"sicks" poems
Four weeks before,
An aroma of pine that sicks to the walls of your house,
Pictures that dangle from ten feet in the air,
The fake gas fire place smells like burning rubber,
Socks that don't fit hanging from the fire place,
Kids laughing and running around with new phones and car keys,
Four weeks before,
Family members talking politics around a turkey dinner,
Manhunt and kid the can games in the backyard,
Grandmas asking what to get for Christmas,
The a pumpkin candle releasing its scent apawn the bathroom,
Four weeks before,
School work piling up on my new iPad,
A sad break up from separation summer,
Closing the windows to keep out the fall breeze,
A hurricane?
Four weeks before that?
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
Its that time again
Puttin on that outfit that wont quit
Brush floss chewin on two sicks
Of that favorite gum
Just in case u might get you some
Where is it this time
The park the hill side you love so much
Doesnt matter as long as we touch
Time flys by faster than sound
Once realized its time to end our rounds
As we kiss good by i see the tear from your eye
I say nothing but for words cant express why
We must keep living this lie
One day one day things maybe different
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
I didn't sleep last night
Tossing and turning from another body count driven by a terrorist organization with no true goal then to cause mayhem
God take me back to the USSR
The statues of blue collared workers in the streets
It wouldn't matter if you were a carpenter, a doctor, or a farmer.
You were all on the same train heading to your families at the end of the day.
Take me back to the time people didn't profit off the water sold to the thirsty
Take me back to the day when people didn't drive a dollar from the sicks oxygen
By god take me to when a potato farmer wasn't spending more for his dirt then he was getting in return for his natural resources
I am ****** off.
The generation we are growing up in is being coddled.
Our hands don't need to be held because we are forming our own opinions that have been foreign to you.
We believe in what happened behind your door is your business.
Because love is love and we are all in this world together
Your generation has not always picked the best leader.
This time isn't seeming any different.
How can we appoint a man that isn't confident enough to show his bald spot and is forced to wear a toupee.
Well let me tell you something.
America is bald. And there is no toupee to cover up are **** ups
We are not a broken generation we are just being shadowed by forefathers that set guidelines for a corrupt corporate government.
Sit the **** down and give us our voice back
Or we will pack up.
And go back to the USSR
God please take me back to the USSR
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
"A little nonsense now and then
is relished by the wisest men"
Does anyone still play guilty pleasures?
OKAY!
1. Troll 2 lady.
Too. Fun in Balloonland Narrator lady.
3. "Any" drum majorette.
"Speak roughly to your little boy
and beat him when he sneezes
he only does this to annoy
because he knows it teases."
Fore! Nance Peterlini, shouting obscenities.
"Silk, do you know an atomic trigger from a Balgarian ***** Because I sure don't."
5. Slingshot and P.J. in a swampside threeway.(only halfway guilty...three-quarters?)
"A ****** talking baby alligator, that's purple, and has really big jaws?"
Sicks. Honor and Glory...after Honor gets a nose job.
"Harlem is the experience playground for all people interested in becoming detectives."
7. Wanda Duvalle...tied up...in a shack.
Ate. Lynn, from The Dark Power.
Nine. Colonel Hogan's...Secretary(?)
"I want to stop dreaming about fire from heaven, and melting men. Lasers."
10. Ming the Mercilesses' Daughter.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 9:25 PM UTC
Can I tell you
that I sure did miss your lovely ways
you use to play ray charles
and dance around with just your socks on
you'd tell me I worked too much I should've took a day off.
yeah yeah yeaaaaaah honey im sorry I didn't take a sick day
but now im takin sicks days being sick of not seeing you
my vinyls are all worn out
And the mixtapes you gave me are all worn out
Kinda like my heart
the cds they skip now
and im trying to recapture that melody
of the shower water hittin the floor
and your head burried in the covers
asking me to come to bed
I was to tired then
but now im not tired enough
oh boy
wow
oh boy
this could go on
and on
and on
and on
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 4:59 AM UTC
it all adds up
but you can't love
what you can't
have mock
you.
you most certainly can’t do that.
you will not consume.
Consumption will usurp you epically.
your talismans are annulled eventually.
your bulimic heart will divide shadows
with darker shadows.
a darker
dark.
cut them like cake. divide your passing into long spikes of utter void.
it all adds up
but you can’t love
what’s not there
to love
you
but quite the opposite.
and the opposite
of love
is watching Nothing
die -
but you thought
it was something
before it devoured
you
like a morsel
of speck.
like a light.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
this is not a poem
but a declaration
of defeat, a concession
the things i can’t change
the feelings i can’t make
as i comeback to this world
i’m not even whole, not even healed
from whatever diagnosis
from whatever disease
that sicks this life
that plunges the heart and mind
i swallowed pills, the happy ones
i even injected acceptance
i’m not even sure if it will lead to healing
or just a temporary silencing
of the chaos, of the storm
that lives within my soul
but whatever it might be
wherever it might take me
i now understand that not all lost battle is a defeat
and not all who concede are weak
and now is my turn, ohhh
i concede to this beautiful life
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Sometimes I like to pretend I'm drunk
In the middle of the night on the road
I like to pretend I'm a punk
As memories of my childhood flowed
Big child, small man, I am nothing of them
Of my own kingdom I am at the helm
It gets a tidy bit lonely from time to time
But wanting to be left alone is not a crime,
Is it ?
Is it ?
Starry nights underneath our blankets
Don't shine as your eyes used to
I'm always on my own little planets
And I never travel in my spaceship with you
I always want to be above
And always talk about the sky
It sicks you and it sicks me too as I get high
But anyway we still have love,
Do we ?
Do we ?
Life has been a dream since I've grown
It gives you the belief of so much more
That in the end like a paper plane you'll soar
But it's too weak against a stone
I have no control over anything
A spectator of my own life stream
Thanks to this game I learned one thing
That if you never dream
There is no nightmare
No nightmare
A bottle of gin, a bottle of wine
Whatever anyway, they're all water
I'm drowning inside, I've crossed the line
I hibernate in the middle of summer
Sometimes it's all too much
Things crash down and crumble and break
Through shaky fingers you say I'm a wreck
As I see me as such...
One day I will be
Eventually the perfect symbol of love
If l have to lose myself to finally solve
This mess that is my soul, that is me
I will never be ready for this
Even if it brings you a time of bliss
My salvation won't happen so don't wait for eternity
After all, what is my mysery ?
Before yours
Take those doors
But maybe
One day I will be
Eventually
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 6:21 AM UTC
When the doors of heaven were open wide,
the divine rays of god restored the dawn.
The holy waters were then sprinkled,
and the soul of earth was baptized.
The chromatic aisle was then instilled,
washing off the somber hue.
The odor of sanctity was then diffused,
the state of misery was blown away.
The sicks and the spirits were then anointed,
and all the sufferings were healed,
and sins of humans were redeemed.
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 8:12 AM UTC
Wear a covering made of gauze
that fits over the nose and mouth;
Protecting not to catch dust and
particles for the work not to pause—
Perhaps be thrown out, be discri-
minated, and received some shout.
Toil from saving, eyes go swollen
sick from the unseen shark in the dark.
Those shadey spots could be seen
thick and thin that left lots of mark.
Tears shall fall, hope shall not die.
Weary sighs, never heard a lie.
It holds them chain—sicks are
cheered for their pleas are heard.
It holds them chain—lives are saved,
not themselves but those who're brave.
Children are crying, waiting for them
coming.
Hands are trembling, but there are
musts of working.
Things have never been solid neither
have been veered;
But the workers must be protected
and be revered.
True heroes—indeed!
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 12:50 PM UTC