"walts" poems
"Expressing your feelings
couldn't be called art."
So birthed
Shakespearean Walts —
whose puns crammed nature
into mens' hands
and shadowed doubts
that we are all human.
The need to rhyme
and snort out some lines
demoned great minds
who refused to color
outside the lines.
Metaphor ran over happiness,
watercoloring lines
in INK.
*"A petal is
a woman who fails
when she wilts."*
So girls learn to answer,
coyly in high school english,
that everything but petals
are ******* symbols.
No reflection needed,
when nature is a *****
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Die donker dans in daai kind se oe
kyk *** die duiwel om hom draai en
walts met die doodsdonker nag
op die ritme van sy swak hart.
Die kind se swak hart
natuurlik bosluis die duiwel hom
toe op die bloedjie se bloed
tot sy are net gal spoeg.
Tant San se hy speel met vuur...
en sit op die doringdraad
tussen hierdie span en die ander
wie hy altwee lelik speel.
Oom Jaap se hy snuif hom slim
die gom is maar om sy hart weer
aanmekaar te plak en die spirits
vir die graffiti op sy spirit en sy soul
maar mens praat nie so van God se kind nie
die laaitjie praat met engele
en gaan eerder hemel toe as jy...
want geen mens gan tweekeer hell toe nie.
Hy wag net om te dooi...
Sjame , die arme kind.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
Coming into credence of the surrounding,
As the perpetual cycle met like a race track.
Current presence dim lightly with another solstice beckon,
As winter takes the sunlight for yet another annual walts,
While moonlight hover more frequently to a sound of a violin.
The inner heart wrapped around a blanket,
Cozied by the sleep of hibernation like camp fire.
The beats come into a trance,
And radiance come to a halt by the darkness,
For it is the reign of fall that cover sun like a shrouded veil.
Such is the time of gloom come to a reflective meditation,
For all imagery end with a last note of a piano,
And seared thoughts say good bye with the vibration of it's strings!
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
Baddie brains blown out hick-up pick up picky pick up lines hirried stubbling drained from the gum. Yes tis gum from the stuomuch that you swallowed for month because I just loved the way you ***** *** I'm sick.
I puked.
I puked?
I started runnning the walts of Conan the quenched dominator beefing with minny mouse for spanking mickey. He sipps mickeys just so you know I'm holy dust, sike. I wish I washed my mouth month before I ate the groomed flappy fingered fizzathered lips of Haley Jade. I wish I had a ****** **** Nut after nut and after this nut another nut and a nut a then the knux cause she got the **** crumbling runs rinse me in Faygo cause these Jugglalos have hair I love to get the stow in jars from a far, because I farted. Beanie I ******* farting who started this ******** fricken flame flare Jack Keoroac couldn't spit enough spirts to-at-alley trickling pink pavement funds that freed Zepplin.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
Dear Life,
Funny is it not?
We loved eachother, just never at the same time.
Lately it's been lingering constantly on my mind, yet I still continue to walts around like I'm fine.
I Took you for granted,
so understanding I am as to why you can no longer stand it.
But "Life's a game right?" I guess I just-
I just grew tired of the ******** hands from you I was handed.
Tired of standing alone in sorrow, of drowning in feelings.
That eight year rain shower killed me, but could've given you a sibling on a drier planet.
Like mars, life you could've had a brother on mars.
But instead you chose me,
A guy that feels way to ******* much, way to ******* deep.
So Why me?
Why should I sleep?
So I can dream of a girl I know, who's exactly like me but doesn't like me?
Why, see? It's only been a week so why do I feel confident she's the one I need?
Why do I cry and feel hopeless seeing scripted love on a screen?
Why do I relate more, feel closer to fictional characters than the ones next to me?
Dear life,
I wrote you the key to my mind without thinking twice.
I don't ask for your sympathy, but a key for simplicity will suffice.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC
We arrive at the same conclusion,though the journey was never the same
Always drawn to the light, but our darkness kindles the flame
Hope powered by fear, love sweetened by tears,
And every song in four just wants to be a waltz
The rat in the sewer is just looking for a house
Even the snake in the garden was just looking for a mouse
In peace we´re are building walls, to protect from human faults
But every song in four just wants to be a waltz
Governments will fall, laws be over turned,
riots in the street, violence will burn
Greater is the sage, who just won´t to understand
But every song in four just walts to be a waltz
I wish there was something else between us, between you and
I I wish your face wasn´t clouded and obscured by the sky
Wisdom when we fail, the dark shall not prevail
But every song in four just walts to be a waltz
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 2:55 PM UTC
Maybe when I'm dead is when I'll be discovered
"Miss Walts of the technical age"
Someone will find my art and say "wow she really got it she really had it you know she was brilliant, a genius, truly great"
The best version of myself will then be shown
The romantized self analyzed by doctorates and lab coats
They'll all wonder what I really mean
And I'll be gone
Gone so they can't ask me
They'll mold me into a piece they really want
After death I'll return as a pawn
Crooning the voice of the people of our age
We all scream
"I'm not good enough
And because of this I cannot do a thing!
I can only make art from depressive relief.
Society is telling me everything to believe.
I can't think for myself for the life of me do not ask me a question because I never think!"
A self medicated self asbsorbed zombie
"No one has it worse than me."
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 11:38 AM UTC