shade seed
Devoid of the needs
beckon doe ray me
its beyond whats in the fire
in the propane, key
Heating up with Sour D
Pushing to get pro-paid
(C)see)()()
Halo with the dome braid
Angel with the co-pay
Singing singles with lonely
Singing for the lonely!
When did culture become business?
When my business became the culture...
Its not a bug, its a feature,
long exposure measure
the posture of composure,
Who could torture the Rapture,
The picture is the culture
self- Suturing the Future
its a self-evident thing,
so potent it ring
Bout to help Erich architect
A co̴̡̢̰͕͈̦̲̤͖͇̯̮̬̟͍͙̥͉͍͚̳̙͕̫̣͍͓̙͓̖̮͇̼̞̗͇̺̎͗̄̇́͜rner outta the ring
carve a Stone outta the wing
Dem B̶̛̻͇̺̻̣́͑͗̑̽͐̑̍̂͒̀̇̚̚͝͝ǫ̷̨̨̭̲̪̝͎̹̰̺̈́͛̔̓̍̎͆́̉̅̊̈́̒̕͝ň̸̼̞̯̟̱͓̙͈̫͚̙͎̱̝̣̌͜͜͠͝ẽ̴͖̓͊̊͝ gotta be prouda king
But Whats the sound when it sing?
Nov 29, 2023
Nov 29, 2023 at 11:16 PM UTC
I wrote a paper in school
about ancient myths
using an old typewriter
and by candle-light,
wrapped up in a comforter
that cold winter night,
despite the propane heater
in the dining room.
All of our utilities
were shut off for months,
electric, gas, and water;
we had no money.
We were getting food-bank meals,
and making our own
candles out of reused wax.
It felt pitiful,
and in the days leading to
my paper due date
I was told repeatedly
that it must be typed.
The school library was closed
before my last class
ended, and we had some fines
at the public one.
Here's a myth I often hear,
though not learned in school,
party politics will say,
"They wanted handouts."
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
We’re all just a part of this nonchalant game,
Plotting revenge, explosives, propane.
Pretending to love and have no shame
All the while, we’re going insane.
Walking in reverse, to the beat of their drum,
Never reaching anywhere, things left undone,
Pouring our hearts out , to those who use,
Becoming so prone, used to abuse.
Hoping for a time, with much more light,
Awaiting in the darkness, on this never-ending night.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
Why is the world around me shaking and trembling
However it seems its only me
Maybe I'm just in love with the idea of love the notion of having someone beside me
A Smokey mind an ether infecting my blood
While ghost tears cause me to feel my face and wonder if its the past or current state.
State of mind of heart, of time
In the end I'm just a cliche love heartbreak and wonder poem
A child robbed of her innocent soul
A tank of propane ready to blow
A girl trembling with doubt curled in a ball
Silently screaming inside
For I might not be beautiful or smart funny or charming adorable or perfect
Why can't anyone understand and look into who I might be
I am a shape-shifting demon
Morphing into what is wanted and ignoring who it really is
Answer honestly, I beg would you miss me?
Would you miss me if I fled?
Remember me if I was dead?
Forgotten easily I must be so i'll just cry and sing and fade into the darkness and disappear in the end
I don't mean to be down but these thoughts just come around.
Nighttime they seem to manifest and in no means digress adding to the stress
The Mind is a two way street causing one to abandon sleep
At 3am the universe enters your head
Since Everyone knows crying puts you to sleep
I'll commence to weep
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Uncle Eoin walks his fields
At odd times day and night;
When I visit he's asleep,
But not his cows and sheep.
The cows low blithely,
The lambs bah lightly,
There's no cause for alarm.
He's adding on the years,
And since my Granny died,
Eoin lives on his own,
Childless and untied.
Eoin tries to maintain health
With little money
But awash in wealth.
He doesn't worry
As we do,
Being mortgage free,
Debt-free too.
He always knows
Where to eat,
His white-washed house
Still burns peat.
The stone wall fields
Mark creation's expansion,
From first to last dimension.
He rises when I call
From outside the house:
Time has little meaning,
No matter what the season.
He calls down,
Who's there?
Francie! I yell back.
You'd think my accent,
My singular name
Would tell him it was me,
So I'm surprised
When Eoin replies,
Francie who?
To me.
He rumples down
To the blue front door
That doesn't quite
Reach the floor.
Rot has eaten much.
It swings quite well,
Considering,
It's balancing on one hinge.
Eoin wears similar clothes
I saw him wearing
Years ago.
He has a robust crop
Of hair,
As thick as smithy steel,
And snow-white
And grizzly fair.
He dips his ***
Into a pail of water,
Boils it with
The tea bag in,
And stirs it with
His finger.
The mug he offers
Needs a sledge and chisel
To chip at stains
Thick as Irish thistle.
I accept resigned,
Knowing Jameson
Comes with time.
Eoin is himself again,
After tea and toast
And insulin.
He carpets his rough floor
With red-dotted slips of paper,
Used checking his blood sugar.
They're the only color
In a room,
Black with soot,
Still dark at noon.
His sitting room is 12 X 10
With an antique cooker
Not lit since when;
A string of socks above the stove,
Hard from drying, yet never moved.
A propane burner against
An outside wall
Provides some warmth in winters;
But missing window panes
Defeat the warming currents.
My stay never last too long,
An hour, seldom two,
But Eoin never leaves my thoughts
Across the miles of blue.
Don't sympathize with Eoin,
He's turning ninety-two.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
I feel like im on the verge of death..bathroom walls closing in cant catch my breath..OMG i think im going to die..I must be freaking hallucinating pain its this dope im high..please save me why God why?..I faint I spread my arms i ascend i fly..to a place i can rest ..i can sleep..i can lie..lie in the hay and smoke kush all day..why hi there super girl up up and away..oh no my highs coming down my thoughts my inner voice they drown..down down the ***** with a flushing sound..got a leaf in the pack the weeds in the back and im breaking it off from the pound..mind u i must of huffed up propane from my lighter..back in the air im a jet fighter..a fly into space and meet an alien race..they try to examine my species..plugged me with a probe that made me **** my feces...the sent made all those aliens fall to pieces..i took a whiff got up from the bathroom floor with my spliff..lit it up..took a hit..munchies on i grab a chip..just before i go in my rocket ship
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC