"revisit" poems
If you could change the things you've done
Would you jump and take the chance?
Or would you leave your life alone
And continue with the dance
If you could make some things better
But know that other things would change
Would you keep your life the way it is
Or would you choose to rearrange?
I wish I had a time machine
For I know what I would do
I would travel back into the past
To spend more time with you
I wouldn't change what happened
I would just relive the past
Because I love when we're together
And it's moments you can't grasp
Would you change the job you're doing
Would you make yourself real rich
Remember though if things you change
Time's fabric drops a stitch
The things you do when you go back
Will change the things now here
So if you do things different
Your life might disappear
You can go make sick folks healthy
But that will change the scope of time
If I changed the things that happened
you may not end up being mine
I wish I had a time machine
For I know what I would do
I would travel back into the past
To spend more time with you
I wouldn't change what happened
I would just relive the past
Because I love when we're together
And it's moments you can't grasp
There are reasons that things happen
And there are reasons some do not
Would you change the life you're living
For one that you are not?
I know that I'd revisit
The past for just a while
And I'd leave things just the same
I'd go back to see your smile
I wish I had a time machine
For I know what I would do
I would travel back into the past
To spend more time with you
I wouldn't change what happened
I would just relive the past
Because I love when we're together
And it's moments you can't grasp
I'd leave time just the way it was
I'd do everything the same
That way, nothing would be different
And I wouldn't be to blame.
I wish I had a time machine
For I know what I would do
I would travel back into the past
To spend more time with you
I wouldn't change what happened
I would just relive the past
Because I love when we're together
And it's moments you can't grasp
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
I fell in it
A handful of times
Those burning embers
Of love and trust
The consuming flames
Of the pleasures of lust
The perpetual game
Of push and shove
I get tired
And burned out
Running from all
Life's broken rules
And after all
I don't care to revisit
Those old blues
But don't get me wrong
I'm still your one
And only fool
Because you know
Once or twice
In the darkest
Part of life
I was so blessed
To have your light!
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
Touch as the fervent feeling seek to know the ambiguity of it,
Feel as the ****** of a sparrow wing crept upon my dreams,
Fathom as the grief of rocks shrieked on deserted mountains,
And the Sky was blue
Touched by a Crescent Moon
Unraveling the hidden truth
How life was promised to me and you
Awe as landscapes vanished from distant perplexing shores,
Sigh as Long ships sailed on white ashes coasting inherently,
Fright as the voluptuous sights, faking wonders in my night,
And the Sky was blue
mellifluously My Heart as to see
a magnificent feeling to be free
the beauty relentless, endlessly weave
Pray as the growing wind whisper, a phrase to forever keep,
Kneel as crowds offered Him, a gratitude of rejoicing praise,
Trust as dandelions glides, the strength of His binding faith,
And the Sky was blue
for God is forever faithful & true
to broken lives, he one's renew
Keeping his promise to come again soon
Awake as the daybreak reveal, memories of our love revisit,
Sing as angels on white veil’s, bring you to heaven's place,
Gone is the world I once knew, eyes closing as my soul flew,
Amen...
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
I've sat here for 21 years
Watching all this go by
People say things cliché
With pretension in their eye
I'm tired of hearing, everyday, what life is all about
Reality is getting boring, let's tune in and drop out
Have you heard the one
About the killer and the priest?
One blesses people with less and less
And one is just a thief
In "somewhere else" my mind is broken down
Reality is getting boring yet still its name resounds
There's stories everywhere you go
And all of them the same
Reductive plots and happy endings
Just under another name
I'm quiet as I sit and listen to what they all say
Reality is getting boring, maybe I'll revisit it some other day
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
<>
"And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden
The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face
The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden
The summer breeze was blowin' on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden"
In the Garden,
song by by Van Morrison
<>
***This touches me deep in the chest cavity,
the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations,
a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and
accrue, the mood,
for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me
for I am but steps away from the garden,
and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes,
with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses,
touches,
caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying,
overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets,
for find myself at the intersection,
interlocking crossroads
where perfect perfection
begins and must
meet its natural endings
thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations,
all impossibilities, challenges,
see me, begging itinerant
muses
in the neighborhood
to guide my hand, teach me newsome words,
mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment,
hearing me solicit their
Treasure of Summery
Words
but they won't,
excusing themselves,
that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised,
all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity,
time insufficient to learn a new calculus of
addition
and bid me calm my heaving chest,
seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps
awaiting away
live in this moment
live within this poem,
revisit it frequent,
weep no more,
your stilling heart weakened,
take fast what is given now,
and be contented,
your treasury chest is full,
overflowing with this summary of
summery***
but I am not, cannot…
7:48:am
jul 22
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC
time flies by
and so does the wind against my window pane
rain drops concoct a symphony:
plink
plink
plink
my body is comfortably numb
though,
my thoughts are quite the opposite
time flies by and so do the feelings inside my head
they are lost
searching for some sort of salvation,
searching for you,
running,
walking,
crawling
for you.
time flies by and so do my memories of you
i revisit them
the good, the bad,
and the broken
if it's healthy-
it hurts
if it's haunting-
it hurts.
time flies by while i waste away in bed
and i wonder if you are,
too.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
They say that smell
Is your strongest sense
When tied to memory.
That just a whiff of a smell
Or even thought of a
Smell can bring you back
To a place and a time that
You had previously
Thought were left behind.
For me the smell of
Bleach is comfort, as my
Nanny used it as a
Standard, household
Cleaner. I love that smell
As well as of my favorite
Dinner, mildew (reminds me of summers spent
At camp, living out of a trunk) and
My favorite flowers
Each of these smells I
Love to revisit time and
Time again. One smell
Though has embedded
Itself in my memory and if
I have my way, I’ll never
Smell it again.
Mom had Colon cancer most
Of my time in
High school.
No clue on the stage
But it was best not
To
Ask
Surgeries, chemo, radiation, the
Whole
Nine
Things seemed to be fine,
Well, even great
Until it took a turn
My mom has never been
Skinny; she is petite, but
Normal
Suddenly she looked like
A holocaust victim
She would get quiet
Draw into herself
For periods of time
Another surgery. Fine
She returned home
And then something crept in
That something was death
And I’ll never know how I knew
You just know.
The smell of something
Dying
Isn’t pleasant
It puts you on edge
And turns your stomach
Mom was confident
That she was getting better
The smell, that can’t
Be described (dying tissue, pain
Suffering) was glaring
To me
I never asked Mom or Dad
If they could smell it
Because the smell of Death
Isn’t a sense that should
Be shared
I would just maintain that
I didn’t think
Something was right
A day or so later
Surgery. Fine. Home.
Smell.
Surgery. Fine. Home.
Smell.
Surgery. Fine. Home.
After that last
Surgery. The smell
Left. But even now
When I think back
To that time
That complicated time of
Soccer games
Chemotherapy
Apply to college
Surgeries
The one thing in the
Foreground
Is
That
Smell
Just a whiff of death
Of human decay
Of dying
Of suffering
And I’ve had my fill
For a lifetime
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
Laying on the bed, reading your wedding invite.
I recall the day you went silent and I threw my crown.
Stepping down and lost myself.
Today I let you go, my love.
Not because I give up.
I believe you cared and you still do.
Your silence did cut through my flesh,
Your strangeness burnt my heart.
But here I stand today ready to let myself heal.
Years of gathering broken pieces of my heart.
My lost pieces of love, wailing to be found.
Stranded I searched, and I still do.
I held on to you, like a stubborn child.
Your memories engraved, your doings encircling my thoughts.
Strangely never remembering our fights, I was partial.
My heart wanted more, my soul was thirsty.
I found pleasure in pain.
I kept you alive.
What a splendid journey, my love.
The impeccable high of your addiction.
As I drowned, I found myself.
One day I chose to revisit my past.
Regretting the time lost to stupid fights, blaming myself.
I never felt, keeping you alive.
Stupid were my acts, unreasonable was my anger.
Childish were my demands.
A sinner, at your altar I confess.
Sleepless nights, result of a restless brain.
Blaming you for the love I dreaded I deserved,
For making me feel worthwhile.
Keeping your memories alive,
Redoing my past, for an escape.
As the odds increased, so did my grief.
For the broken promises, and the endless thoughts.
U left without a word, so did my Tears.
You coward, I pushed myself to oblivion.
I saved our love when the world sympathised.
I held on to respect, for u and our love.
Wishing you the best, I kept u alive.
My futile attempts to blame you, was a curse.
A part of me found pleasure when they blamed you,
My stupid selfish heart.
But today I let you go my love, I allow myself to heal.
You meant so much, you still do.
But life is more than just you and me.
A part of my soul is still with you, it’s yours now.
Keep it safe my love.
I’ll nurture what is left of it.
As time flies by, I’ll heal.
For a better tomorrow, for a better me.
I’ll strive with a hollow heart and a partial soul.
Thank you love, for the heat.
For never cheating my heart.
For the never ending euphoria.
I know u cared and you still do.
When you found me, I found myself.
For your breath of life, I’ll keep u alive.
You made me believe in good.
To Love someone more than my being.
Surprised I’m to know my strength.
Entwined souls, living in the moment.
We headed together, Insane and reckless.
Towards our predefined end.
I’m glad it was you and no one else.
You were the one, my wildest decision.
Oh my wings, my strength.
But today love, I let you go.
I was your princess.
Now it's someone else.
It’s time to put back my crown to rule.
U won't be forgotten my love,
but like any life chapter ours has come to an end.
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:31 AM UTC
Distance, is this air around me that is vacant of you.
Your heart, so far from mine, though I can hear it’s music.
Patience, is the belief that time without you is bearable.
Seconds slowly scrape along the line I drew to wake.
Nothing matches this ache.
of opening eyes to mornings, without your laughter.
Closing them is redundant,
it does not permit me back, to revisit the dream I had left you in.
Eyes instead reluctantly greet the sunrise,
whilst yours are still dancing, flickering, in the gift sleep brings.
I wonder if your searching for me.
Impatient hands long to pull you prematurely out of slumber. Reaching across this border in vain, restless mind teasing me,
as it thinks of holding you, kissing you, here. now.
Dare I soften the white peaks of the mountains that part us?
I mustn’t, thinks the patient witness of time I’ll wait for you on the other side my dear...join me, soon, I wait eagerly.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
i took my first love down to strawberry hill,
the only place i knew how to be free,
only kids were we,
i kissed her and she kissed me
right there among the strawberries,
but when i asked how long we would be
she said nothing to me
two days later she left me,
and the strawberries beneath my feet
lay cold in the breeze
15 my heart was afluttering,
and i took my love down to violet hill
there we sat in the summer heat,
i asked just how long we would be,
she sat as silent as a tree
three days later she let me go,
and i sat staring at the dead berries
that lay buried in front of me
23 i thought i had found she,
the girl who would always love me,
but i got down on my knees
and she said no to me,
i didn't say anything,
just watched the strawberries beside me
wither and bleed, no longer living
when you came to me
the strawberry hill no longer
carried its name,
my heart beseeched me
to revisit once in my lonely life,
i told you my story of the strawberry hill
and the heartbreak that had happened here,
you sat the, silent still, and once done
you said to me,
"darling this hill belongs to we,
i shall not leave you until life lets me sleep,
and even then this hill is where you will find me"
now i stand on strawberry hill,
life breathed back by your love,
you lay beneath your strawberries,
waiting to greet me
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 12:09 PM UTC
as an astronaut, I spun on a rotary around the core of your existence like
you were the gravity that held me to the ground but kept me on my toes
if home is where the heart is, i'm coping with this unbearable homesickness
and I know my heart has an anarchy government, living a steel toed rebellion
but these relentless thoughts about you have gotten bad again, i don't sleep
my reckless behavior let loose, like a dog off his chain and collar and i
revisited the places you always talked about, how i dreamed to be there
with you recovering those lost feelings, and rebellion was assisting me
in the mind of my teenage angst, no autobiographies could be more
authentic than the hatred for this unrequited swelling i held in my heart
without a doubt, you're featured in my dreams more than nightmares
you couldn't be more real than the books that I hold in my hands
i'm sleeping in water filled with sharks calling me a tedious terrorist
entering their territory, leaving me with absolutely nothing
just build a bridge, get over it, if you have to, revisit my mind
maybe you'll see everyone is the enemy, not everyone is perfect
-kra
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
My Solace
when every aperture is a tunnel narrowing,
a light pin diminishing when nearing,
when the desk drawer yields up unused theater tickets,
for performances concluded yesterday,
when the denouement is nothing new but worse,
revealed in the coming attractions trailer,
when the rusted unborn poem notion is almost done,
but remains unpublished,
for no beginning, no title, can be found,
Then I recall the cornucopia days,
when poems spilled forth like
there would never be a when they wouldn't,
I revisit my old friends, couplets, twins and triplets,
seeded inside every tear, happy or sad,
sweetly and freely,
my old friends, reread,
words rearranged in new combinations,
old poems, plants bearing new fruits,
re-titled all of them, one name,
a collection entitled,
My Solace.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
Night sets,
The sun falls.
Moon and stars become uncovered.
A pink faced child crawls under the covers.
A cardboard book is clutched in soft bands.
A f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
looks innocent and careless.
Mother hen, baby calf, wiggly pig,
their smiling faces send the child off to sleep.
That child remembers that story.
They remember the smiling faces of
mother hen, baby calf, wiggly pig.
That child is no long a child,
they no longer read that cardboard farm book.
They remember their childhood with that book,
they blur into one.
They see a barn just like the
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
just like the picture in the cardboard farm book.
They stop to revisit their childhood,
they stop to revisit their innocence,
they stop to revisit those smiling faces.
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
is only a step away,
that no longer child pushes open the sun warmed door.
They except innocence,
they except those smiling faces,
but they did not see what they expected.
The innocence of their childhood was a lie,
there are no smiling faces here.
This is not the
f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
from their cardboard book,
from their childhood,
they blurred into one.
Mother hen is not smiling,
her beak is cut off with a hot blade, she cannot move her wings in her cage,
her daughters are taken to live her fate,
her sons are ground alive to be feed to her,
mother hen is not smiling.
Baby calf is not smiling,
baby calf is just born,
then taken by a man in blood soaked boots,
baby calf watches helpless as their mother cries,
as their mother chews the metal bars,
as their mother fights the electric shocks.
Baby calf does not know their father,
neither does their mother.
Baby calf is put in a metal cage,
they will live a year or two,
baby calf will not move,
that is the point of veal.
Baby calf is not smiling.
Wiggly pig is not smiling,
wiggly pig can only wiggle,
only enough so her babies can drink her milk,
she cannot reach them though.
Wiggly pig will watch her babies grow,
but beyond what is natural,
beyond what their hearts can handle,
but there is a big demand for bacon.
Wiggly pig can see her babies hung from their hooves,
and slit open alive,
but wiggly pig can only wiggle.
Wiggly pig is not smiling.
That f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
is not as innocent as the cardboard farm book.
That farm in the book,
it was a lie,
but that cardboard farm book was their childhood right?
They blur into one.
Their childhood was a lie.
That no longer child lived a lie,
because power wanted them to only see the smiling faces,
they wanted them to believe that farm in the book
to be true,
not the lie that really is.
Power took away their innocence of childhood.
Power took away babies from their mothers.
Power took away my smile.
The f
d a
e r
r m
c b
u a
t r
e n
from my child no longer sends me off to sleep.
Instead it keeps me awake with the image of a farm,
not the farm in the cardboard book though,
a farm not filled with smiling animals,
a farm filled with cries, blood, sorrow, pain, horror, death.
A farm that is a lie.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
I have a heart
made to adore
juvenile fantasies,
despite modern tragedies.
In moments of madness
when modern photography
presents to me
the horrors of humanity
I can engage for a minute
and escape the insanity
in the comics
that carry super hero forms.
When I see bombs
that blister skin
till flesh bursts
revealing red disfigurement
I can travel in
my own mental
compartment
to escape this.
I can revisit
Winnie the pooh
or review the crew
of “Star Trek
The Next Generation.”
When mind numbing poverty
rears its sad faces at me,
with stranger’s eyes
and thin lips quivering
in lonely desperation,
despite my empathy
I have a gift for escaping
the irrationality
of human suffering.
I just sip the soft brew
of nostalgia for old cartoons
recalling a slightly saner time,
when all the sorrows
were only mine,
when I ached
with a mother’s fury
but tv shows saw me distracted
the fact is
I have been escaping
my whole life,
and I don’t see
that changing.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
*Over the centuries
a transforming logo
promoting and shaping
our dance with coffee..
a seafaring birth
fifteenth century siren
exposed and sensuous
twin-tailed mermaid..
her seductive history
reached to Seattle
with nautical theme..
one lasting effect
many centuries told
with modified modesty
her crown remains..
this enduring connection
upper and lower
crown and creation
transcends the coffee..
the logo reminds us:
senses through time
stimulate and attract
crowned light above...*
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
(Holding fire and water together)
I don't know why the rain keeps writing the
name of Nigeria on the ground in every corner.
I don't know why we are this broken and
tortured like the fragments of the dust.
I don't know why the Dapchi girls returned yesterday while their chikbok friends are
still in captive.
I don't know why every street in Nigeria is
known with an imprint of good leaders.
I don't know why we cry yet point accusation. fingers back to ourselves, who is fooling who?
I don't know why the sun cry here with a
closed lips.
I don't know why we keep writing love stories
while our brothers and sisters perish in shame!
I don't just know why but I think you should know.
Are you not the one that collected a cup of rice, clean notes and Abrahamic lie from them?
I won't speak ill of this land again, I won't!
I won't judge any one, no, I won't for the
sake of my unborn children.
No, I won't for the sake of what happened to Dele Giwa and Saro Wiwa.
We poets are abnormal psychologically.
We paints abstraction from the abstracts creating fears that might hurt those true patriots.
My muse fell out from me yesterday night,
When my television opened to a scene of genocide.
Men on pants, women on trousers painting out the tears made for people inhabiting hell.
Their laughters and smiles were printed to be archived among themselves.
I won't speak ill of this country, no, I won't!
Because of my unborn children,
I won't!
But I will tell just one tale for them to remember
Of how monkeys carted away with our monies!
Of how Snake swallowed our currency!
Of how good our leaders are, I think you know!
I have been holding these demons in me until last night they came out horribly in fierce protest to revisit this land again.
To tell of those girls ***** under the bridge,
To ask why boys like me are named after me,
To speak against shadows of death lurking here and there.
Nigeria is grey and black, red and violent,
Retrieving this oceans of mysteries from the hidden abyss of grave corruption is the passport tabled on the pyramid top to recreate a versatile muses of a lyrics calling for a right to write our rights.
Take a walk to memory lane pass your shadow, that of your father, mother & grandmas
You will see a Nigeria in another angle trying to free herself from the grip of corruption, then, revisit her tears and struggles you will know we are the cause of our own misfortunes.!
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_A_Pen_Refusing_Frustrations
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
I ended the only relationship I've ever had.
Seven days shy of four years I told him I didn't want to get married.
"So you want to get married but just not to me?"
I revisit that day in my sleep every night. The day that I took the plane to do it right. Boston behind me.
"You have completely broken my heart."
My brother by my side at the departure and arrival. The sumner tunnel under construction and $300 in jet fuel later.
"I want you to be gone when I come out of the bathroom."
A few months prior he told me that dating me was "bliss". I knew it hadn't been that for me.
"Is this it? Are you done with me just like that?"
I told him that he was taking me for granted and I couldn't talk to him when I needed him most. Hiding my mental illness should he think I'm broken.
"Just because I don't ask how your day is does mean I don't care."
He flew to Boston not 12 hours later. Even during his grand gesture he couldn't help but criticize me.
"Stand up straight."
He told me he thought suicide was selfish. How was I to tell him I had considered parking my car on the highway bridge over the Merrimack river and jumping off? A women did that the first week I lived here, so I knew it would work.
"I thought about putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger."
My best friend told me he asked her for her name. I'd been dating him for three years. Pop quiz: Who is your girlfriend's best friend and roommate? Did he even listen to me speak at all? Did he even care about my life at all?
"Whats your name again?"
Three months later, I only see you when I sleep. I'm haunted by this memory. I never dream we are still together and I wonder what that means. I've broken up with you a hundred times but it doesn't get any easier.
"Tell me everything you don't like about me. Give me a list."
Jan 20, 2024
Jan 20, 2024 at 8:22 PM UTC
1.
On a nameless planet, in ferment we first met,
eons ago, tiny microbes, evolving we were still,
yet love a flickering light, bound us together.
As two galaxies were merging fiercely then,
to turn us and our nameless pang,to worthless dust
there wasn't any time left for a future together.
In a microbial kiss pathos ruled,we melted as one,
promised to remember this tryst, imprinted so deep
wherever in cosmos we would meet in future
in whatever form we may be at that juncture.
2.
This morning at the Metro that pang did revisit,
seeing you gazing at me in goosebumps I stood,
two galaxies within, I sensed were closing to to merge,
coming to my senses again I find you've vanished
a microbe, you are in the air that every minute I breathe.
We will conquer time, go beyond, love has power infinite,
the encounters in flashes would intimate our impending union.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
dust has collected in this once filled room of my mine
it's floated and settled on the last few things left behind
spellbind
windchime
now i can say this empty space is all mine
8 years of pacing this room
8 years of shouting at the moon
8 years of sleeping til noon
just to ignore the fact I meant nothing to you
so much anger has made home in my bones
the way you used to speak about me felt like being casted with stones
I used to try and drown out your tasteless, colorless tone
you type "she's dramatic" in a text on your phone
I expected this feeling of indifference to feel free with no stop lights
yet this empty space
and this empty mind
coincide
with what I've known this whole time
that all too familiar feeling of restlessness has come to an end
and even though there are still memories burned into my head
I don't believe I have anything else left unsaid
I envied your callousness
I despised your self-righteousness
and i ached at your lack of consequence
what caught your eye was never my elegance
but rather my callowness
as the ice in your drink swirls and melts
and you're blaming me besides everyone else
as your anger starts to swell
just remember it was me who wasn't treated well
we can keep our heads down while our eyes meet on the street
while you pretend I don't resemble meadowsweet
and that we never danced in my kitchen with me on your feet
but
to be honest
in the end
we were always offbeat
when you chose to secede
I found you to not be an aesthete
if you could agree
to be without me
this story is begging to no longer be told
so maybe I'll revisit this time of my life when I've seen how my life will unfold
til then my king is fallen on this chess board
my feelings are buried far past the sea's shore
and I've finally
stopped keeping score
Feb 25, 2022
Feb 25, 2022 at 2:02 PM UTC
It haunts us, we are scared of it.
But we spend a lot of time thinking about it.
We walk around wanting it.
It drives us, makes us passionate.
Ditch everything we know just to chase it.
Wake up the next morning hoping to revisit.
It is different for each person, and we try to make the most of it.
Next year we make a bunch of promises, and swear to it.
No more this, no more that, but more of it.
Finally be the person we want to be, get really fit.
Time passes by, we forget it.
Maybe next year we will regret it.
Once you look around, you will remember it.
Slow things down, take a glance, it will hit.
Every second counts, do not ever quit.
You only get it once, before you split.
It is called life, cherish it.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 8:11 PM UTC
Prolong the journey to happiness
revisit the memories of converging paths
sighted images is what made these last
but we cannot be sure it is for long
Hear the woman echo
the cry of love and joy
praising a man's piece
the romance is their buoy
Faintly, I felt her touch at our last goodbye
unaware of anything around us but sheer sorrow
our eyes met and spark adjoined
our lips touched, raising an alarm in my heart
Promote the fantasies of malady
her deep dark secrets keep me near
of unspoken dreams, my lips are sealed
Along with her fingertips, dastardly teasing with suffice
her strawberry scented hair straight though sordid.
I still long for her touch, even now.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
I close my eyes for a minute,
In my mind I slowly revisit,
The memories of that house
And how I use to be in it
but we're coming to a finish
I'm saying, "I love you both",
And although I say it in English
To the both of you it's foreign,
Probably Spanish or Finnish.
I tell you 'I love you both',
Because you have both
Been part of my growth.
I tell you 'I love you',
even if I can't come around as much
My love hasn't wavered as such,
and when you two fight,
it feels like there's a tight clutch
As I grasp for air in my chest
Wondering
When the bickering
Will lay to rest.
I love you both mum and dad,
I love you the way you have loved me,
And even if we come from
A different family tree,
Share different facts of biology,
I love you no different
As if you were my biological
Parents,
and it's apparent,
that we share the same bond.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
All I know is monsters
All I see is a cold world that gets darker as the *** stir's
The future blurs to a point its so obscure it's not yours
Can't seem to stop words from causing me to go backwards
Maybe I need to go back and relearn like toddlers in diapers
There's no cures
All the fibers of my being are withering away like dead flowers
Retreating like cowards
The more I try the worse I fail, a living hell, crunch the numbers
I've done the math, a chalk board full of blunders
Nightmares occurring with my eyes wide shut
It's more then a rut
A candidate to win? Nope, I have a losing ballot
No safety blanket and no bright colors on my pallet
Hollow and cryptic
Revisit the past like I'm stuck to it with a rivet
This isn't just unfortunate it's inadequate
Chew off my arm to be free or just cannibalistic
Can I even resist it?
This dark army that I have enlisted
For to long happy never even existed
And you wonder why I tend go ballistic...
Man, *** this $hit!
©2018
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC
Writing always seems more urgent
When it's written in italics,
Even when the topic,
Is rather mundane.
Consider this example:
I like to eat sandwiches
Furthermore, everything
Seems much more urgent,
When written in bold font,
We revisit the example:
I like to eat sandwiches
...and a step even further,
Writing seems absolutely
Crucial when written in,
Bold font, with caps-lock,
Once again, we recapitulate:
I LIKE TO EAT SANDWICHES
At this point, it seems as though
I am imparting unto you matters
Of the utmost severity, that could
Be the difference between life and death,
...but really, I just like sandwiches.
This amuses me.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:48 AM UTC