"swot" poems
I have very little time left
it's such a frustrating thing
still so much to learn
it's a on going mission
If I don't know it I go mad
if I don't acquire it, it makes me sad
I try never to miss a trick
never to slow down on this on going mission
I try to keep my wit's up to 110 percent
push myself to the edge and ask for more
to me it's a mission it's a war of nutrition
as I swot up on my on going mission
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
Being a slave,
the world knows that,
Making me to behave,
like a labour swot.
Ignoring my wishes,
and my fresh burns too,
Forcing me to switch,
and giving bad works to do.
Tolerating those inches,
I had done,
Climbing those trenches,
I wondered it fun.
Nevertheless screeching,
swimming the skinny lake,
Now I am bleaching,
the past person awake.
The mindless new philosophies,
had considered me insane,
Proving their abnormalities,
now are all in vain.
Stop being a slave of yourself,
which can’t gain you anything,
Start a new life with own self,
by spreading out new wings.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
it wasn’t me who invented love by my ignorance
the same way the painter doesn’t have the heart
to mix pure colors
it was there
in the times when I used to swot the differences
between useful beautiful and pleasing
first of all there grew a tree with red leaves
like man’s or woman’s lips before the first kiss
leaves were another kind of hands
trembling
preparing to fall
rustle over rustle till the last silence
only by chance I shared the same shadow
with a stranger
for the jealousy of those who did not know me
I waited for centuries close to the old tree trunk
my cheek against the dry ground
I couldn’t refuse him when he asked me
to lend him a leaf
and I didn’t even know
where do young butterflies hide when it rains bitter
people say that
after a day that tree was brought down
today no one kills himself
because of love
they’re simply killed little by little
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC