"rhym" poems
I am not social
I am scarse
I dont need to show up
If my heart does not ask
I am not available
I am not a farce
I dont need attention
Atleast not by the vast
I say i dont care
I say it, again.
Again and again
Till it feels like a mask
No need to follow
No need to like
I can grow, i can flow
I can be a social dislike
My talent is mine
It's whispers are mine
For me, for me
For me is the rhym.
You can leave me
You can, you can
Leave me you can
But i still love the best i can
I love the best i can.
Mar 25, 2023
Mar 25, 2023 at 7:19 PM UTC
at first things were great with my mom and my dad
she should have stayed best she could have had.,
most would call it shallow to leave be on your own,
not some tantrom all around disaster
day by day a year matured faster
I was only nine helping mamma cross the line,
child support goes for my stepbrothers fine.
maybe when he was my age he belonged in a love cage,. 10 His own mind rage,.
but sneakin out at night for some hood fight ! back to 21 remember that he died right.
only one who cried long my heart syed a new song,
never understood. cant we just get along?
yea you say a bad kid, as a parent not helpin had did..
with learning had hid,
hurting words created
thats why my brother deflated...
mom I was good kid seain what was right never under stood you'd rather quit or split
You know I was you're hero you made me just some zero...
once was indepenent then boom the mind flent,
now your'e just insane controlled by cliffs chain,
but you know that I dipped along the way I tripped
one thing that I fell, atleast I'm out my shell
led out on the train achieved my life regain,
sorry that I hit him,
your hubby just was cruel
as a lil Rhym he through me in the tubby
hit me with his bottles called me fat and chubby
beaming red eyes screaming all night crys,
all on my own,
brother helped when I got thrown.
even at four got pushed to the floor.... by the way just more to say
Once i hit twelve I ran for he door
Thid bad man for the rest of her life
she said yes to be his wife,
with his big ring knee on the floor
I just think 'Ding hells at the door...
moms the baby inside screams save me
plus her dad got out the knife he was crazy her whole life
by time i Got to ten my mind was in a den,.
every day was yelling,
just be soft and sweet by telling,
I know you are just scared And once you really cared.
with your so called man,
the one with no life planned
You see I left the road called far west
with out your'e hand I just want the best,
one day mom you wont see me
one day mom you'll be at rest..
cause that mess left bullets in your'e chest :'( </3
Arrywillbeloved2013© copy right protected
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
I can see now the injury..
The tear which ripped through a soul..
The irresistable gravitational force it has..
An internal super nova, made blackhole..
See the bandit who robs children?
Of their fantasy world of "safe"..
Their image of a benevolent universe..
Hallowed by a hole deep in inner space..
Time folds there as it captures..
Pain too emense to fit in inside..
Frozen solid for later feeling..
Moments from which we all hide..
Layers and piles of "protection"..
From hurts too bitter to taste..
Too cutting and raw in the knowing..
Too "gone" for time to waste..
Some more "protected" than others..
With their egos and illusion of control..
These are the ones most troubled..
Their false lives have swallowed them whole..
Now see the ones who show their pain?
Their layers suspended in time?
Perhaps some pulled to look inward..
Through the love of music, art, or rhym..
And others finally forced by fate's will..
To surrender their powerless pieces..
Emptied of excess, their souls cry out..
"I am Startdust; I am that which never ceases"..
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
Have I lost my inspiration to write?
To even rhym
I feel as though I have
Im a writer at heart
A nerd
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
F* my style
I don't
Have to
Rhym
Maybe I'm back there
Doing my time
In this room
Called attitude
You work me
Like a dime
I ain't gotta
Make money move
Just living
A hell of
A ride
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
Zombie mind
In the middle of this night, zombie mind.
I struggle to complete a line that rhym…
Pegasus; horses for courses.
Run a pantomime race using daisies for shoelaces.
A world apart, after being thrown out of a bar.
Fields afar; I sleep under the stars.
Saturday through Sunday;
These…are…the…good times!
Monday to Friday,
I am oh so tired of this poetic production line.
This process must be worth it…
Country music? I prefer to leave it
And find a better drum kit, with a louder hi-hat hit!
Prince became a symbol of our time.
Cinderella’s thimble, sewing needle;
Cotton on a reel…a dress made by mice.
Eyes are closing, no more movies showing.
Find your own way to see.
Only you know where you are going…
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC