"recommends" poems
Last week we decided to just be friends
Even though I like you and you like me
It’s clear that now, friends is all we can be
Our union is something no one recommends.
We’re too polar, for even our own pretends
Your Aquarian audacity
Coupled with my religiosity
We just don’t mix well, there are no “depends”
As we share our brains through books and music
We also share philosophy on life
Though to be “together” would prelude strife
Our contrasting faiths may seem ironic
But such conflicts will bode cuts like a knife
'Guess I rather would keep this platonic.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
hole in the sky. tap tap, the empty vessel flows out. a weightless sink. the hour goes, blaring swell of humidity, and the jug lukewarm, leaven oft in the barred space. I return to my room. I drink the cold milk on the sill. I finish the third wretched spill of the journey to Olympus.
Downstairs a howl, a wind slam SOLOM OBSERVATIONAL MATRIX STRUCTURED TASKS AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY TO ASSIST WITH INSTRUMENTAL DECISIONS. I close the door I close the door I close the door I close the
In this uneasy slumber, the bed shakes, the windows rattle, the sky splits, the earth floods a red simpering capitulatory spasm of earthly flesh. Here is the circuit, the tired nervous tic of inaction, I shrink back from the outstretched hand, a condition which recommends two pills in the morning to mask the double image beneath my hands.
i have slept through the week again, this pathetic flesh obeys nothing, where are my pills inescapable ******* dullery
THE JUG IS HOT. I return to my room. I close the door two pills on the sill to go down with the milk
THE DOOR SLAMS GALL BUCKLING FIT ODE BREATHLESS CLOSER CLOSER CLOSER BUT THE SOUND REMAINS
Figures muffled by the walls. There are guests in the house, the looming presence of multiple species with incomprehensible intentions. In a bout of uncharacteristic curiosity, I slip my sight through the crack of my door. UNDER RCG IT WILL BE MANDATORY FOR ALL CUSTOMS CARGO REPORTERS IN THE AIR SEA AND ROAD INDUSTRIES TO SUBMIT REPORTS TO SARS ELECTRONICALLY. I am unmoved by such perceptions. I prepare the final climb to Olympus.
the cyclone is ended. the front door is barred. the jug is cold. the yard is littered with unmoving shapes.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 11:19 PM UTC
These days, it seems everyone wants you to visit a counselor.
Which charge by the hour just to hear you speak.
And hardly solving anything.
Judges recommends it.
Mental experts recommends it.
Having you think they part of the profit business.
When they are in need.
You hardly see the same thing said.
Like you need counseling.
To get to the bottom of your inner problems.
Long before bad things happens.
The problem makers knows they operating on worse behavior.
Even before they get help and get medication.
Oh, yes.
You need counseling for all addiction.
According to whoever speaking.
And they love to even explain.
When sometimes it's a normal thing.
If you a lover of many.
They say, you needs to be love.
That it's something missing when you was growing up.
When in truth.
You're just a physical provider sharing your favor.
Experts, would even apply this theory considering David and Bathsheba.
Cause many things in the world.
Is exposed in the scriptures.
But, we won't go there.
Still, you need counseling.
If you love cars.
If you love hard.
If you love money.
If you love your honey.
If you love your job.
More then you do your man or woman.
You need counseling.
If you turning tricks.
Except when it's legal in some states.
If you love being a thief.
Unless it's apart of your occupation trade.
We won't name them....
But they could be a politicians.
Or a wall street investor.
Two of the world best criminals.
But, who works well with one another?
Because the support of one helps the other gets elected.
And you hardly ever hear.
You need counseling.
I wonder why?
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
I am the bobby pins and hair clips you find in corners of your room, on your dresser, or behind your bed.
I am the pictures on your wall that I made when I was once manic.
I am the crumbs you find in your bed that was once my “three or four nights a week bed” which I used as a table.
I am the cafe where we met, and kept meeting.
I am day drives to no where.
I am the Middletown train station before the movies.
I am the mint lotion that keeps the bugs away.
I am the notes I would leave you, that found their way on your wall.
I am the bandaids.
I am that strand of medium length brown hair you will find in your shower
I am that guy, from trivia at that other cafe, that I wanted us to be friends with.
I am the hands that would unlock your locked pointer finger.
I am that key on your key chain.
I am the leftover tea that is always too hot for me to drink, and is left near your bed.
I am ice cream with CHERRIES, and edamame.
I am the sheets on your bed.
I am the downing film theater when you needed to feel better.
I am New Jersey.
I am the reason Netflix recommends Independent dramas with strong female lead. I am the netflix.
I am the stain on your mattress.
I am the drool on your pillow.
I am the sugar in your cabinet above your roomates whiskey.
I am all of the groceries and dates I paid for.
I am all those pictures of me on your phone which made their way to your computer.
I am the light wash boyfriend jeans.
I am that bottle of wine that sits with all other bottles, that you see when you walk out of your room and into the kitchen, and out the door.
I am the reason you once felt content.
I am the reason the corkscrew sits on that stool.
I am the reason why your toothbrush is wet, before you use it.
I am the two red sharpie marks left on those sheets that I got us.
I am mexico. The trip to mexico that could have almost seemed doable.
I am the sent of oils which remind you of hippies.
I am the shoes left at your door, or the teavana jug of tea in the kitchen right now.
I am the fourth of July. I am that pool we never swim in. I am the projected films on the fence.
I am the talker, the thought keeper, the fighter, the writer.
I am Sensual Amber
I am UBE
I am my legs on the wall when I dry them.
I am the tiny pills on your dresser.
I am just someone your next girlfriend will be better than.
I am the bobby pins.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
Let's say,
you're an apple,
but you'd rather be a pear.
The internet recommends
phoning the produce gods,
in hopes of being replanted.
However, there's a catch:
it's a collect call
to another dimension.
And so you sulk and rage,
and pretty much bruise your skin,
until it dawns on you:
Wormholes are
spacetime's phone booth,
and it just so happens,
you're full of them!
Yes indeed!
Going bad never felt so right...
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 11:44 AM UTC
Tasting poisons a friend recommends
Saying that it's a must
While this liquid crumbles my insides and turns them all to dust
As my trust dwindles from the word
The word that brings tears to my eyes
The word they call gift, that is actually curse
And a word that I've come to despise
Look within and see an ending, a note that says simply "no"
Watch sorrow leak out till I am hardened inside
And see in this dust that hatred grows
And flows, and grieves, and rages, and bleeds,
And scream that I am so tired
That my light is dim, I'm hanging by a thread, and doused is my fire
Yet here I stand with poison in hand and all the world demands
So with bottle in hand I drink
Believing this chase will bring an end to this race, and try to change the way I think
And here's a toast to worries and woes
And the "will she call" and the "will she care" and the "why do I?"
And again and again and again, I come in, yet no blue comes to these skies
Till I'm dead. Hardened. Fearful. Angry
A shell of the man I once was
The pushing and shoving of a conforming world leaving me hollow because
Love is poison, make no mistake
Love is a poison from which we all wish to dine
And the more ill we get, with problems and frets, the more we drink and in time..
We as we once knew ourselves... are gone.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 4:00 PM UTC
feels liberating
these little first world problems
resolved by unsubscribing
from an annoying mailing list
or deleting an aged account
that is useless, created on a whim
filling in-boxes with spam and junk
killing social media links,
paring back digital presences
all with the idea
of spending less time farting about
more time creating, living, reading
but they **** you back
with 2 for 1 deals, 10% off,
free for a month, look we’ve added
some **** and yeah, it costs more, but
our life will be better with it
so the rest of the night
is filled with creating spam filters
more unsubscribing, more account deletions
until someone recommends you sign up for
the new revolutionary internet saviour
the be all and end all of all your woes
it will make you stronger, faster, more
organised, less likely to drink yourself
to sleep each night, give you the power
of 10 rhinos, and the ****** prowess of
a puma!
probably best to disconnect now
turn off the router, unplug the modem
get your **** the old fashioned way
before they tie your nervous system
to the silicon pathways
and advertise to your dreams
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 8:23 AM UTC
She has no qualms with the status quo.
She wants little more than a family.
The white picket fence,
the red painted door;
that whole idyllic suburban fantasy.
Just that, and nothing else.
She feels it's all she needs to be Happy.
A cozy pleasant house,
and a perfect little family.
She wastes no time on iconoclasts.
She thinks they're silly and make her laugh.
Never been one to be impressed by taste.
She'd rather have a humble man
with an honest face.
The doctors said the chances were slim,
"but stranger things have happened still . . ."
Not a candidate for contraception.
She'll never have to go on The Pill.
Her standards have changed in light of the news:
Nevermind prince charming; wit, grit, or being wooed.
She's got her dream and intends to follow through.
She's just chasing a miracle.
All those men caught up in the latest health trends;
"That's your best bet," he says -
that's what her doctor recommends.
She swallows her pride and takes them for a ride,
all the time hoping for a godsend.
Prince Charming is the last thing she needs.
Any chance at true romance is something she could do without.
She's just looking for potency,
and a very high ***** count.
She's okay with ending up as a divorcee,
a single mother - even a widow.
She's willing to go through whatever it takes.
She's still holding out for her miracle.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
And we showered in prison sized cells,
white tiled and PVC clad,
the B&Q; recommends it!-
hells.
And we died in those showers
that were prison sized cells,
white tiled and PVC clad,
doors-are-broken-again-
hells.
And we were saved by the
eat again yellow doors,
peering through blind black windows
into the clear streets at dawn.
And they yelled with a siren mouth
***** blue profanity and
you left your mark with a ****** white tee,
wet with the water that
hurtled down from the
shower head, unclean and *****
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 12:26 PM UTC
It's time...
It's come...
I didn't do this for myself...
I didn't do this for the money...
I've made a lot of mistakes, gotta understand my life isn't so funny, when I get mad, scribble it down on the page, and like to just laugh, I know it's not enough, but it works, it's got its perks, now I got a chance, believe me I can't where we at, God put us here for a reason, now it's my season, this music you're feeling, my reason being to give this passion a lashing, a beating, a thrashing, understand it, it's not a spliff I'm passing, sick feelings just beat it, you see it I might be sick in the head, believe it, believe that, I don't want your respect, I don't care if you're asking and in the end it's never the cheques I'm cashing...
Both of us see it...
I want to believe it...
I want to accept it...
Our roots have spilt...
You'll never be how far I can see...
You better know...
You better believe me...
Now take a deep breath, need to focus on my strengths, while I write these lines with depth, losing the fight at night, can feel it in my head, instead of mourning I look to the sky instead, praying one day I can look ahead, to a time where I'll never be misread, that's what he said, I'll just be the reject, the unusual suspect, in effect I'll never be perfect, maybe I'm just been indirect, outside playing with the friends in my head, don't believe a work he says, wind in my hair, take my last breath, stand tall it's what he recommends, caution tape is my final rest...
long way down; better clear my head... take the decent...
"Believe me"
he said...
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
“There’s a museum of *** around the corner”
“A what?”
“A museum of ***
A lady hums a melody on the bus to Queens, I lean in and listen to her quietly, but don’t say a word.
Crowds choke avenues as protestors call out the police. The police surround them. The irony of being protected by the same force that destroys is not lost.
Rain puddles on the black cement, I notice how soft the yellow water is in contrast with the harsh taxis.
A stray glove sits lonely on the subway stairs, useless without its other half.
“This entire factory used to be covered in graffiti, the city keeps painting over the art”
A snotty waiter recommends watery wine that costs an arm and a leg, he snorts when I don’t tip.
At a flea market a lady assures me this moonstone will “cleanse me,” I lost it rushing off to midtown.
The lights twinkle like flecks of gold against black stone and I realize night is never night here.
My guy tells me he doesn’t like me in the city, I tell him I’ve never liked myself anyways.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
I am a book.
But not the type of book you eagerly pick up and open the first page anticipating excitement and wonder.
I am the book that sits on the bottom of the library shelf, eventually accumulating dust.
The one that occasionally gets picked up, but soon put back down because the cover looks boring, or you think the story will be stupid and monotonous.
I am that book that no one recommends.
The one that is literally forgotten, just waiting to be welcomed into oblivion.
The few people that picked up my book made me hope they wanted to read my story.
But they did not.
They only wanted to rip out my pages.
You all know what I am talking about.
You all know that one book you eventually pick up one day.
Not because you wanted to,
but because you were either forced to by your english teacher, or because you were alone and needed something to do.
I am the book that you cringe when you look at the first page, feeling that it is going to be a long and painful read.
Yeah, that is me.
But then you finally read the first page.
Then chapter.
Then another.
You get to experience every aspect of the book.
The joy.
The loss.
The love.
The sadness.
As you go on, the book turns out to be something amazing.
That book you thought you knew, you never knew at all.
It made you test your mind in ways you never thought a book could.
It made you feel an inexplicable love for it.
It made you wonder why you never picked up the book earlier.
I am the book you think you’ll hate reading.
The book that’s gonna sit here waiting to be opened
and hoping to be liked for who I am and not what I look like.
I am the book that looks like nothing special.
But I promise you.
When you open the first page.
And read a few chapters.
You’ll discover…. Something truly beautiful.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
Twenty eighteen has come and gone,
And all I can say is, What a year!
That twenty nineteen will also be
Just as crazy is crystal clear.
Mass shootings once again
Shook the country, taking a toll
On all of us, and yet very little
Has been done about gun control.
Always the center of controversies,
Trump again tried to assuage
The public by pleading ignorance
When Stormy Daniels took center stage.
Then we learned that Trump had paid
Hush money to flings at least TWICE
In hopes to secure his chances of winning
The twenty sixteen election. How nice!
A lot of Trump's team have left
Through the admin's revolving door,
Always mired in controversy.
There are bound to be many more.
Trump has proved he loves his tyrants
More than he loves our allies and friends.
Ignoring advice from experts, he'll do
Whatever Putin recommends.
Hurricanes caused major flooding;
California was ravaged by fires.
Yet dire warnings go unheeded
By stalwart climate change deniers.
The separation of families seeking
Asylum showed a callous side
Of Trump and his team, whose inhumane
Actions cannot be denied.
Year two of investigations…
Manafort, Gates, Cohen, and Flynn
Are talking more, while the walls
Around Donald Trump are closing in.
Meanwhile Trump continues to lie.
There's no end to his subterfuge.
How many lies? Eight thousand?
And Giuliani plays his stooge.
Kavanagh got a Supreme Court seat
After a sham investigation,
Which shows how Trump maintains the belief:
What's good for Trump is good for the nation.
November saw a welcome blue wave
Sweep through the House. Such a delight!
This should end Nunes' obstruction
Of justice. There will be oversight!
We lost three prominent people:
Barbara and George Bush and McCain.
Very few members of
The old Republican guard remain.
Trump cannot stop harping on
His WALL--a waste of money and time.
With our crumbling infrastructure,
Building his "wall" would be a crime.
What will the New Year bring forth?
Perhaps an indictment? Perhaps an arraignment?
Since Trump loves to be the star,
THAT'S what I'd call entertainment!
-by Bob B (1-1-19)
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 12:56 PM UTC
Clouds of Coffee raining down upon us all at five dollars a drop
Making my addictions more enthusiastic to never want to stop
Take a pill, numb the pain, and forget we are all not the same
Concentrate on your brain and forgive those who are to blame
The forecast, predicts a chance of grapefruit sized Hail
Mary, full of grace, recommends covering thy face
Down, take shelter now, the storm has now reached Gale
Force winds to change their mind, time, and place
To be, in the moment, is to graciously wag your own Tail
Spin as fast as you can and enjoy the storm chase
Whether we can or whether we can't, the dust will eventually settle
Whether we plan or whether we chant, rust will inevitably **** metal
Weather we change, and ignorantly turn a collective, cold shoulder
Whether we change, and choose to actually get wiser, not just older
So if life is in fact it's very own amazing book
Let us hope it's a choose your own fate
I'm just worried before we get a real clear look
No time for reading, just a little too late
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
bring her an ensemble,
brioche and cafe au lait
'À la manière des Français'
an unexpected surprise,
on a weekend
Sunday-in-bed-celebration
the messenger, me,
recommends le dunkin',
insertion of the bread into
the morning liqueur pre-sipping
"I don't like wet bread"
she states officially,
in tone strident and reproving,
even gravelly gravitas-aly,
and to me-self, inside thinking,
softee softee...
*what other dark secrets doth this ***** harbor?*
march 26 2017 10:11 am
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
solange say self care be a safe space.
a place to love.
to not deal.
months into therapy and i have not begun to heal.
the doctor say i got PTSD.
recommends skills for coping that i done heard before like
post it's of encouragement decorating my vanity
traumatic memories written pretty and rhythmic in a journal
stress wrapped beneath my prayer dress as i kneel in sujood
disorder made neat with Google calendar routines
or
something like that.
solange say self care be your house.
the comfort of hiding.
the keeping your mental safe.
see
i ain't slept in days.
because at some point the journey to bed transcended a frame of time.
became star gazing up at the texture of my ceiling.
became laps around the park at 3 am
became me welcoming lovers into my space to ferry me to my dreams.
solange say self care be your partner.
be eclipsing in the warmth of your love.
staying protected inside of complacency.
i welcomed him. them. the toxicity
my flesh still crawls at the shadow sensation of arms encasing my frame
coiling around me like snakes.
i have yet to understand love but i have grown accustomed to the volition of being ******
or so i tell myself.
solange say self care be a mission.
a journey in itself.
to find rest in oneself.
i may not know nothing about no logical course of action or emotion
but some nights i find myself blazing down highland as if it was aṣ-Ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm
and i get so frightened to my core of the honking horns and leering strangemen that i **** near prostrate myself on the street and make dua for protection and guidance.
say self care-
self care is...
self care be-
self care be tidying the mess that is i.
braiding my hair just for a ***** to pull on it.
wearing a pretty dress just for somebody to make me feel ***** in it.
coloring just to break the crayons in stupor.
making tea just for it to line my throat as bile.
laying down to sleep just to be awake for hours.
self care be a fight.
be a rush of anxiety imposing upon my nights
self care be a dream
a sweaty nightmare of ****** pressed against my back and weight dropping upon my shoulders.
self care be a struggle
self care be a disorder
self care be disorder
self care be me smiling in the mirror and saying mashallah i'm here ain't it?
it's ok to take this **** day by day.
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:38 PM UTC
I dream of a world where passions are free to thrive,
Where we’re not controlled by rules that tell us how to live our lives,
But we’re stuck inside a world where people don’t try to diversify,
This place I call the place where people’s passions go to die.
I don’t think people understand it but we’re all basically the same,
Listening to the same repetitive music over again and again,
I don’t like what I’m hearing it sounds illogical and vain,
I listen to what I listen to so how people view me is maintained.
It’s the same with fashion, technology, media and trends,
And no matter how much I want to leave it, the cycle never ends,
My personality is biased and based on what society recommends,
And makes me contemplate if those I call friends are really friends.
Because I like poetry and writing and to most that’s quite obscene,
I’m not like them buying expensive clothes from expensive magazines,
So when I look into the mirror I know exactly what I see!
I see a guy who’s way too scared to be who he wants to be!
Step back, Breathe in, breathe out, repeat, relax,
There’s a point about all of this that I’m wanting to inspire,
If there’s something that you love, wish to be or admire,
Don’t sit by idly, letting the passion you have expire,
Do something with your dreams and make it something you require.
So rise up! Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t be,
Who cares wether or not the people surrounding you agree,
The passion inspires action and the action is the key,
For you to say to yourself how great it is to be me.
So you finally made it, a world where passions are free to thrive,
Where you’re not controlled by rules that tell you how to live your life,
A world that you created to be slightly more diversified.
You’re no longer in the place where people’s passions go to die.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 4:48 PM UTC
treat this as a warning label
stop, warning, harmful, toxic substance
this won't be a fruitful endeavor
turn around, and don't look back
running from a pillar of salt
It would be foolish to think
that i'm not selfish
people just don't understand
the difference between
nice and selfless
But I would swallow you whole
most comfortable when we
are not comfortable
when the ceiling is crumbling
I'm at my best
I will take you
and claim your humanity
for my own
using it greedily
turning it into words
packaging it
and shipping it off
to millions of fast thought
word joints
warning, explicit content
harmful if swallowed
too far regressed
a stubborn child
in need of saving
too proud to be saved
the Surgeon General recommends
not even taking the time
Just turn around
truly not worth it
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
#*
My friend shared this in a group
जरा धीमे से मुस्कुराया कर
ऐ जिन्दगी....
