"remarried" poems
For the first time in ten years
Both my parents were near
Seated at a table together
Not next to each other
With my brother in the middle
They sat as their food sizzled
We will always be a family
Though my mother has remarried
I really need for times like this
Family dinners are bliss
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
Alcoholism took my father away from me.
I watched him destroy his life from the age of five.
When Austin left us- I watched his life shatter completely.
I started to plink away on the piano.
Then he started to pick up the pieces.
He got his life together, remarried, and is trying to repay a lost childhood.
So I continue to play.
Now, I'm watching both my sister's life come to crumbles at the lips of a bottle.
So I play louder.
One has gone to rehab for drugs and alcohol.
She is getting better- back on her feet.
The other has moved out and cut off communication with our Father.
So I keep playing.
I'll write a sonng or two for you-
and I'll wait for you to come home.
All I've ever known alcohol to do- is destroy.
And people wonder why the smell nauseates me..
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Modern Day Cinderella
Everyone knows the fairytale
a precious little girl
growing up in hell
with her step-sisters
and step-mom of evil
that want nothing more,
but to trap her in her shell.
As you all know their plan
to hide her away
and keep her from her prince
failed miserably.
This story can relate to a girl I once knew.
Though in her story
she isn't saved by a fella,
this is my modern day cinderella.
Coming from a broken home,
so nothing normal ever known.
Parents divorced before the fighting
could be imprinted in her memory.
Two years later her father remarried.
So all the sudden she had a new family.
Things were okay at the start,
until she got a little older.
Then it all started to rot.
The stepmother turning green,
full of envy, turning mean.
Father always working late,
her mother off on drugs wasting away.
No one was around to notice the change,
to see the pain on that little girls face.
Her step-mom made her cry everyday.
Hate was the term,
used on a regular basis.
The fear this women created,
evil ever so jaded.
Picking up after her step-sisters day after day.
Who loved to use their anger
to make fun of her, tease her
if she didn't appease them.
Spending all the time she could
hiding in her room
for hours upon end.
They preferred her to be non-existent.
There came a day where
she became brave
and decided to take a stand
she played her hand
escaped the fate she was trapped in
breaking the chains.
Ending this story I tell ya
of modern day Cinderella.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
To die,
To fall,
To lose,
In an act of,
Life-giving,
Spirit lifting,
Victory,
Is simply,
Nonsensical,
And yet,
Perfect,
Completely,
Irrational,
And yet,
Thought out,
And so,
Incomprehensible,
With human mind,
But absolutely,
And definitely,
The right thing to do,
Because God loved the world so much,
He would let his own creation,
Take his only son from him,
To save his creation,
From the hands of evil.
And the best thing?
The most amazing and inconceivable thing of all,
Is that he did it for all mankind.
Athiest
Agnostic
Christian
Jew
Muslim
Sikh
Hindu
Buddhist
Black
White
Straight
Gay
Lesbian
Bisexual
Asexual
Boy
Girl
Bigender
Transgender
Agender
Young
Old
Kind
Cruel
Happy
Sad
Rich
Poor
Healthy
Ill
Free
Enslaved
Safe
Afraid
Intelligent
Stupid
Deaf
Blind
Disabled
Handicapped
Single
Taken
Married
Divorced
Remarried
Widowed
Lost
Found
Persecuted
Persecutor
Murderer
Self-harmer
Suicidal
Unloved
Adored
Popular
Ignored
Beautiful
Ugly
Guilty
Innocent
Outcast
Desperate
Autistic
Bulimic
Alcoholic
Bipolar
Addict
Dyslexic
Anorexic
Schizophrenic
SAVED
Every single human being ever born is saved.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
if i could scrub all the scars
off my heart and body,
i would in a heartbeat
remove the disease that plagues me.
when i was younger,
i didn't fit in right with the other kids.
i was always thinking about other things,
reading books, drawing, and writing about things
that were far too old for me.
i would daydream of a world that was different,
where magic lived and i could be an adventurer,
all i would have to do is crawl through a door
but there was never a door. magic isn't real.
maybe i've become bitter as i've aged,
my parents divorced the first time while i was in third grade
and i watched my mother date other men and
my father crumple in sadness.
a year later, they remarried each other
and i thought that true love existed and mommy and daddy
were going to be together forever
no matter what.
my brother seemed happy enough,
though i never saw him much because of our age gap
but he would play games with me sometimes and yell at me
and call me dumb other times so i assumed he was okay.
though sophomore year mommy left daddy again
because he was more of a best friend than a husband to her,
which i understand that feelings change and it's okay
and during the divorce both of them came to me in private
to talk about what was going on,
he did this, she did that, so upset.
i had a boyfriend that begun mistreating me at the time
but i was strong, i thought, i can handle this and help everyone
at the same time and everything will be okay
but mom left and dad got a girlfriend and i was nothing
and everything just died in my hands.
maybe i am bitter,
my heart is breaking constantly.
i remember how it felt the first time it broke,
and the all the other times,
what i was wearing and how my hair looked, where i was
how i clutched at my chest and wailed in misery
and now i just silently lie in bed
on the covers listening to music.
i feel defeated.
i wasn't meant for this life, it's too much for me to handle.
others can take moments like this in stride,
get better and move on but where do i move on to
what am i supposed to do
i don't have any answers and i've been around for twenty years.
i'm defeated.
and bitter.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
*"Veuve Clicquot" is French for
"The Widow Clicquot".*
They say that Madame Clicquot would dance in the vineyard,
They say she would run and jump and crush grapes
Under her pale, white, aristocratic feet,
Then one day she came back home,
Pale feet stained red,
Ivory robe stained red
And she saw her husband,
Red face drained white.
They say Monsieur Clicquot became an alcoholic,
And she came back and saw him hanging from a vine.
He let it grow in the farmhouse for two years,
It climbed, it climbed,
He climbed at tied a noose,
Made a sickly green, thorny loop.
The Veuve Clicquot gave up red wine,
Moved South,
Remarried,
Started growing champagne--
You can't tie a noose with champagne vines.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Brian was the perfect teammate. We were team parents and out numbered 3-2. But he was a strong enough player to hold a level playing field. When bases were loaded, he was the catcher and tagged our children before they could score a run. His commitment to our team made us strong and we did the best that we could to hold them on base during the teenage years. But their team was stacked. Three heavy hitters ready to stand up to the championship team… Wow! What an amazing game we all played together. And I had an outstanding coach.
But one day, one of their player’s was injured and could no longer play the game. It was a sad day, the day we realized that we were one team and that one of our star players would not be there to help bring our team back to victory! We suffered a few bases, but even though we did, we still came out winners….
Krystalyn married the man of her dreams. She brought 2 new players to the game, Joel and Zoey. 3 runs there. Sean has gotten sober and is in school to be an oral assistant. Score 3 more. I have moved on to be G-Ma and the proudest parent I can be… I scored 3. Brian fell in love, remarried and shared our family victories. 4 more runs.
What an awesome team. We are sad that Brian was injured and cannot play anymore. We will miss our coach. . But, we are happy he and Jay are together now in the bleachers and keeping score. We are still winning…. 13-0.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
A brook runs through my Grandmas farm,
That used to carry gold.
My Grandpa
-Benjamin-
Did not yield the land,
To the British, who wanted it dammed.
In 1968, they took him in,
To have his appendix removed,
And Grandma never remarried.
My Aunt Alice,
Was a witch.
She flew in on broomsticks
We never saw,
But heard in the barn,
Where she parked.
She brought foreign sweets that didn’t
Crack our lips,
And told us naughty jokes.
-Oh Pope the *******
Please pass the Custard!-
We’d squeal and never tell,
And feel all grown up and,
Conspiratorial.
Grandma says she died running with
The wrong pack,
That she was knocked from the sky,
By a cross.
Later we learned,
It was a broken heart that did it, that
Grandma wouldn’t accept a,
Jewish man in the house,
So she killed herself.
Mary was dead when we got here,
Her tree is the prettiest.
It’s a large yellow poplar that
Trembles in the slightest breeze.
She was a violinist,
A frail, little thing, who
Is fading away in family photographs.
Irridescent sparrows trill,
Beautiful harmonies,
From skinny branches,
Shielded by the most delicate,
Drooping fronds.
You see, my Grandmother has three beautiful trees,
Growing in her garden,
One for Benjamin, one for Alice, one for Mary.
My grandmother used to sit under these trees.
They’re feeding off the bones she says.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 4:26 PM UTC
She bore no children of her own, because her insides
Were turned to stone.
She had been abused so much before, till she walked out the door.
A woman who was as timid as a mouse, beaten and abused by her spouse.
How much more can you take, before it becomes much too late?
He was abusive in every way and she knew she could not stay.
She recalled the threat that he had said
If you leave I’ll hunt you down and bury your bones in the ground
She had to beat him at his own game; otherwise her life would stay the same
And she had to put a plan in action that would meet her satisfaction.
No one believed that she was being beaten for he was able
To leave her with no scars or black and blues, and she knew just what to do.
She saved her money and had camcorders put all around that
Could record every move and sound
When he came home drunk that night and started to abuse her and fight
All the recorders were at work recording every punch and ****
When he left for work the next day, she took it to the police
So they could watch it play.
That was all that they needed to arrest him on site
With the news she jumped with delight’
She filed for divorce and started a new life
Remarried and is living a good life.
© L. RAMS 120614
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
His garb was not spectacular,his shoes were grey and worn;
his hair was longer than a mere crewcut.
His nails were very *****
his veins were free of needles-
and his face shone bright red
in the misty sunlight.
He greeted the sky with a wail of delight,
and the hearts of passers began to throb.
Summer and autumn were remarried in an embrace of generous hope,
throbbing airwaves,tapping feet,delighted smiles.
And then along came a citizen,politically correct;
oh so relevant,barely tolerant ,emancipator.
With a fuzz of of ***** gray
a salloween expressive nosegay-
A mission to expunge the infiltrator!
He was busy with his flute;
he could not practise,he said
"I only live two hundred yards away.
You must cease and leave this place
you do not fit here in this race-
ABANDON this ridiculous idea!"
So,the stopwatch was set;
the 'half hour rule' began to reign:
And the police turned up
after merely twenty minutes!
Nelson's watch saved the day
"take another twenty"They did say
and our liberator slunk away
unfairly treated.
Though earth on heel and
sky on neck:Lovers'
authentic myth
outshining heaven:
a piper
on a bridge
unsheathed
across
the Ij
A klted
magpie.
unswathed
the lay
fairly
greeted
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 7:55 AM UTC
We always said we didn’t know what we would do without each other
But we did know
We’d only known each other for two years
I wasn’t there when your parents split up and each remarried
or when you had to get stitches on your face
or watched your first scary movie
And you weren’t there when I smoked my first cigarette
or tried to **** myself when I was 13
or when I won that soccer game my freshman year
The last time we had *** we were in a rush
because we had school in 37 minutes
and so we made it sloppy and fast in your shower
and then we drove to school together with wet hair and we laughed
The last time we had *** I got pregnant
This wasn’t one of those scares where you’re two weeks late
so you buy a few cheap tests and it’s negative
so you stash the rest in the back of your drawer and forget about it
I got pregnant on the first day of June and I never told you
I miscarried on the last day of August
and you never even knew how close you came to being a father
We stopped talking and I couldn’t even tell you
how I was stunned into silence when I realized I was going to be a mother and then knew I had to keep it a secret
Knew I had to keep our dark haired future to myself
So here it is the end of February
I should have been having the baby this week or next
and you NEVER EVEN KNEW
I watch you say how much you love this little 15 year old girl
you’ve been dating for six months
I miscarried the day you started dating so tell me that was just a
coincidence
But don't you dare ever tell me you don't know what you'd do without me
Well, I guess you wouldn't anymore
Seeing as how you don't want me
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
The adventurer returned home years later,
Carrying bags of seeds, stones, and rarities.
He found that his house had been painted
Green and white.
He didn't like it.
He found that his son had been born,
And named "Jean-Baptiste."
He didn't like it.
He found that his wife had figured him dead
And remarried.
He didn't like it.
He planted her the seeds,
Built her gardens with the stones,
Gifted her the rarities,
Then smiled and left her to her happiness,
But he didn't like it.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
Grandfather John, my mother's dad,
remarried later on in life.
When he passed on his vast wealth
passed largely to this second wife.
Thus did her children benefit
from the bulk of his estate.
My mother and my Uncle John
relatively little, sad to state.
Sometime after the internment date
a piano was shipped to our home.
A piece Step- Grandma didn't want
She didn't play and lived alone.
When my mother was a child
living up in Marble Hill
She'd learned to play the instrument
that now she merely wished to ****
In mortal rage she grabbed an axe
and like a batter swung away
It was a fair bit of exercise
(She had played baseball in her day.)
Such sounds that spinnet then produced
were likely never heard before.
such atonal melodies
as she ripped and smashed its core.
the Axe concerto was concluded
when only splinters still remained
She went and stored the axe away-
After than she never played
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 8:11 PM UTC
It was just simple summer home,
Nothing fancy, really.
Water with a slightly odd taste,
And furniture with a distinctly "coastal" flair.
We called it "fish camp"
As an affectionate reminder that of the houses on the street,
It was the simplest, the plainest.
Meant to be lived in only for short times.
Not far from Harker's Island,
The sound became my playground.
My mother would play with me on the sound's gentle shallows,
While my father and grandfather would fish.
Even after my grandfather remarried,
And moved into his new wife's home
(A permanent residence down the street from our beloved fish camp),
Fish camp stayed in the family.
Now, our fish camp is ours no longer.
No longer is fish camp of the McMullan clan.
It belongs to another
Whose name I do not know.
What I would not give to be there again,
Now that I am older, hopefully wiser
More attuned to the rich history of the sound,
Of its waters, of its places, of its people.
What I would not give
To learn the waters of the sound
To learn the shallows and the tides
To sail with my grandfather again.
And, at the end of the day, to come home to
the fish camp at Straits.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 12:01 PM UTC
For twenty years
they loved and bickered
She was smarter,
he was quicker.
They then divorced
In acrimony
He got freedom
She got alimony.
For ten years then
They lived apart.
But hunger grew
within each heart.
So they remarried
Made a new start
And this time only
Death did part.
What did he tell friends?
What was his take?
“We got divorced
But it was a mistake.”
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
When he was born his father was drunk,
his mother was doped up.
He was born three months early with double pneumonia,
but he lived.
Growing up, his father would put down the bottle
only to hit him and his mother.
For some reason, he wasn't sure, his sister and brother were spared.
His father died when he was eleven.
His father killed himself with the same pistol he killed two Japanese men with. His mother remarried, with no job, experience, or even a drivers license, she had to remarry quick.
His stepfather put down the bottle only long enough to hit him and his mother. This time, his sister and brother were not spared.
Two weeks after his seventeenth birthday, he learned to play while my guitar gently weeps on a third hand guitar his stepfather had spent a fifth of his monthly salary buying.
He made money playing guitar. He wasn't the best, no Eddie Van Halen, no Eric Clapton. He did without the flashy showmanship. He had something called dependability. He was never late for an audition, he never ****** up an audition, he never fought with his band mates.
Driving home from a gig thirteen days after his twenty second birthday, a drunk teenager in a pickup truck plowed into him at an intersection.
He spent 5 weeks in the hospital. Doped up the whole time. When they let him leave, he left with a plate in his head and a monkey on his back.
For three years he lived on the streets. He'd play his guitar on the corner by the CBGBs for change. He'd take that change and buy ****** After three years, exactly three years of this, he realized he could play guitar better sober. He stopped using.
He got an associates degree in English, a concentration in teaching.
He taught English and Beginning Guitar at the same high school he hid his bruises at years earlier. He had favorite students, how could he not? They were always hiding bruises.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
Dear two year old me,
You've been walking for a year now,
And oh! The places you'll go!
The people you'll see, and love, and hurt.
This is your superhero's backstory, you'll see.
Dear four year old me,
I'm so proud of you,
Losing yourself in books already,
Keep your smile ready, darling,
It's going to be rough for a while.
Dear six year old me,
Those kids who threw pine cones
Called you ugly at the bus stop
And made you run home in tears,
Baby Girl, they don't matter.
Dear eight year old me,
That teacher who sneered "just like your mom"
like a barbed insult and a doomed future
was just a mean confused white lady,
Who never even tried to get to know you or your wonderful mother.
Dear ten year old me,
Playground marriages were just for show
Everyone else got remarried day by day
You only had eyes for one, but that's okay
Your loyalty will bring you happiness, one day.
Dear twelve year old me,
You really are too young to date,
and I know everyone else is doing it,
but none of them last, baby girl,
waiting is totally okay.
Dear fourteen year old me,
You've been in love for so long,
It's really just like breathing, isn't it?
But you're too young to know what toxic is
Don't worry, *** you'll be so much better.
Dear sixteen year old me,
It hurts. I know it hurts. It hurts so much.
You'll teach yourself to keep busy day by day
But honey your lungs only burn because you've been
Breathing smoke for so long fresh oxygen tastes poisonous.
Dear eighteen year old me,
You'd think me soft, now. Emotional. Weak.
But crying is okay, sweet one, wanting hugs is okay
Feeling used is okay. Wanting love is okay.
It's going to be okay.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
i see how the singer lets go of forever
and the drummer lets the tears flow
a wish and a promise to keep them both honest
but that was so long ago
we never knew them at all but we knew them
they always put on a show
they both got remarried in each other’s weddings
i can picture the words that they spoke
this song means it’s over but he’ll always love her
and she’ll always be rita’s ghost
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
The artist picked his inspiration.
The artist found his muse.
He fell in love with her,
But his love was refused.
Until he painted a picture so beautiful
She shed the tears of love.
He need speak no words
Through the painting she would blush.
She was a permanent solution
To a problem many artists face.
He had a troubled life,
And she put him in his place.
Their love was natural,
Their love was pure.
She too had a disease,
But he was the cure.
She would stare into his hazel eyes,
While he stared back into her blues.
It wasn't but three months,
Before they said “I do”.
The touch of her lips
Felt like heaven in his hands,
They would lock lips
For hours on end.
Her hands brought comfort,
Her smile brought joy.
She was so desirable
She was like Helen of troy.
Once dark paintings he made,
Now make the saddest person smile.
He developed a sense of positivity
It became his well known style.
But life is not a happy story,
It has no happy end,
Misery accompanies joy,
They're like two best friends.
The love was still there,
But only in his brain.
She wanted out,
No matter the pain.
She packed up and left,
Leaving nothing behind.
While he went out for flowers
To bring back to his lovely wife.
No note was written,
No trace of where she'd gone.
He waited for days,
Wondering what he did wrong.
They say real men cry,
So he must be the manliest of men
He felt his heart break,
And his brain snap from its stem.
He trashed his house,
He trashed his paintings.
He punched the walls
And his body began shaking.
He stabbed his work
He screamed to the sky
He fell to his knees
And began to cry.
From that day forward
He remarried to *****
He was never a winner,
He was always meant to lose.
Once a popular painter
Because of his happy work,
Now only paints sadness
Like he did before he found her.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
A capricious capricorn born to daughter of joseph aloisious and mariellen
A wild haired blonde named dawn
Who had her at age six and ten
She had a brother named Ryan before her life began
Her father a man twice her mothers age
Not a wise man, nor a sage.
Her grandmother remarried to son of harry poole.
A man named Keith not a genius nor a fool.
Unlike estranged joe, he kept his cool.
Mother remarried to a man who did not.
Though her father said he missed her,
he never bothered to call. Soon she had a new sister and felt like nothing at all.
Some years later the step father would leave, finally she felt she could breathe.
Her mom relieved she began to see another man.
A man named mark she soon had a child.
A bright eyed boy named dennis, with a sweet smile.
The girl would run away in search of happiness wishing for more.
Her heart was free, and her dreams alive.
She returned to the place that she once escaped,
to make the mistakes she once made.
Like a blade of grass in tussle with the wind.
She felt defeated, and waited for her life to begin.
She waited for the day when she would leave on a whim.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
There was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.
He look’d upon the photograph of a scary-skinny model from Vogue Magazine that his mother had framed.
The child began to revere it, but the more he grew, the more weight he gained,
Until the day where he looked in the mirror, and became ashamed,
So he starved himself until he was completely drained;
Drained of energy and love, and the will to live.
The child became an adolescent in high school, and was isolated from society
For years no one loved him, and he befriended depression and anxiety
He could no longer live with reality,
And felt that he couldn't be healed through sobriety.
So he threw himself into harder drugs and consumed them silently.
A living skeleton, and abuser of drugs, he was known for his notoriety.
One day he met a girl, who saw through him and made his friendship a priority
She wasn’t so much different from him, and she loved him entirely.
The boy who was once a child became a man, and finally had love in his life,
But all around his home was painful strife;
The hatred was so real that he thought maybe he’d have more luck in the afterlife.
The woman who had ruined his life when his father remarried: the wife.
Now that he was eighteen, she kicked him out of the house, threatening him with a knife.
Living on the streets or on people’s couches, he often had nowhere to go
His homeless state made him see the world differently, although,
It wasn’t all bad. He learned about strange people and places and their flow.
Where he went he picked up culture and good things to know;
He learned the most from artists and authors, like Henry David Thoreau
The child had mostly known pain, sorrow, hunger and hate,
But going through the years in misery, or taking his own young life was no longer his fate.
Despite his despair, he had found his soul mate.
With the places and people he discovered, he felt rich, even though he could fit all his possessions in one small crate.
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
Short rap story
Lil loonie was a loser school abuser at home told he's was no more than manure
Always down on frowned on
Hound on!
People he's a supposed love are
Far being bigons
Stuck between two
Mother with issues
Dead brother picture hanngin in the window.
Constant reticule only peace
Was dream of revenue
Own a avenue be a block owner like the corner toker smokers shadows crews
Jammin to the bad words they lingo ,
The way lean tho , havin honnies chasin at they feet too
Seems so blissful
I want it!
Soo lil Lonnie became a grown up,
Started selling grass up in the school bus,
Ayo man. Lonnie gone nuts !
Starting fights skippin class grabbing *** up in the hallway ,
Stealing cash,
And ****** in the hallway,
Jumpin other kids in the stall way
He's gone gray,
He finally dropped out , linked up with the corners, made a connection now he's transporting product ,
Constantly eyes shut , to the fact that he blind but makin quap to support his mom and dads ****
So they didn't question his surprised bust ,
Did 20 rough , came home to a dead conscious mutt , and Cocain addicted **** ,
Moms up in hospital, dad has lost his mind , nuts. A remarried krutch Brain is crust , powdered dust loonie.
Lil Lonnie lost a huge portion of life to a past hobby, trying to good now, takin flowers to the lobby. Only to find he's heading to mortuary section , mom didn't make it past the first chemo injection.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC
I came into this world,
Your one and only.
You left me to Mom to take care of me.
You wouldn't hold me when I would cry.
I got older,
and you got remarried
To a woman who bared three more kids for you.
Your words became abusive
and you blamed your mistakes on me.
You still wouldn't hold me when I would cry.
I am an adult now,
and a stronger one since you tried to break me down.
While everyone else thinks you deserve Dad of the Year,
I know your phony antics.
I also know now that I don't need you to
hold me when I cry.
But I thank you for distancing yourself
because when you did,
I learned I could stand on my own.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
Every Ten Years
There is something in which I never speak,
my inner soul has become decayed and weak.
Just the thought will drive me insane,
blisters cover my heart and brain.
It's been ten long years, since that day,
I think about it, without any say.
Maybe it's time to let it loose,
I'm so hungry, I could eat a whole moose.
A angry beast lives inside my soul,
this time, I'm not paying any toll.
Shot my family with a gun,
it was easy, it was fun.
Getting the urge to **** some more,
that's why I married this stupid *****
My new wife and kids have no clue,
all the things I'm about to do.
I'm starting to shake, starting to mumble,
legs getting weak as I start to stumble.
Grabbed my shotgun from behind the wall,
felt like the man from Walking Tall.
Old family buried in the back yard,
my head was dealt the wrong card.
Dug four new graves next to theirs,
I believe in keeping families in pairs.
Shot them dead in cold blood,
how I sure love a red flood.
I've been questioned, but never accused,
this is how I keep myself amused.
Five years later I get remarried,
there are more bodies to be buried.
I'm forty eight and getting old,
with each day, my heart gets more cold.
This time after killing my kin,
it actually felt like a ***** sin.
Can't go through this ever again,
killing myself, just don't know when.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
I'm packing up boxes
I'm moving away
I went to see mother
She's in her grave
She forced me to do it
at only two
Choke on her boyfriend
Spit, swallow, and chew
She labeled me branded
Her lies, never true
I'm still fighting rumors
And living the blues
I was so beaten
Had welts that were bleeding
The teachers were screaming
Get out of our school
Then, one day I fought back
Whenever attacked
Did twenty-two push-ups
And more jumping jacks
I took her to court
And the judge said "you're lying"
And all mother did
was just sit there, just crying
They said I could go
to the county's safe home
But, it wouldn't be easy
With their share of sleazies
My father remarried
Had no time for me
He had a new family
Much different from me
Finally, I couldn't
stand it no more
And murdered my mother
That red headed *****
I'm packing up boxes
I'm moving away
She's lying there rotting-
in hell. In her grave
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC