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"tatered" poems
Potatoes Mashed Frenched Fried Baked Sauted Whipped Tatered Boiled Hashed Hasslebacked Chipped Roasted Potatoes
0
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
eagle-poetry
Potatoes
Potatoes Mashed Frenched Fried Baked Sauted Whipped Tatered Boiled Hashed Hasslebacked Chipped Roasted Potatoes
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14
Days slip by with remains of my emptyness cast aside like bottles apon a vacant highways path. How often had I found little comfort in the arms that knew nothing and only lingered for payments often underpaid  in moments best left to forgotten like nights of youth kissed in a lovers lipstick called regret . Sometimes it takes a good demon's  burn to pull your head outta the cloud's. And in these empty highways reflection often i'd found little more than rest stops and regrets to fuel my anger and true sense of I dont give a **** Faces of a blank canvas heading toward new horizens and bitter end's. Children lost clinging to people more clueless than there youth cast logic could bare. No one's home in the lost.' Only found in the emptyness of a new destination. I cannot say wear I became such a heartless soul. Only point you towards another route and send you off to find something that would resemble a traggic play called happiness. A broken down machine shook  by  other's in hope for a free treat. Some just for the hell of seeing it swerve ive long since learned to respond in a stock sense like some robot no true thought  left in my blackend soul. Dark roads spread like snakes across tatered highways soon to be forgotten by all. Rest stop ahead one mile. We gather a lost audience with a shared flaw. Tired of travel some drenched in life. Togather we gather in seconds as soon we all do depart. I cannot say ive spent the time only to erase it in vain. But a highway is a womans love never returned only taken we no longer feel the desire to give. In darkest hours of mornings soon to be aproaching light I sit watching the lights chase off into the distance swallowed into a never seen again void. So many chasing dreams others just chasing a new stage. All of us headed towards yet another dim lit destination. I always dread my return.
0
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
john-patrick-robbins-aka-gonzo
The Stop Off Of My Often Written Decline
Days slip by with remains of my emptyness cast aside like bottles apon a vacant highways path. How often had I found little comfort in the arms that knew nothing and only lingered for payments often underpaid  in moments best left to forgotten like nights of youth kissed in a lovers lipstick called regret . Sometimes it takes a good demon's  burn to pull your head outta the cloud's. And in these empty highways reflection often i'd found little more than rest stops and regrets to fuel my anger and true sense of I dont give a **** Faces of a blank canvas heading toward new horizens and bitter end's. Children lost clinging to people more clueless than there youth cast logic could bare. No one's home in the lost.' Only found in the emptyness of a new destination. I cannot say wear I became such a heartless soul. Only point you towards another route and send you off to find something that would resemble a traggic play called happiness. A broken down machine shook  by  other's in hope for a free treat. Some just for the hell of seeing it swerve ive long since learned to respond in a stock sense like some robot no true thought  left in my blackend soul. Dark roads spread like snakes across tatered highways soon to be forgotten by all. Rest stop ahead one mile. We gather a lost audience with a shared flaw. Tired of travel some drenched in life. Togather we gather in seconds as soon we all do depart. I cannot say ive spent the time only to erase it in vain. But a highway is a womans love never returned only taken we no longer feel the desire to give. In darkest hours of mornings soon to be aproaching light I sit watching the lights chase off into the distance swallowed into a never seen again void. So many chasing dreams others just chasing a new stage. All of us headed towards yet another dim lit destination. I always dread my return.
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30