यहाँ नज़र लगाने वाले
हजा़र हैं.....
( Behold, dear life, do not smile so
I am afraid someone would cast an evil eye )
My response
Muskurati hai zindagi
Nazaraandaaz naa karna
Hawa ka rukh badal jaye
Toh tum naa badal jana
Kuch mausam ki hai sifarish
Aur Zindagi ki guzarish
Muskura rahi hai zindagi
Tum nazaraandaz naa karna
(Life smiles at you
Be not ignorant
The winds may change course
Hope you don’t
The weather recommends
And this life requests too
Life smiles
Be not ignorant)*#
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC
How many minutes does it take for the light from the Sun to travel to Earth?
Easy, 8 minutes and 20 seconds.
What is the distance from the Earth to the Moon?
Easy, 238,900 miles exactly.
What color are her eyes?
... Something gold. A bright golden brown. The flecks show up mostly when she is in the light. Her skin glows florescent, but her eyes deepen with curiosity and an unimaginable spark illuminates within her.
...So, Brown?
I guess you could say that.
How fast does light travel?
Easy, 186,282 miles per second. Hit me with something harder.
Okay, What is her best feature?
*Some would say her body and some would say her mind. But I love the thing that will never deteriorate, Her soul. Her soul is the most beautiful part about her. It is what is within her as well as what shows outside on a sunny day. It is what picks the flowers outside of her house and kisses me gently. It is who recommends music and tells me that she loves me more than I love her (even though that is false, I love her so much more) and that gives me hope in the midst of fear.
Her soul is what touches me, not her fingers. Her soul is living and breathing, not only inside of her, but inside of me as well.*
...Do you really love her?
Guess you could say she's a part of me now.
Yes?
Yes
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
We are against the death penalty, and so
Of thoughtful caritas one recommends
Life sentences with no chance for parole
(And endless-loop re-runs of Lost in Space)
For
1. The manufacturers of this new computer
2. The famous software company who couldn’t
Program their ///es out of a pay toilet
3. And the electronics chain who replies
To emails with “Dear Valued Customer”
And vaporous words which say nothing at all
And now may Olivetti Underwood
Have mercy upon their polluted souls
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
Eye in the sky screams "dreams are not reality;" yet it flies impossibly on whirling bionic wings. "the force is a fantasy," laughs the big screen; yet it motions this ironically through ionic streams. "No power in an evergreen," shrills the factory; cutting from the same cloth that had allowed us to breathe. "That vision? A symptom of insanity;" suggests the PHD, and recommends fixing something so deeply rooted by consuming toxins repeatedly; denying this notion is the very definition of what you suppose we carry. "But don't you want to bee with everybody?" Whisper the walls and empty streets. Could it be that everything is simultaneously, as stone lock and river key? Would it seem that all we need to coax the dread of uncertainty, is to each weave threads of teachings, unique? Bound with an understanding sure as gravity, until we are warm in the cold of infinity, in a quilt of minds set free. ~by Sabian T Warren; AKA ScovilleNova.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 6:51 PM UTC
*Indescribable, So I've been told,
Emotions so beyond scientific reasoning.
Unspeakable, a wonder in itself,
Yet, everyone speaks and knows of it.
Prescribable, everyone recommends,
Outcomes so prove otherwise.
Inexpressible, words are never enough,
Yet, everyone so repeats the same word.
Love,
What are you to become?
With me in mind!*
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
TIME
I'm running out
Of confidence
Of common sense
My confidants are on the fence
Confederate incompetence
Forgetting what it represents
Refraction second somnolence
Relinquish rests recognizance
Iconic pass Aphrodite
Icon platon-ic and mighty
Contend in gin and tonic
Vigor fighting
compulsion flighty
Rigor biting
revulsionninglory sighting
And the lighting
Lends lonely writing
Recommends a tone reciting
I'm alright
I'm all right
We all write
I'm all right
Racing rounded repression
I have a confession
Profound stead impression
Confounded live session
Astounding is sounding
Like bound bring recession
Inbound will resound
In grins drowned sting depression
Sing out, it's my confession!
My ground is regression!
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC