"tweedy" poems
Mirror, Mirror, Where is Delphi
i preferred it when you had your hair in a bun,
walking down Tweedy with ripped jeans and taylor gang chucks,
with your hair blazed bloodier and brighter than desolate Mars,
when you were just another girl i grew in war with,
i never dreamed, though i saw that one day you would leave,
and desert the dirt covered laces and kiss me goodbye,
tethered up in knots as you threw us in the sky,
i look down at you tangled on the line,
a saddened women posing in her in undergarments before the digital eye,
you are the baddest *****
i can see it on my screen as i scroll past in thirst,
you are the baddest *****
i acknowledge this to be true,
infantry ****** open fire, shooting explosive emojis that detonate your feed,
i know you wear bullet proof armored sweaters
but i also see the bruises on that solitary face,
leeches feeding lust into your neck,
you step into battle with black eyes on your chest,
swinging your “i don’t give a **** sword, beheading lascivious foes,
i preferred when we sat on the terrace during the decline of the sun,
softly voicing how we’d get out of this cage,
walking north of south gate with worn out tokens,
i left you unguarded
pardon me, lustful,crimson Helen of Troy
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
spinning white lights on the cusp of the new millennium, daring kids spilled their guts.
breathing deeply, we’d all fall and swell with oxygen, drunk with life, in time.
words have flown to me, as spirits in a sweet wind, they’ve come.
love in all shapes form around me, within me, lately.
love as a glorious, gleaming smile, always and forever.
love as a final conquest.
love as a first, real, true love.
love as a new perspective on life, as a realization.
love as a tool to grow with.
love as a recollection of past loves.
love as fun.
love as friends, beautiful and glorious, shining always under night skies and blossoming in summer suns.
i live love, thoroughly, completely, endlessly.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 5:27 PM UTC
My side of the singled bed
is large and needy,
old and tweedy.
A mess of a mass
cast of colour.
Her side of the single bed
is neat and slim,
twisted and trim.
A cress by the crass
man of monsters.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 7:49 AM UTC
Shall I count the days now,
It's 4 thousand 17.
Time is not doing its job,
It's not reduced the pain in me.
Shall I count my tears now,
it's far over 4 thousand 17.
Every day, your memory,
comes back to sit with me.
96 thousand,
four hundred twenty six.
That's the number of hours now,
that you have missed.
Oh, so much has happened,
in the hours you've been gone.
My little girls are growing fast,
they'll be all grow before too long.
Mike and his girlfriend Kendra,
have the cutest ever son.
So I'm auntie Ray-Ray now,
being an aunt is so much fun.
You would have loved baby Jeremy,
he really is quite smart.
And the giggle that kid has,
would have easily stole your heart.
But again, I count the days you're gone,
4 thousand 17.
And I think of all I would have said and done,
if your death had been foreseen.
I could count the minutes,
I could even count the seconds, too.
But all this pointless counting,
doesn't get me closer to you.
As I sit all by myself and talk to an empty room,
I wonder if you're listening and talking to me too.
I wish that I could hear you,
and ask for some advice.
I know you'd know just how I feel,
and how to make things right.
Gut-wrenching soul destroying,
even after eleven ******* years.
I've given up on wondering,
if I'll ever be free from tears.
I miss you uncle I hope you know it,
And I'll forget you NEVER.
Once again, your Tweedy Bird,
Will love you always,
and
forever.
Jan 17, 2023
Jan 17, 2023 at 8:31 PM UTC