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Rezium Jun 2018
Honor your mother and Father
It's a hard constant thought
It's been taught
So many times yet I can never keep that locked

I honor her even though she's dead
I honor him yet he's gone too
Seeing him though is a pack of lies
All I see is a glutenous fool
So spare your "tries"
I'm not your misconcepted tool
It's not what a dad does

You can call him by a title yet his colors will show another .

Sugar coat it like I'm a naive child but after a while
I saw that smile become a...
Liar.
Trust me you say
"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE THAT TODAY!"
s t o p  i t

I've had 3 and believe me they have names...
But they are set by me.
Grand
Liar
Tryer
And don't try buying tryer cause liar could never be the supplier like the grand who showed me I can go higher than all of...Cliars

But what does it matter when you're a brick wall who shuns me...
A holy Trinity but more earthly.
Grand if you can read this, thank you.
Liar, hope you're safe but buzz off
Tryer, test me and you'll be on the ground soon
Gillian Annie Jul 2019
Who Am I

I think a lot about this question
Who am I?
And who am I, really?
I’m just a girl
Who looks like she’s ten
And is really a woman
I’m a college graduate (oh my!)
Who has a great path set out for her
But isn’t sure it’s the one for her
I’m just a dreamer
Who thinks about bugs and books
Being a park ranger, a writer, maybe president
But prefers to hang out with her dog
I’m just a tryer
Who makes a lot of mistakes
Who used to believe embarrassment was the best teacher
But now thinks it’s probably just the fastest
I’m also a sister
Both an older and a younger one
Who loves her siblings
But also hates them
And desperately wants to be a good example for them
I’m a traveller
Who has been to more countries than states
But really would rather stay at home
And read a good book, or watch Lord of the Rings
I’m a worrier
And God, do I worry
I worry about my family, and my pets
I worry about money and losing my skills
I worry about meeting people and embarrassing myself
But often I just worry about that question,
Who am I?
Designer time
making moments that hang off the bangs in your hair
and sharing the plan with the minute man,

missiles are made from marmalade, my
jam sandwiches from the half hours that
two chickens laid,

I'm inside an arcade game
machined into the square route

Dreams are peculiar
I won a toaster or one of ten
other innocent prizes, but I was
sat in my shorts, not satin shorts
but they should have been

then I woke up in Benidorm
or Bangladesh
with Oliver next to me
saying
' another fine mess'

He travels freely
could be astrally
I'm not totally
sure.

They're in colour
which is tax deductible
on the yearly return

and what do I learn from this?
how to kiss like Valentino?
sing like Shapiro?
dress like Michelangelo?

Nothing like a tryer
so I always try to remember
which is nothing like the real thing
in the meantime
I dream on.
David Apr 2018
The tryer can try,
and have everything go their way.

This makes everything else seem impossible.

The achiever of things does
and makes everything seem possible.
Tim Jan 2021
Slow-going wheels roll further
Slow men walk the earth chewing french fries
Slow night diminish slow, with an embarked illusion
Slow me, drinking slow, from the bottle that no shining fear dive deep down
With ******* my life dangles, my hands weak and wildered
With somebody in my mind, I slowly, subconciously **** myself
Somebody betrays somebody, denies her name, or his
Denies the carnaval-looking blur of a dreadful pain
Carnavals, haven’t been to carnavals for years, but I know how they dismay
I’m aware of myself at some degree, it satisfies me for I can look up and stray
I’m aware of the passion of my source of pain, yet I don’t know
It makes me shiver like an aimless stone
Pain walks upon the geography

Slow rhymes mask my voice through an unwalked scenery
Slow songs hit my soul like the smell of gasoline, each night, tonight
Tonight I struggle to find my bed in guilt of missing one more day, being loss of control on one more chance
One more glance, I prayed my dandy days to be, yet I don’t believe
And I don’t trust in anything that I admire, that I’ve never had, tonight especially
My abilities burn, burn, burn to a crimson coldness, I can neither get cold nor freeze
Every dismal day has something to teach, but I’m stone deaf and blind since the birth of my criminal being
Said that I’m one old tryer, one slow man that died earlier, living via senses
I’m breathing for nothing, as I sensed, at least that’s a good thing I guess
Tonight, I’m breathing my own graceless dirt, I’m breathing someone that will become me of some other kind
Pain barks its all greed

I was told of slow massacres of liberty, and I saw it with my bare eyes
I was told of slow tensions that could shape an affair from my fears of love, but I didn’t mind until the time I got clipsed to the iron bars as I tossed to someone’s wall
I got clipsed to myself all along the snipers’ castles where the mushrooms just fix to die, the point I always teased myself
There’s always been slow approachings to a mind’s eye felony
There’s always been a slow matter of time to catch the agony of others’ existence, even when I appreciated with someone that didn’t mean to mean good, or meant to be fine
Decades sewed blisters on my elbows, knees, my manhood, my ******* manhood
And my functional sides started not to make a beneficial man out of me, it’s clear tonight
I see a barroom right across the buildings in front, it boils with such huge river of crowds, but I don’t really want to walk there because of pain
It pours my skin down to the ground like as an axe shaving me off me
The air’s already blue now, blue as a kidnapped kid’s wishes from the little circle of life
I’m blue but I can’t get mixed up to the airwaves as long as I try to sharpen myself
I try to sharpen myself with the most lobed piece of stick, and this causes everything I abandoned to be a nightmare in my sleep, and my daytime ramblings, and it causes a killing pain
Pain disregards

Slow strings of reality judder this up that down, clang all the faith one man has once althrough his wasted life
Slow links of chain drags the cruelty from the claws of a cryptic eastward state
There’s no boundries through from everything I know to nothing I don’t know
Idols and spooned clowns look the same, sleeves of lies put them onto an act and they resurrect on my small buzzing TV
Everything can make a man commit suicide, as far as all I’ve learned from life
As far as I can teach, amountless glasses of whiskey solves that if someone looks for an easy way out
To get away from the streetlamps that targeted you, to brick up some brand new shelter against the interrogations, to be on the lam, to run, slowly
To leave the other sycophants on the midway, to break some glasses, to craft some endless rebellion, are the other options I guess
To bless someone that don’t even care, and then the lifelong heart attacks...
I don’t pay to much to my custody of survival, I have my own property on this sphere
I can pull out some dignity, as I have it on my mind, and this just gives men like me pain
Pain doesn’t tell much these days, it just attacks and attaches and grabs me by taking firm steps towards my bones
The unbreakable threads of my shadows push me to same pathetic nosedives, tonight I feel it intensively, befriending with pain
Pain, it speaks my eulogy
Slow pain, it wrecks my fantasies
Qualyxian Quest Dec 2022
I think God may be beyond good and evil
Like blue and flickering fire
O'Really stole a stallion
I remember Richard Pryor

Solitude is peaceful
And sad
And lonely
Higher.

Bipolar
Older
Told her
Tryer

      Tired.
Qualyxian Quest May 2019
The poetry in my soul
Yoked to animal desires

The words can make me high
Music takes me higher

Ah! but ***, anger, conflict
Heraclitean the Fire

At times society itself
As with Donald Trump the Liar

I too have known the terror
Oblivion as crier

If I’m remembered at all
Please call me Todd the Tryer
David Hilburn Jul 2020
Time is an issue we adore...
Time is a hour, to witness the world
Time is an act of goodness over sakes we war
Time is a legend worth repeating, as if sense could

When set to serve, an angel a home
Does a creation in have, heed the silence we more?
Mercy in the scope of real enough alike, to atone
Half of nothing to see in the past, is still all for...

Another half of commitment
To wish with its roles of charity's fire and vehemence
What has the condition of my hand, to present a same meant
Courage under the tongue, or courage over such chances?

Begun in the lore we state, is our only love
To know and to trust, the coming hour to ourselves?
Looking well and fine, the taste of strength to come
Will a shred of human decency, have a look at what delves?

Time is a guarantee
To continue with semblance, the tryer at the door
Seeing the imagination we purpose, and dote, is seen
To continue in the way of relationship's that to some, are worth or

— The End —