"walker" poems
I'd like to think that she's thinking:
"How far have I fallen?"
As she sits on the corner of her bed,
Listening to the soft buzz of his battery-powered toothbrush.
I imagine her,
Running her fingers through her clumsy, coagulated hair.
Glancing at her chipped, crimson toe nails,
Then looking to her class ring,
Made entirely of imitation ingredients,
Wondering when is the proper time to trash it.
When she was still a friend of mine,
I never saw her wear make up,
I never saw her show off in tight jeans
or low-cut tees.
But as he spews the toothpaste into the sink,
Skinny jeans lay tussled on the floor,
Next to the side door
that leads to his sister's side room.
The make up she wears
is from the night before.
It's skewed and shows evidence of running,
Like a wasted watercolor.
I'd like to think he isn't that handsome,
And that he's obsessed with Paul Walker.
I'd like to think when he re-enters the room,
He's in grey sweatpants,
He's wearing a black tank top,
With a Confederate flag backdrop,
With two barely dressed babes looking ******
in the foreground.
His hair, unwashed and greasy.
He rubs his belly,
And bears an idiot grin
on his face.
Looking like he just learned how to smile
at this pace.
"Did it feel good?"
feel good.
After he asks, he scans her body,
Beginning at those crimson toes,
And Ending at that clumsy hair.
Every second he scans,
He still wears that drawn-on
Idiot grin.
I'd like to think at this point she thinks of me.
Of my warnings and prophesy.
Her eyes start at the chipped toe nails,
Course over her tanning bed-inspired legs.
And finally reach the only thing she has on,
A t-shirt that belongs to his sister.
A t-shirt, when given by him,
It was mentioned, "thanks, mister".
Though she didn't satisfy all his redneck intentions,
During last night's expedition.
He still paid her back with a morning
one-sided session.
"It felt good" she says.
In reference to the ten minute **********
When her body was strummed and plucked,
Underneath his sister's Terri Clark T-shirt.
As she sits in the filth and the ****** fallout,
On a bed that is six days *****
While he is grinning,
Being everything but wordy.
I'd like to think she's thinking:
"How far have I fallen?"
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 10:31 PM UTC
The pigeons are sad
The pigeons saw that
The future comes with bad
The pigeons were telling that
The prophets born here
The prophet know that
It is the land of kind
, welfare and tied
The religions at that land
The assembly of religions
The peace between nations
Were established there
Here was the prophet David
Who the mounts the trees ,
The stones and the birds,
Repeated his prays
He governed with justice
After him ,Solomon was gotten
He governed with justice
The welfare had increased
And the peace with there
The Romans occupied it
And the injustice appeared
The killing and the theft
Were actually increased
Here was born Jesus
Who invited to peace
At shortest and clear
That was not admired
By Romans or Jewish
Who were there
They planned to **** him
The land became unfair
The decreasing of welfare
The increasing of fear
Till the new nation appeared
The new religion increased
It called for justice
It led to peace
The Muslims achieved a victory
As they built a great glory
And they blockaded the land
The patriarch man said,"
We didn’t give the keys
Except to your leader
Who is justice’s famous"
They wore one of soldiers
The smartest cloth
They introduced him
As the prince of Insurers
as the caliph of Muslims
The greatest patriarchs said,"
That is not the man we did
Actually knew and have red
At our book that mentioned
Him actually as we saw awake."
The leader of soldiers ordered
To sent a letter to the caliph
At bright city wide distance
As he wanted to keep blood
Out of bleeding
He wanted not to ****
The innocent people
He didn’t want to bore
His name over death
His religion ordered them
To save the innocent people
To the caliph to came
The caliph and a servant moved
The leader of the greatest land
At that time, at that moment
From the kind and light city
He read the yassin of holy
Quran that equals twenty
Minutes
For riding the donkey
And his servants walks only
Then the caliph got off only
And the servant rode the donkey
And they read the yassin for away
To count and know time
And mention the God only
Then the caliph and servant also
Walked with their donkey
To rest it also
They keep reading yassin only
Till they reached near the holy
City that mentioned with holy
In Quran with great respect
The turn is on the servant
To get that donkey rode
And the caliph would walk
He said," my prince! I must
Get down and you must
Ride that donkey"
He said," then I will be called
Injustice caliph led the insurers
To be injustice at every talkers
And it is your turn
If the air came to me smelt
With good smell than yours
If the water I drink
Have more delicious than yours
If I created from mud
Made of silver and gold
I will rode that animal
And you must go walker
Ride it my good insurer"
The soldiers saw him
They did great clutter
They wanted to salute him
The patriarch said with amazed,"
See what is that noise?
He looked and said
That is him , that is him!"
The patriarch went and looked
He counted patch in his
The cloth of the greatest prince
Of the greatest Nation motioned
At the ancient, at the present
He said," you are who is mentined!
You are the caliph
"Omar" was the caliph
He gave them the safe deal
That mentioned by his name
The patriarch gave him the keys
Of Jerusalem to him
The time for afternoon pray came
The caliph prayed out the church
The patriarch said
Why you didn’t pray at that
Place at the inner of the church
Omar said if I prayed here
The Muslims after that
Say "Omar" prayed here
And they took it
To be a mosque indeed
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 4:38 AM UTC
Departure the welcoming light to walk slowly into the darkness
Wedged between night and day, for a split second
The splendor the Sunset Walker can see is captivating
Observing the color of the cloud's and sun's transformation
Seeing reflection transition flashed across the sky
The eyes take pictures of this wonder and describe it
So others can feel that they are walking along beside you.
Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
you check on me many times a day
with my antique ears
I hear your squeaking shoes
on these vinyl floors
someone laid for those who came before
like passengers on a stalled bus
with windows that allowed only one view
I know you and I wait for the same thing
for you to check on the passenger who replaces me
he will be no different
a few more hairs, perhaps a few less stares
you will gently place your hand on his wrist
write in his chart, and maybe
glance at the date of birth,
do the mindless math
and wonder without wonder
if my replacement will have a bigger number than I
but I am still here
gazing at your angled eyes
while you count the beats
which slow a little each day
waiting for you to say
how long will this one last?
don’t worry, squeaking vinyl floor walker
when my drum stops pounding
I will try to make sure it happens
while I am asleep
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 7:42 PM UTC
please dont touch my crown
the black rubies were encrusted by steve biko
madam cj walker made it a sign of royalty
blood was shed for this ***** hair
i am a servant to this crown, and i will show my loyalty.
please dont touch my crown
i can feel the curlism in your fingers
your greedy hands appropriate it for relevance
you have hated volume and colour for centuries
but now you see beauty where you once saw pestilence.
please dont touch my crown
let your eyes feast on the sight of true glory
forget about vanity, and hear our chains
taste our dry blood, smell our lynched bodies
but never touch our hair without remembering our pain.
- t.m
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 10:24 AM UTC
foundational fluctuation
as flatulence is introduced
that’s right
**** jokes
pppfffrrrttttt
destroying families
undermining relationships
damaging friendships
ending love
breaking the mold
extinguishing the fire
eliminating the excitement
drowning fun
and smelling bad –
pretentious vegetarian
wind walker
kale excretions
cabbage attack
cauliflower bandit
spreading propaganda
and funk
while talking trash
about cigarette smokers –
I could go on for days
making egg comments
referring to the arrival of Eddie’s
big brown shark –
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
Did you just call me ugly?
How blind could you be?
Don't you know that I got God inside of me?
Tell me dear....
So, full of pride and so focused on your youthful looks.
How much makeup?
How much pride?
How many people?
Will be at your side,
When you close your eyes for the last time.
Tried to be **** at times myself.
Those ideas blew up in my face.
Got a lot of regret debts
anchored down in the valleys of the wrinkles on my face.
Did you know I used to have abs?
Not anymore.
One day I heard my stomach having a private conversation,
with gravity.
Gravity said, 'Winning!'
Took my abs away.
Gave me arthritis and a fever in its place.
I **** so much.
I swear someone has a gun to my ***
It is so ****** up,
when the pistol starts to cry and laugh.
I need a walker most of the time.
I guess the only crime I committed was staying alive.
Yeah, I am old.
So, what! I made it this far.
Take your *** on and be thankful for who you are.
You don't know how good you got it.
You can still get around,
Without leaving fun size Hersey bars behind on the ground.
'Hey, old dude, what Hersey bars are you referring to you? The thing I see behind you are chocolate bars,
With corn toppings.
The old man starts to laugh.
The young lady says, 'Do you mean to tell me that you ******* while you were talking to me this whole time?
The young lady began to puke.
'Baby, I didn't **** on myself. My *** did all the work. I haven't been able to control my bladder for a few months now. Here is a tissue for your mouth though?'
'Did you just hand me your depends?' The young lady said.
'Yep! These Depends never judge me and makes me feel very special.'
The young lady walks away, as she continues to puke.
The old guy says, 'She is so slow. I thought that she would have given me my Depends diaper back.
'Uh oh! What am I going to doo-do in now? That girl stole my Depends!
(C) Copyrighted
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 10:06 PM UTC
I am a Province, a State, a Municipality, and a Region.
I am a Soldier, a Pilot, a Minister, and a Legion;
I am a black man, a white man, a brown man, a woman,
A French man, American, Canadian, and Roman.
I am a rap artist, a singer, a slam poet and guitarist;
I dabble in the dark arts accompanied by a Marxist.
I'm a barista, a gas man, a secretary, and Tsarina,
A King and a Queen and a janitorial cleaner.
I am a "lover," a "hater," a "here now" and "there later,"
I am Luke Skywalker, yet at the same time, Lord Vader.
I am a driver, a walker, a rider, a stalker,
A conservative liberal and a well-learned straight-talker.
I am a salesman and clerk,
A criminal and a serf,
The proud owner of a weapon that, while it kills, saves the Earth.
I am a drinker and smoker,
A consumer and broker,
A bomb-maker, con-artist, Priest, and interloper.
I am a Citizen.
Religious and secular,
Macrocosmic, molecular,
Suit wearing, uncaring, emphatic, irregular,
A "packie," a **** a Scrabble fan playing Yahtzee;
A Jihadist, sadistic, addicted to Herodotus,
History is repeated by the philosopher that thought of us.
The eroticist literature towards which we've all lusted;
It looks like the bullets machine-gun is busted.
Indifferent, ecstatic, illicett, erratic,
An infant, a senior, a young man with bad-lip,
A black man, a white man, a brown man, a woman,
A Jew and a Christian, a Muslim musician,
A monarch, elitist, pro-abortion defeatist,
An anarchist, Black Panther, and a rich plutocratic;
I am a citizen,
And as one,
I'm elastic.
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 1:35 PM UTC
I'm frequently told to
'Stop and smell the roses'-
I have hay fever.
If I were to stop, I would no longer be moving so
My mind has more time to fill itself up with the little thoughts,
The ones I'm walking the streets to forget.
Rose is one of my favourite scents but
Every time I try to take it in
My cheeks swell and my eyes water;
I'll just stick to being a walker.
I wasn't aware of this, but
The nose must play an important role
In the improvement of mental health because
I am also told to
'Wake up and smell the coffee'-
I don't want to wake up
And I can't get out of bed,
(Could you just bring me a coffee, instead?)
It might inspire me.
Within the cover of night I am sitting;
Lying;
Crying
-Doing anything other than sleeping-
In bed thinking about what if somebody told me to
'Wake up and smell the roses',
****
Myself?
Surely it's a death sentence
To do a combination of the two
That I have already explained
I cannot,
Will not
Do?
Today, however, I did attempt to smell those roses
And I bought myself a latte, too.
But all I could taste and smell was ash,
Which made me panic
Because it felt like I was burning alive and
I liked that.
Now I understand that cigarette smoke can sometimes be so potent, that it
Drowns the soul.
Tobacco is, in fact, a substance of which I feel I can relate to:
It's grown;
Briefly nurtured;
Removed;
Dried;
Packaged;
Labelled (with a warning);
Used by many and
Lastly,
Set alight by a temporary flame;
Used up in a puff of smoke.
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 5:13 PM UTC
Lone walker,
In the midst of the crowd his heart was always alone.
Sank into the belly of tribulations,
Unlike the missionary journey of Jonah he was vomited into
more woes.
Like how a beautiful mountain in a wilderness thirst for tourist
So his heart was hungry for love.
If loneliness is synonymous to poverty then he deserved this cross.
Lone walker,
He lonely walked on thorns, struggled with everything, sweated blood.
He lived a life of trapped miners in a cave miles below fresh air.
Lone walker,
Rain of respite barely shower on his path.
Sun bit his skin, dews often united with his tears,
For there was no even a free den for him to rest his head.
His days were worse than the trials of Job,
For he had not even a wife to encourage him to curse God and give up the ghost.
Like an eaglet without a falcon, he was accustomed to crying for his dying talents that was hidden too deep for any scout to discover.
To him the world was empty and void of helpers
Until a moment came when he decided to abort his worries, fears and his ugly past.
In a flash he recalled the parable of the talents,
In a speed of lightning he stood and put his hidden gift into use.
I key my mind into the eyes of the reader of his biography,
As I stood in the midst of his children offspring in his burial ceremony fit for kings,
With the assurance that he is not walking alone to heaven or hell indeed
And surely his once lonely heart would be filled with merriment and peace.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
**** men, guys, dudes, boys... in fact anything that walks on two legs and has a ***** between those two legs, or any other kind of elongated genitalia for that matter.
**** the simple ones who guzzle beer and scream at other men in a small box
**** the sensitive ones who weep at the intensity of their emotions to you
**** that cool ones who speak in a language of esoteric band and brand names
**** the intellectual ones who have their opinions shoved so far up their **** it bleeds out their mouth
**** the business types who's cool indifference is callous
**** the health-conscious gym-working-out ones who's 9pm bed time leaves you star gazing alone
**** the hippy ones who's lofty, hot air talk leaves you with a nasty feeling in your nose like you need to sneeze but it is stuck inside
**** the ones who are "different" but an trip on the bus is more entertaining than their recycled conversation
Last of all **** the decent, hard working, ones who have girlfriends that are non-flaky, pulled-together, skinny-organic-soy-latte-drinkers, only-wear-Karen-Walker, I-have-no-daddy-issues, law-majors
**** it all really
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
i love you,
fresh from
the shower.
glistening and wet,
smelling of aftershave.
"coolwater" by davidoff. often aslo sandlewood,
goat soap, from the local
farmers markets.
i love you,
dressed up smart.
in a brook's brother's way
dress pants and shirt,
blue linen vest.
johnny walker silk bow tie,
untied is best. then your twist,
(not as original as you think)
converse skaties, no socks
and bone bleached cuffs,
turned up.
i love you,
in your work gear.
just come home,
you smell of sweat.
clean and healthy,
always wood shavings
caught up, in your
unruly shaggy hair.
cargo shorts and
t-shirts,
that have seen,
many days of worksite wear.
size elevens in your hands,
those big feet and freaky toes
bare, ******* in the air.
i love you,
in board shorts and rashie.
rushing into the surf,
hand in hand.
with the energetic bundle
of love,
to which we gave birth.
it is not as though,
clothes made this man,
but boyohboy, you, frame them well.
it s the heart, the chuckle
the hands, the philosphy,
the clever, erudite, caveman,
the downright,
man-dumb bloke.
that endears, your heart to
mine.
it is, that you really listen
and take the time,
to make me feel and be,
phenomenal, wise, sensual
and beautiful beside.
i love you,
best, in my bed.
moving slow and sure,
undressed, silk and velvet.
as we express,
the reality of our love
and whisper words,
well known,
and cry to heaven above.
i love you,
then, here, now and eons
on.
even after the worlds
memory of us,
is nothing,
dust upon the breeze
our love,
will carry, forth
stardust on heaven's winds
and cries of our love and ecstasy
will birth worlds anew
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
The air is a mill of hooks --
Questions without answer,
Glittering and drunk as flies
Whose kiss stings unbearably
In the fetid wombs of black air under pines in summer.
I remember
The dead smell of sun on wood cabins,
The stiffness of sails, the long salt winding sheets.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Once one has been seized up
Without a part left over,
Not a toe, not a finger, and used,
Used utterly, in the sun's conflagration, the stains
That lengthen from ancient cathedrals
What is the remedy?
The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside still water? Memory?
Or picking up the bright pieces
Of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower-nibblers, the ones
Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable --
The humpback in his small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
Does the sea
Remember the walker upon it?
Meaning leaks from the molecules.
The chimneys of the city breathe, the window sweats,
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.
The heart has not stopped.
5.2k
When the forests have been destroyed their darkness remains
The ash the great walker follows the possessors
Forever
Nothing they will come to is real
Nor for long
Over the watercourses
Like ducks in the time of the ducks
The ghosts of the villages trail in the sky
Making a new twilight
Rain falls into the open eyes of the dead
Again again with its pointless sound
When the moon finds them they are the color of everything
The nights disappear like bruises but nothing is healed
The dead go away like bruises
The blood vanishes into the poisoned farmlands
Pain the horizon
Remains
Overhead the seasons rock
They are paper bells
Calling to nothing living
The possessors move everywhere under Death their star
Like columns of smoke they advance into the shadows
Like thin flames with no light
They with no past
And fire their only future
4.8k
Lost and lonely
Scared and confused
We’ve both been down
We’ve both been abused
We are together
Two birds of a feather
Don’t you see it too?
You belong to me, and I belong to you
I need you baby
Don’t you need me too?
Come on darling, don’t make me blue
I know you want me
So don’t pretend
That restraining order
Was meant to bend
Why would you ever call me a stalker
I’ll hunt you down in my walker
You are mine...
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 4:09 AM UTC
wondrous words,
shades of colorations,
this pain,
artfully slow, steady stalking,
finale staking into
my hardened heart
with tireless twinges
of loss and constant regret,
painstakingly plinking away,
leaving pockmarks of bullets shot
at the concrete ring-fencing,
failing to protect me from just another,
**oh god not again,
have no mo' time**
for jes one mo' time
love's aftermath regret,
bitter acid wash,
that cleanses nothing,
for you are already nothing
when love loss wrenches/rents your
soul's garments with knotholes of
unfashionable distressed
distress
**better not to have loved,
better, better, better,**
than this battering silent hurricane
invisible thunderstorm internally,
than respects no seasonality,
for which the meteorologists
can predict neither its path or its
final cessation
painstakingly,
did I build my walled shelter,
only to fail-fall to the siege machines
of beauty and desire,
and
once conquered,
with fire and heat,
*they burnt me
from the outward edges inward,
and I am not a
Phoenix*
see the stooped slow white walker
more than dead, yet alive enough
existing to be witness to
his own devouring,
his hands wrapped round
the stake in his chest stuck,
painstakingly
protecting it,
lest its removal
be one more undoing of the
painstaking man
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
I enjoy watching my baby boy’s drama
In his room, on his bed among his toys
What a superb imagination
Translated in a form of play...
A battle between the amazing legacy of heroes
Put George Lucas in the house of shame
With his famous Luke Sky walker,
In Star Wars saga
Have Sam Raimi’s done his research well?
In creating Spiderman 3?
With this “genius in the making” young child
Left alone to build his creativity
I am convinced with obvious prediction...
Hollywood superheoes would be doomed..
Here is a 2 year old boy
In Spideman suit, Acting Spiderman,
hitting the Angry bird jet
The jet punches Spiderman back.
Then, Mama is forced to sleep with Spiderman
Forced Mama again, this time to love the Man of Steel
After the gruel some battle,
Jet & Spiderman decided to sleep together
in the pink hammock with Tigger.
The proud child is happy ,
His mission is accomplished!
A bottle of luke warm milk...
Well done! He earns his trophy
Tonight he helps to save the world.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 5:32 AM UTC
Welcome, Samhain, the Festival Of The Dead
The year draws to a close and we look to the New Year ahead
With the veil at its thinnest, spirits freely roam
Its time once more to welcome your Ancestors home
Listen to their messages and take note of their advice
For they know things we cannot, except at a price
Raise a glass in their honour, then bid them farewell
Though they never really leave us, and this we know well
Tomorrow brings a new day, though the Dark Lord slumbers on
The New Year has begun, let your voice raise in song
Set out your hopes and desires, for it’s a time to look ahead
Ask the Blessings of the Ancients as on your path you tread
May the coming year be fruitful, may you prosper and grow
For you’re a walker of the Old Ways and this is what we know
We are children of the Ancients and so we are doubly blessed
For we are the chosen ones, each on our own Sacred Quest.
Blessed Be.
Samhain 2012
Nerwydd Dragonborne
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 7:56 AM UTC
I'm a sock monkey
I am a sock monkey
A sock monkey clown
I am a sock monkey
I am a sock monkey
I'm taking over your town
I got a lot of ideas
A lot of sock monkey ideas
I sock monkey
I am a sock monkey
I am a sock monkey
Gonna go to college
I am a sock monkey
I am a sock monkey
Gonna go to college
Gonna go to college
Gonna get an education
Get an education
Gonna take over your sock monkey town
I got a lot of ideas
I am a sock monkey
I'm gonna rule
I got a lot of ideas
I am a sock monkey
I'm gonna rule
I'm gonna rule
I'm gonna drive drunk sock monkey
I'm gonna drive drunk sock monkey
I'm gonna **** I'm gonna ****
I'm gonna blame it on the walker baby
I'm gonna blame it on the runner
He shouldn't have been in front of me
That's what I'll tell the judge
Let's rent a limo sock monkey
Let's celebrate now, sock monkey
Maybe make a date
I am a sock monkey
Give me all of your five dollars
I am a sock monkey
I am a sock monkey
I live in L. A.
I am a sock monkey
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
People who live by the sea
understand eternity.
They copy the curves of the waves,
their hearts beat with the tides,
& the saltiness of their blood
corresponds with the sea.
They know that the house of flesh
is only a sandcastle
built on the shore,
that skin breaks
under the waves
like sand under the soles
of the first walker on the beach
when the tide recedes.
Each of us walks there once,
watching the bubbles
rise up through the sand
like ascending souls,
tracing the line of the foam,
drawing our index fingers
along the horizon
pointing home.
4k
*As ***** as a three balled tomcat
Very *****
Very full of ****** desire*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You can fake that loud sound during ***
However, no need to fake that sound
With your first meal of the day
Oh so yummy! Oh, so hungry for that touch
So here I am as ***** as a three balled tomcat
What if everything were revealed about my whereabouts
Especially last night, was I somnambulism?
It’s time to get myself together. I was all over the place
I have to channel my energy today into something useful;
I have to stay soulful, I have to stay focused
I might be a night walker
However, If a man awakes the sleeping tigress within
He better be ready to calm its wicked, wicked ways
A woman isn’t complete without the
Amen, hallelujah, thank be to glory moments
As she reaches the maximum of her
Amazing, mind and body-blowing experience
I have to challenge them… did I lose my self-respect?
My midnight blue satin dress
Someone said that it’s a wicked, wicked tease
I know that it controls my every mood
Staying ahead of the curves, surveying the scenery
Swaying down the Avenue living dangerously
Down where the palm trees sway against the breeze
Here I am as ***** as a three balled tomcat.
but I can surely make the bad boys good for the weekend
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
Degradation, mutilation
procrastination, contemplation.
Do you ever wonder why
the world eats at your insides?
Do you ever wonder how
come sometimes you wanna die?
It's not what you did when you were young.
It's not what you'll do when you grow old.
It's the choices you make in the here and now.
And I don't want to stop myself for anyone or anything.
Not a ******* thing can hold me back.
Not one ******* person can stop me.
Even you.
Even you.
Even you.
Even
you.
Degradation, mutilation
procrastination, contemplation
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
We pass laws about things we don't like.
Or don't want in our community.
But when you look through the microscope you amazed by those you see within the lenses.
Oh, we protest the strip clubs and that environment.
But pay attention to the visitors or clientele.
Always seems to be someone we know so well.
The businessman.
The police officer.
The minister.
Hosts of others
You know, those important fellas
Especially , a few elected ones.
The same ones supporting the bans on things.
People, even protest Walmart cause of the small family's store facing competition.
Oh, forget about the jobs for those unemployed.
Forget about customers to get a slow economy back on the path of recovery.
We, don't want the street walker disturbing visitors going to the store too.
After all, they have secrets to create several havocs to a happy home.
Again, when you look through the microscope or witness the news.
You shocked by their clients too!
Same, with the dealers of drugs.
Who?
When arrested we amazed that his clients might be teachers/ministers/politicians/judges/famers and the hard earn worker.
Looking through the microscope reveals the sinners controlling us.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I'm well aware that nothing makes sense, including this poem :>
content is not something we give consent
you hold your pen yet the ink spills as it pleads
you are a walker of blood yet it sheds out when cut & bent
you have a brain yet the tongue blurts out the feels
content is not something we color
just an acceptance of the past
just a canvas you get to paint with limit bother
good for a day then a memory till it lasts
the kiss of a palm forehead & cheek
drafts in my head just to render a sleep
some greed never fed or a satisfaction to meet
yellow till it goes mustard & a shade deep
the saving of a night that would save the day
it's like it's gold but you're swallowing the sand?
the desperation for a treasure at some bay
how would I even find content when out of the hand?
--------ravenfeeels
Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 4:25 PM UTC