"widdled" poems
I am lost,
Only to be complete in my brokenness...
An imagination left to its fragments -
Almost methodically widdled down to dust,
My body left mindless,
My soul in shambles -
I am empty.
An uninhabited cup waiting to be filled,
A blank canvas needing paint -
Who am I to wander this world?
Who am I to love someone?
Who am I to exist?
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
feel lost.
I feel alone.
The feeling of complete brokenness.
I am empty,
Widdled down to dust.
My body is uninhabited.
My spirit is in millions of pieces.
I feel distant.
I wasn't always this way.
I once was filled with joy and laughter.
I once had hopes and dreams.
I once had a purpose.
It once was so easy.
Now its to difficult to bare.
I am now lifeless pieces lying on the floor.
Everyday is a tragedy.
I fall, I shatter.
Sorrow drips from my face like a water fall.
I am an empty shell.
Pain, regret, and despair is eating away at me from the inside out.
Then you find me.
You mend me together with gold.
I am now worth something.
My spirit is no longer in shambles.
I once again have a purpose.
I laugh and feel joy.
I contain hopes and dreams.
When I fall I don't shatter.
The brokenness I felt before is gone.
I am whole.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
This golden fiddle sure does draw a lot of attention round here
I haven't had an empty beer glass since the day the Devil slunk outta Macon with his tail between his legs
Johnny the Devil Slayer they call me
You should hear them chant
It echos off the rafters of these hollow afternoon bars
They know my name because they know my fiddle
They don't know my face and they ain't never gonna remember it
I am the man who took their beloved golden fiddle from the hands of the Devil himself
They ask me to play the song that out played the Devil
Like God would come down from heaven and course that song back through my veins to impress four drunks on a Tuesday in Macon
They ask what the best that has ever been is doing at a bar on Tuesday morning
Like it wasn't my soul if it hadn't been this fiddle
Like it wouldn't've been their souls if it hadn't been this fiddle
They ask for Fire on the Mountain Run Boys Run like it wasn't a warning
Like I don't still have scars on my chest from the spark that jumped off the strings when he pulled his first note
I leave my winnings at home sometimes
Pay for my own beer
Listen to people tell stories about my fiddle
Say, "I'd love to see that fiddle"
Say, "If I could only touch it once"
Say, "I just want to hear it play"
Say, "I saw it once it was amazing"
I sit silently thinking to myself
How easy it is to worship the Devil's golden things
Often have I had the prideful impulse to stand and shout,
"I am Johnny you sons-of-bitches
I am the best that has ever been
Memorize my face
Tell them my name
My name is Johnny
I am the man with the golden fingers who played my warped, cracked, widdled-down wooden fiddle 'til my bow was threads
My strings snapped and my fingers bled down the neck
Dyed my fiddle crimson that day
My fiddle, my fiddle brought down the Devil
This golden idol will remind you what his face looked like"
But that line of thought does not befit God's chosen instrument
They call me Johnny the Golden Fiddle
They call me Johnny the Devil Slayer
But that Devil ain't dead
He's in this here golden violin
And he smiles every time they stare
It's my crimson fiddle that shines the brightest when the days are dark
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
I thought I saw you
when I was out walking through
the street yesterday
But its been so long
I cant hardly remember
the look of your face.
It was a blessing,
but also quite frightening,
knowing you're not here.
Sometimes I wake up
in the middle of the night
drenched in my own tears
Then I remember
my brain is just tricking me
and it isn't real.
I wish it was,
because I miss the days of old
when they had appeal.
Walking on the clouds
with your toes in the sand
you wave down at us.
I dont see you, though
Eyes neglect to see your hand
and all you have touched.
Several years have passed
since I last saw what it means
to live with reason
And that reason was
to fight until the last dawn
of the spring season.
You widdled a square
you were unfairly given
into a circle.
Well, in other words,
you shaped the lives of many
who were out of shape.
So on this great day
Ill raise a tall golden glass
to the cloudy skies
Cause you never know
if you'll see the sun again
before your demise.
I thought I saw you
when I was out walking through
the streets yesterday.
But it wasn't you,
because seven years ago
is far from today.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
The unvoiced and unacknowledged fear of being broken
On the verge, if we focus we can see it when we’re hopeless
Every single soul knows this
But when we teach our life lessons it always goes unspoken
We’ll get there when we get there let’s just have peace for the moment
Fracture a piece of the moment
Our contentment is fleeting
Shake the grips of your vices, where they’re biting you're bleeding
A stable mind depleting, your convictions are receding
Floating in a gentle haze
Where all you hear is true
You’ve widdled yourself to nothing, so what could you rebuke?
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
You are the epitome of a Broken, masterpiece
A Happy little accident, like a Robert Ross Tree
To procrastinate would just dehydrate their fate
Riddled and widdled to core instincts so innate
Like when reincarnated DNA lays a dinosaur egg
Like someone offering you a hand when you need a leg
Like a slap in the face when you wanted a hug
Like a crap in the place, but right on your rug
My point is you're rare, so much so ...so much I just don't know or care, because such blind luck should appropriately just not give a **** or maybe give two...... and so the challenge lay at an absolute stalemate. Next time we shall both properly hydrate and then get in too mate and then hit the snooze and sleep in late...
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 12:37 AM UTC
She had been deep in slumber,
this little beast of mine.
Buried deep within where she would cause no trouble.
Curled within my hips just at the base of my spine.
I feel her unwind, my stomach begins to bubble.
I have been covering her over for so long now.
Afraid of who might see her.
But now I no longer know how.
Because all of my lines have begun to blur.
I know you may see an easy mark.
Something fun and light.
But all it would take is one little spark.
To catch her on fire and make your world bright.
She has been silent for so long.
Now her claws drag behind my silent lips.
She crouches haunches arched... she is so strong.
Right and wrong have become an eclipse.
It seems wrong to continue to deny her.
She is pleasure, she is pain, she is starving.
And it's your fault she now begins to stir.
Widdled away my resistance she is carving.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 8:34 PM UTC
Life through the childs eye
Eye sees her truth
Heart contains the weak
Holding it up
Showering it with love
We fear to be alone
Feel the arms of embrace
Cloak the tears with sunlight
Dancing in the warmth
From widdled heart
to brightened soul
Life through the childs eye
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC