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"scramblings" poems
I spy with my weatherd eyes A broken clock that shows me better times from my past life. As these spiteful tides have turned me Into a grumpy soul. This desecrated ship of doubt It's slowly peeling me away like a potato peeler I need to grab my papers and maps To find the breath that I was once searching for. These scramblings of ramblings So nonsensical As they lead me to the fact That you hate that I bite my nails Like a hangnail you chew me apart, Gifting me these splinters from this shovel That I used as a kid to build mountains of possibilities Which now leaves me a hole, To bury my soul with. Each stone I turn I see these regrets That look like texts I that shouldn't have sent. The heavens from above Have blocked their facebooks Casting her curses in cursive Leaving me with my grave, My shovel, Memories of you.
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Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 6:14 PM UTC
My Grave, My Shovel
Bring the noise in your head. Let it splatter on the wall. I can help you find the meaning In the scramblings that you find so puzzling. Lift your voice to the heavens; Raise your fists at the gods, If it helps you assemble All the fragments of a life you thought was gone for good. Take no more time To wallow in your doubt. Let's seize this moment To figure it out. The answers lie inside of you, I can help you see your truth. Together we will walk the path, That winding frozen rivery glass. I can melt your lonely frozen heart, If you permit me just a start. Anger has been your bridgroom And you feed on the aingst. You are as the speck of dust Swirling in the sunny ray through the window blind. So, suffer at your own will; Hurt at your own behest. Know that just outside the shadow There is a hand that waits For you to reach out for it's touch. Take no more time To wallow in your doubt. Let's seize this moment To figure it out. The answers lie inside of you, I can help you see your truth. Together we will walk the path, That winding frozen rivery glass. I can melt your lonely frozen heart, If you give me just a start.
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Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
Just a Start
********* on a saturday night lower case ramblings and public house scramblings, beer at a fiver a pint. too many troubles one or two or more doubles, ********* on a saturday night.
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
the new cathedral class
Hast thou ever had this feeling young fellow? When thy stomach billows, missing one thou hast not met? No sorrows, nor regrets, ive thrown in every bet, as frenzied for one I've been, ive not heard her voice!!! A delicate choice? To wait? To navigate words thou had meant to say? To write scramblings on a page dedicated to one!!! I'm a hopeless romantic, Tis, So moribund!!! Hath thou young fellow? Let me rephrase mine own question.... Hast thou gone mad over a heroine? One of passionate words, As in when every time thou hast read those medicinal Scripture's thy own self gets lost in the heat? Burst or ******** plasma she creates in the most fertile places of mine mind!!!!! For far to long ive been blind, Yet now can see, Like a dream I'm squeezed into tomato juice altitude, For to be the fool in the rain, Still waiting, No gain, Just stains of the longing I so earnestly want in this crimson psyche..... Is it all wrong young fellow? Because it all feels so right!!!    Like an afterlife ive searched for to many ages youthful listener!!!!!!!!!!
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
mire , ach a cares ( crazy, but who cares) irish dialect!!!