Not feeling so sure
Unconfident and uncertain
Shy and coy
Scared to death
Feeling so unsure
But will I take the risk?
You love me—you are sure—
I shall not fear mistake—
I shall not cheated wake—
Some grinning morn—
To find the Sunrise left—
I need not start—you’re sure—
That night will never be—
When frightened—home to Thee I run—
To find the windows dark—
And no more Dollie—mark—
Be sure you’re sure—you know—
I’ll bear it better now—
If you’ll just tell me so—
Than when—a little dull Balm grown—
Over this pain of mine—
Silent now the television
Silent now the telephone
Silently I sit here,
Silent and alone.
I’m not sure why the poems
Are much harder now to write
Not sure why the sleep
Comes harder every night
Not sure if all the trials in life
Are harder now to take
I’m not sure that when the morning comes
That I will even wake.
If I was asked to take a risk
Not sure that I would dare
I’m not sure if I was dying
Anyone would care
Not sure that Heaven waits for me
Behind the pure white Pearly Gate
If I asked for fifteen minutes more
Not sure the Reaper-man would wait.
I’m not sure if my mistakes in life
Outweigh any good
Not even sure that honestly
I’ve done the best I could
Not sure when folks remember me
If they will grimace, or they’ll grin
Not sure official scorekeepers
Would vote my life a win.
Not sure if I have lived before
Not sure if there’s a second chance
Not even sure with lessons
I could learn to dance this dance
The world makes me dizzy
The carousel spins too fast.
Not sure my horse could win the derby
The brass ring might have already passed.
But I'm not sure.
Silently I sit here.
when the proficient poison of sure sleep
bereaves us of our slow tranquillities
and He without Whose favour nothing is
(being of men called Love)upward doth leap
from the mute hugeness of depriving deep
with thunder of those hungering wings of His,
into the lucent and large signories
—i shall not smile,beloved;i shall not weep:
when from the less-than-whiteness of thy face
(whose eyes inherit vacancy)will time
extract his inconsiderable doom,
when these thy lips beautifully embrace
and when thy bashful hands assume
silence beyond the mystery of rhyme
I've been thinking lately
That not everything is correctly
Thought over or treasured
Stuck in the endeavored
Nine to five schedule
That most claim is the devil
And can't seem to think
That there's more than ink
On a paycheck
Or a car wreck
We convince ourselves
To put feelings on shelves
And disregard all
That don't fall
Right into place
Right in our face
And keep us from working
Or keep us lurking
Around for a better us
Longer than we fuss
Or believe we must
Stuck in our lust
From clubs and dancing
To money and prancing
Pretending we're better
Than those who write a letter
Out of hopes to reach someone
And get help for what we've done
I hope we wake up
And fill our cup
With hope and happiness
With fun and a happy dance
Rather than judgement
And being hellbent
On being hateful
As sure as day changes to night,
We will soon forget the love shared
the midnight conversations
the 'good mornings'
the 'good nights'
the wasted 'I love you's'
And I will forget your crooked smile
And you will forget my lame attempts to get through a joke without laughing
Sure is what I am.
i am afraid we have begun to dissociate,
unable to dissolve, I dissipate
we lavish emotion, laugh laudably
and cry with our larynx ripped out of our throats
i just need a little attention
'cause it's midday
and the midwife has a migraine,
with spoiled milk and clogged drains,
laundry a mile-long with tenuous children
tense with grimace and gray
we believe uncertainty for the hopeless and expectations for the great
the subtle hum
followed by slithering smirks
followed by snarls and sneers and weird sober
followed by small town dramas
and big time hypocrites.
The fuel you used to pulse in
Has left and I've gone super cold
Like a snake you slithered out
Just as quickly as you slithered in
You took my thoughts
Threw them out the window
Hoping someday I would bury them
And love you
Suspiciously you're feelings
Have changed from loving me
To not being sure
You were glad when I walked away
You asked to still be friends
When I looked back for a much
Longer time than I hoped to
So don't come back with those
Brown eyes that used to represent
My clear skies
And don't come back with that
Getting me hooked all over again
You ripped my wings and made me
Convince myself that I truly
I have no idea if you truly loved me
Or just wanted to fuck me
Until you fell so fast you were
Unsure of the time but so sure
Alpha-Omega is with you, and bids you go forward with a patient but steady momentum.
Keep yourself to the Old Truth.
Is that of the seasons which are cyclical as the wheels of your sowing and reaping contraptions.
Not sure about the future,
it gets no better, is the rumor.
Not sure about the past,
it sure did go by fast.
Not sure about the present,
right now, I'm popping a tent.
Not sure about the time,
how long do we stay in prime.
Not sure about me,
on that issue, I'll bargain a plea.
Not sure about you,
a friendship still under review.
Not sure how we got here,
someday we will all disappear.
Not sure what life's about,
but I can still make the girls shout.
Not sure about money,
having none, makes eyes runny.
Not sure about sex,
or when I'll get it next.
Not sure about the weather,
when it's cold, I wear my leather.
Not sure why I wrote this,
why are there holes in Swiss.
Not sure about what's real,
or why my skin I like to peel.
Not sure if you're aware,
if I loose my penis, I have a spare.
Not sure if any of this makes sense,
just putting in my two cents.