"sored" poems
Blueberry lemon juice
Gangly goose
Cruel brew moon
Roam
Soft lovely Mary
Sailor Taylor
Your lord, sinking sored
Vagon Ford
Virginia east coast roast
Most test
Chest, mess
Darling Dublin
Idaho, Ioawa
Cine noir
Lullaby
Mistic bee
Free my blue at the noon
Moaning soon
And the ring mostly seen
Chase my word
Siren fog
Heaven myths
Lick a lip
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
I tried
Slashing the wrists of poverty
With an EBT swipe
But he isn’t merely food stamps
He is needle
He is malt
Licker of oppressed ********
****** dreams
Fellatio’d by sored gums
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
oasis soul
aches open sored genre of suffixes
or not enough crying alone
right natural science psychologists know
the medications and forms to get the payments
I am drugged amazement willing
to watch
and sigh
dreaming of a good time, dose shelters
the destination
faster than reality.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 3:32 AM UTC
Since you called,
I've been writing,
here and there,
truthfully,
skinning the night,
searching for meat.
I've peeled back
the clouds: crimson,
the sky: split,
the stars: lit like the mossed edges of a scab,
the cosmos: a ****
I'm getting weary,
all of this beneath me,
the earth becoming
a speck of dust:
absurd.
The kind of hurt you like to dole:
still there.
Can't I be an astronaut in peace?
Do you like the flattening of me,
into a pancake
like the night:
hammered and nailed
across the hemisphere?
I am the gravity-crushed,
the soul-sored, the black-hole ripped.
Opened and steaming,
I'm under the sky.
The emergency room of the brinking night drugs
and
a story of gleaming scars is my heart.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
Because he was Pop-pop and farmed each day
He had sunshine darkened skin that soon blotted.
Fingers bruised, cracked, and hair sliver grey,
Cancer sored hands soon quickly rotted.
Sometimes he would touch me with those hands,
Although he wasn’t always loving.
A boy of seven years never understands
And so when he left, I felt nothing.
Delaware has a part, of cornfield mazes,
dirt paths, muddy ponds and teary willow trees.
Whenever I go back I notice changes
But still sense what’s left of Pop-pop’s disease.
Along harsh harvest palms and hammered nails,
Weaved a life’s loving work, now damaged details.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
What of the stories,what of you,what of the words or what of my dew
Lies and lies
Strangled the fliers
Witnessed it, he has admirers
Sweetness and tartness ignored
Mulberry swallowed but in the heart it sored
What would the 'dead lips' pen
When it had not the truth,son
Curses though slip off
Feelings be never any drawf
For to hate
Once there should have been love's bait tight
How dangling and dwindling
No shore was he ever kindling
Hours and hours
It takes no par
Touch not that knight
He has swords defending with might
How barren is he and
Knows not any scabbard
Those wands of enigma
That suits not the noble hands off stigma
Suitors of temper
Shooters of blood towels much damper
Is it your blood ?
Shut-up for god's sake
Let's arrange him a slumber
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
Four little chicks waiting in the nest
One plucked out and waved about
A predator on its daily route
Three little chicks waiting in the nest
Who’ve been fed and fed again
They’ve grown to be quite a pest
They give their mother no rest
Three little chicks should leave the nest
One chick was given a poke and fell out the nest
This chick has never woke from such a poke
Another jumped right off the nest
With puffed out breast
The chick sored with great speed
Straight into a tree the chick hit
It’s skull went split
The last chick out the nest
The mother bird gave it her all
That’s all she thought when the last one did fall
But this chick was the brightest of all
It flew with caution
it kept in the sky
This chick could fly
Unlike the others this chick did not die
This little chick was the lone survivor
Chick was the only one to thrive
Something in its eyes gave it drive
Our little chick grew up
And had five chicks of it’s own
A proud mother
These chicks took a dive of their own
Only few had flown
The mother once again left alone
Had nothing left she was weak old and frail
Barely making it out the nest
She can remember giving it her best
But now was time for her to rest
She flapped her wings and jumped off the nest
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC
Listening to your music makes me very bored
So I headed downtown for the things I can’t afford
I walked into the crowded lake till my feet got sored
If the traffic questioned me I’d say I was lured
For a glass of ice and an old album I stored
It made four. I listened till the choir singers broke their last vocal chord.
For years they trademarked desire, eventually it topped the Billboard
the train got jammed midway, again this team had scored
I didn’t say anything; I even signed the peace accord
All the piano keys marched out my door, saying ‘cursed was my Lord!’
I couldn’t sing well, but I walked behind them with a sword
Only my guitar slept soundly; at midnight it even snored
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 5:42 PM UTC
Bummed for the joys
Of sunshine and paradise
Lost in the grid
On your visions I bleed
I can't take you places
Being just a rock n' roll kid
I defer to your sight
Flights and mischiefs
The smoke that fills my lungs
Are full of decisions
Withered with thoughts
Failed attempts and secret missions
I am a fool for one
My footprints is your basis
I feel the sun on my spine
I can't take you places
Sored heart bruised arms
Shimmering mind but still a loser
You are the world
And I can't take you places
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
In reflection of minor moments that ended before I had understand or recognition of their value
I stumbled across a time of mine
as a child
scurrying through a park
hurrying to play before the dark
came to take freedom away.
From the corner of my eye
I spied
a wood pigeon
struggling against the snag
of dense ivy vine.
Its leg revealed trapped between
frantic flapping
and panicked call.
I crawled a careful crawl
ignoring thorns and nettle stings
I used to cover my approach.
Reaching out
denying maddened pecks
and talon sctatchs to detour me,
I gently held the bird
between leg and hand
as the other hand tore ivy vine.
Released it sored.
Swift and gone.
The throb of its shaking heart still echoing in my palm
as this memory echoes in my heart.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 3:06 PM UTC
She stood there in front of him,
When the sun was then gleaming,
An enticing smile,
She that looked upon him,
It was but a day,
A blink,
Before he had known
That the lover’s eye was blinding,
Thus year's had passed, and
his rose began shiverling ,
A youth lost to unkind times,
Wisdom grew inside his heart,
he went to spread them,
Like lovers do,
Only to learn why poets spoke in tunes,
Could the rodents meet the eagle's heights,
Could they understand the lover's heart?
When freedom sored high above the clouds,
when chaos was left behind,
His ego did not rule,
She looked at him confused,
Lost in the clutch of time,
It wasn't her who grew,
To rewrite the script of what they knew,
The tokens turned to favor him,
She was lost at sea,
A ship capsizing
Would she find the sun to light
Her day, the lighthouse to guide her way?
He no longer cared,
He no longer cared,
When the eagle's sore to the moon,
The rodents fall from view.
-L.D.
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 11:09 AM UTC
Dark humour is like a a pair of working legs
Not everyone gets it
So don't get restless if we seem a little off handed
The ofendments are pilling up
Time we set free the fragile figure, fatigued and fractured being
The sweet aroma is intoxicating and before we puts the soul free
We'll see that the rage is take care of
Take the edge off the edge lord we need to talk about something happening
something sensitive
Put an end to it
The ego sandwiched between sadness and rage
Checking the sand for that one page
that missing piece from the formation of mind
The landmines explode,
the battlefield is not to be explored, enough corpses pile up already
If it's that bad why not go to a doctor
Or maybe a medic who can mend the mind by words
But stigma is the monster that feeds on affection
The gory infection glorified
You can't be gone, you got everything
Look at the reflection see the demon staring back
Can't take meds, the pain would be over
Our first fresh breath might just be our last
How do we betray the one that kept up from creating one last time
Stopped us from singing one last time
Now as we switch sides, the insides are growing
It was first time we looked over a glowing bridge at night
First time without calculating the lethal height
The moon was full, and dragons sored hight, bears and brothers waiting across
We took a pause
It was beautiful
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 12:09 AM UTC