"worser" poems
We've had a turbulent journey together
And as he pushed the bike, slowly did his hand release me
Riding the crashing waves I admit my struggle
And my childish naivety gave passage to worser threats
Yet still he stands there, waving me on my way
Even to this day, despite questionable confidences, I still turn
And still he stands there
A rebel I didn't mean to be, but I am cursed with escalating emotions
Or maybe he would say a blessing, to empathize and find strength
As memories haunt me at night, teaming with those of ill will
The sensitivity he passed on to me prevails, Innocently I am slowed
But my wheels continue turning, and my heart stays true
Though my eyes and ears remain obstructed, my heart makes a turn
And yes, he still stands there
His presence unpurposefully commands attention
And his knowledge, he gives without catch
I understand the wars he must encounter, and yet he stays calm
Giving peace to the tide, he offers nothing, but gives everything
I unconditionally love him
I honestly hold respect for him,
He indirectly teaches me
And fuels me with his love
In this moment, I turn back, not for fear of falling,
But to wave back to the man who let me go
He is no longer there, standing firm in his spot
No
My friend, my father, he rides by my side.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
I act like I do
because I act like you
i feel unloved
but you blame it all on me
instead of hugging me
telling me its okay
I was hurt many times
and scarred as well
but when i tried to tell you
you scarred me even more
and said that it was all my fault
for doing what i do
but the way i feel
it's all bcause of you
i feel unloved at home so i'll get it anywhere
thats offering it
they can't make me feel
any worser than i already do
so forget life
ive had my fun
i aint worth crap anyway
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
Daydreaming
of better things
of lovely things
of saddening things
Daydreaming
of Him who I wondered
ever really loved me
or did it mean no more
Daydreaming
of the life that was not mine
the life I left behind
the life I could not find
Daydreaming
of something I do not deserve
yet yearn for
with no reserve
Daydreaming
of things so harsh and deep
the ocean swallows me whole
and into quicksand I seep
Daydreaming
of the life I thought I desired
of the life I was inspired
but never became reality
Daydreaming
of better things
that became worser things
That became dangerous things
Daydreaming
Of things I don't understand
Yet yearn for
What nonsense, I am.
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
are you generally happy?
a semi-innocuous query
now actualized as a two sided bladed poker,
hot stabbing me smack dab in
the chests hollow crown bullseye,
continuously, as in all life long, and eternal longing for a
“yes”
it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that
refreshes with every breath;
a life long struggle for an accurate definition,
be a general of genuine happy,
that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction
as a human, one operates on parallel continuums;
slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years,
their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles
formed by
twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves,
marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost,
complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words
“The End”
a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong
with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours,
reality is
shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by
spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for
a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable
and a piece of a peace that comes and goes
like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read
the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand
you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing -
the opioids of the mind offers are rejected
the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall -
the place where the poems come from,
and go to die,
a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized
but never been and never left,
the crazy contradictions come in two flavors;
vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have
etched pathways cheek-chiseled
the city is a struggling strife for most,
the next red line on the side
of the measuring cup and
everyone has a cell, a credit card,
and a measuring cup
<•>
here I stop can’t finish
someone missing alerts me
to their real worlds troubles
making my complaints super superficial but
the silent running of the stilleto
cuts shallow
repeated hourly
the cut color,
pitch black
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
Once I seen a human ruin
In a elevator-well.
And his members was bestrewin'
All the place where he had fell.
And I says, apostrophisin'
That uncommon woful wreck:
"Your position's so surprisin'
That I tremble for your neck!"
Then that ruin, smilin' sadly
And impressive, up and spoke:
"Well, I wouldn't tremble badly,
For it's been a fortnight broke."
Then, for further comprehension
Of his attitude, he begs
I will focus my attention
On his various arms and legs--
How they all are contumacious;
Where they each, respective, lie;
How one trotter proves ungracious,
T' other one an alibi.
These particulars is mentioned
For to show his dismal state,
Which I wasn't first intentioned
To specifical relate.
None is worser to be dreaded
That I ever have heard tell
Than the gent's who there was spreaded
In that elevator-well.
Now this tale is allegoric--
It is figurative all,
For the well is metaphoric
And the feller didn't fall.
I opine it isn't moral
For a writer-man to cheat,
And despise to wear a laurel
As was gotten by deceit.
For 'tis Politics intended
By the elevator, mind,
It will boost a person splendid
If his talent is the kind.
Col. Bryan had the talent
(For the busted man is him)
And it shot him up right gallant
Till his head began to swim.
Then the rope it broke above him
And he painful came to earth
Where there's nobody to love him
For his detrimented worth.
Though he's living' none would know him,
Or at leastwise not as such.
Moral of this woful poem:
Frequent oil your safety-clutch.Porfer Poog.
2.6k
Where do thugs go?
Who do they run to?
Where do they call home?
Not a house that they go to, but a place where they feel belonged
How do they cope with the scarcity of love?
Thugs, not the kind that most women think they are attracted to; therefore, not the imposers
Not the kind who landed at the bottom of the hill, sliding from the top only to scrape off their rot
Not the ones who were born with all the right people in their corners, but boxed them off while trying to fight to be someone that they are not
Thugs, the ones who momma loves? Because he appreciates her worthiness, her works
She's the only real love he ever had since birth
Thugs; who can't really go places because trouble doubles
It multiplies whenever he is with his guys
Because they all know how it feel not to live under a roof
Neither one of them have anything to lose
His dudes are equal to himself cubed
They rely on one another like proofs
And they are radical from the roots
Living in a negative atmosphere trying to multiply it by itself
So that they can make it to where the grass is greener and the sun does shine
The other side of the number line
Where the gunfire and homicides are divided
And the dope is reduced
All their lives they have been thinking that they are enduring the truth
That they "cannot amount to nothing and cannot be put to use"
They are neck deep in the streets
And the authorities is at their throats like a crew
But nothing around them is cotton
So when their fingers symbolizes a "V" they are only representing the place where they have to be
And they are not weak, but sometimes they wishes that they can take off a week
Black cats can't chase yarn
Mexicans don't have a specific day for casual dressing
Asians don't get any waivers
Cubans can't take less hours for a semester of schooling
Haitians don't get vacations
The **** life is given
Difficult to make it
As it is to escape it
It's hard to deal
When all they know is reeling in deals
To people who are saltier than Dill's
While at the same time trying to act real... Kosher
Without a companion to share meals... How do they find closure?
Too busy being tyrannical
Never learned how to be grammatical
So **** just got "worser"
Interviewee for a job
Or being suave to a child's mom
Besides their eyes,
Their oration is just exposure
Not knowing their duration to exist on this surface
Thugs need love
It's hard to tell through his mean-mug
But he's hurting
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
When I was young I used to dream nd wish to get older then that happened but I've realized the stress of being old is much more than the teenage drama I used to get through, the stress of having that solid life is much worser than the stress of high school, the stress of wishing is much lesser than the stress of pushing harder but still find your self in the same page, the stress of which u have to report off everyday is much better than the stress you have to handle everyday, the stress of seing your family falling apart is much better than the stress of trying to bind your family together but it keeps falling apart, the stress of things which are far from you is much better than the stress your part of in anyway
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turned fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But being both from me both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another’s hell.
Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
1.8k
"You'll be fine,
It'll be okay,
It will get better,
birthname"
They say
If only they knew that sometimes a name is a shackle, holding us to what we've never been and keeping us there until we can admit to ourselves that we've never been fine, nothing's okay and it first gets worse
"Why are you so mad,
Nothing seems to be wrong,
Why aren't you happy,
girl"
They say
If only they knew that sometimes feelings are subtle masks, painted onto our faces with the blood we drew yesterday to hide what we need to say to escape the viscous cycle of hate and tears and figurative death, and emotions are betrayals of what we need to be
"Everything would be fine,
They'd all be cool with it,
Why can't you just come out"
They say
(skipping
my name as the smallest act of a
hand in the darkness)
If only they knew that coming out is something that never goes fine, a delicate balance of worse and worst that makes our hearts beat so fast that cool is no longer a phrase but a temperature we need to reach in order to play our everlasting game of pretend
and
a name is a shackle, holding us to what we've never been and keeping us there until we can admit to ourselves that we've never been fine, nothing's okay and it first gets worse and even when it's not said we can hear it in the air, lingering on their lips like the slurs that we always expect to hear but haven't yet because to slur they need a target, an out, and coming out is something that never goes fine, a delicate balance of worse and worst that makes our hearts beat so fast that cool is no longer a phrase but a temperature we need to reach while the world spins faster and hotter and turning on the fan at night just keeps us up, dreading the dawn where we must once again play our game of pretend like everyone's born how they'll be for the rest of their lives and no one is different from the norm while still being okay
and
we go to Society everyday with a smile on our faces to say
"You'll be fine,
It'll be okay,
It will get better,
birthname;
Why are you so mad,
Nothing seems to be wrong,
Why aren't you happy,
birthsex"
because emotions are like coming out delicate scales of worst and worser and when we can't feel them we get enough cool relief to realize That This
Dysphoria
Is
Crushing
And
We
Can't
Get
Okay
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
Im not Going to go on
If all we do is argue on & on
I Can't Keep Up.
Fighting With Both my relationship & sobriety & trying to remain positive.
We Talk nonsense
We Never sit down and work it.
We just let it pass bye.
Im Not liking this anymore
Being more mad at eachother than smiling & laughing.
We say were going to work it out
It all seems to get worser to me.
I Want to be with him
But the experience is hurting.
So many wrongs
We don't seem to even get along.
Friends & enemies
At the same time.
You can't see yourself without me & i can't see myself being without you.
But its probably the best thing..
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
Ach, a delicah constitution, have I
me auld bones are getting wearier
if somebody sneezes I have a cowld
its getting worser the more I get older
I can’t get a dacent man
but I’m looking as hard as I can
I’ve got a little piece of land
so for a dowry he’d be grand
See, since I buried my first two
it’s not easy to get a beau
and these day’s I’m not such a pretty view
I can be a bit contrary
and my moods oft vary
but unlike my sister Mary
I haven’t got a tash long and hairy
I don’t need any of that *** stuff
I can tell ya that for nuttin
Its help around the farm I’m huntin
I can make a dacent cup-o-tay
and I’m handy at baling the hay
so if your up for a bit of honest toil
and your humour don’t make me blood boil
Come marry Teresa Rafter
when I’m gone you’ll live happily ever after
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:44 AM UTC
Everybody says "It's your life, take control of it."
Yes, quite indeed it's my life
And naturally, the controls comes with limitations
I keep falling back into bad habits
And each time I fall in I only get worser
"But Chalsey, you shouldn't let life limit you."
Limit me?
Well, I don't know how much of me there is.
Maybe this is all anyone gets
Maybe there isn't much more to me
Maybe I am at my limit
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
Titans clashing
In writing classes
Sessions
To profess progression
Or
Progress to professions
Blessings
Brought through the lessons
Learned
In College
A student as truant
As undeserved triumph
In the form
Of a form
That says what he’s worth
Diplomas
Handed out
To show
You’re on the road
To success
The rest are asked
The ultimate question
Of “Why not?”
Embarking on the quest
When the ultimatum
Is failure
Fail lures in
Those with no ambition
Men *******
About getting papers
To show worth
Working with no
Apparent purpose
Versus
Being apparently worthless
Pairing the two
Against the view
Of a *****
Who stares at the moon
And gives a ****
About the bull
The one
Whose wit
Could split
The tightest knit
Brain
And undue the sutures
Of skulls
To undue
Their mundane
View of success
The *****
Who calls himself
A *****
With more pride
Than Aryans
Carrying his opinion
Higher
Than the mass vision
Just to show
How low
They truly are
Arrogantly ignorant
Ignore rants
Of others
And smother them
With the truth
Of knowing nothing
And understands
They’ll never understand
Overstepping the boundaries
Without
Diplomatic immunity
Yet immune
To the qualities
Of the Hippocratic views
And sees
To seize the future
You must
Tackle the present problems
You must blitz
To get you’re quarter back
If you want
To make a change
And sport all the qualities
That seem to them
Strange
Deranged
In the range
Of misunderstandings
The illusion of progress
For humans
Are usually
Said in words
And never
Set in stone
So I will throw
Sticks and stone
The stupidity that’s grown
Words hurt
But actions hurt worser
For example:
Worser
Isn’t a word
Until I worsen the
Worst situation
I’m waiting
For my chance
To blow up
So I can dumb down
Your intelligence
And smarting up
Your ignorance
If you can’t understand
You’re either too smart
Or too **** ignorant
If you’re offended
Then you’re opinion is unneeded
Because the truth
Will tear your *** to pieces
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
in the penguins luck the furnace begins
at reprograming the news. Picture frames on 2 x 4s , three
photographs and glass bottles in the most decadent of matrimonies.
Three-hundred million dollars.
And the race riots show 'em who'll take the dampit from the mound of
Soot stained elements, canvas, trash bags, electric guitar riffs, giraffes, bingo, the drip-drop on the drop cloth. Easing into the new processor.
She who settles the wages of crickets with ether and single-barrel vanilla buckshot and maple. Incisors and cynical stereotypecastes and the shadows of the other mugged and loose canonical charades the worser and worsening play their ad keywords at in the sketchmakers many movements her dactyls fine and her fingertips many. Sweet lines of breathing and setting.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
early morn (5:00am) scanning, scrolling,
unrehearsed searching and the question
appears in a “loves that got away” column,
*(why do all these descriptors start eith S,
I think I know!)*
and off on another self-effacing, investigative determination, a mental biopsy of another hopeless cause,
that results in poems too long
though the body and mind are rested,
with six hours of uninterrupted sleep,
and volumes of dreams,
the quest bags a burr in the bed,
(yes, rhymes with head)
but n o t h i n g pops in with a grin,
and a bell ring, stating presumptuously,
why that’s me
and the fault failure fear
in me
engorges
this really distresses,
with & in a deep sense of awful,
how can I not recall this momentous
illustrative precious precision
proof of why life is worth living,
and worser still,
don’t I get to choose,
isn't this an interrogatory,
suitable for a pre-provided
Multiple Choice Answer?
a pause to collect myself from a
falling into a hole of nefarious negativity spiraling,
*suddenly
recalling so many
kind and gentle touching brushes
of your comments re my poetry,
which provoked warm tears*
^***and one more tine,
poetry has saved
a life***^
5:37am Saturday 2-15-25
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 5:47 AM UTC
There is no place in this modern age, it seems.
No "I could if I would and wouldn't if I couldn't"
Or some other convoluted phrase of a pod. Now
Getting out your phone is sufficient
To show to another some ghastly memes
Puerile goldmines, or else perhaps
Some comic vines
Or worser still, oh dear me
Some animal ***********
Now nothing shocks if not in the flesh
News of paedos on TV
Where used to haunt old sir Jimmy
Elicits now some some disinterested grunt, whilst genocide
Suffers horribly from being juxtaposed
With the football scores.
If nothing shocks, if nothing works
To divert the mind from those ****** tweaks
What good are words to those who still
Prefer to sit and tell a joke
Rather then hopping on the rumour mill
And spew much **** till we all choke.
There's no place for Wildeisms, for how
Can they compete with lolcats?
Wit is no longer about sarcasm and irony
For, dear god, the Americans run the world now,
And is now about a carefully placed
"Yolo", or perhaps a reference to some Facebook trend, or
Some other fatuous ******** It's so **** it drips with ****
So goodbye, dear wit, let me blow you a kiss
And let you know that I say, **** this,
I'm going to go watch Tommy Cooper videos on youtube."
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
rain is pouring
a stranger awaits
i don't know what i'm up to
but today's the day
that i'll shut off from
everything
you can say i'm a mess
a mess worser than the hair
on my head
because i am
i am a walking catastrophe
life's full of what if's and almosts
i guess i'm just one of them
an eternal drowner of my thoughts
a dead weight
a scribble of god's creation
i don't matter
i cease to exist
it's a revolting pull
a cycle
of madness & me
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
Lastnight Wasn't As Worse As Few Years Ago.
When My Mother Was Drunk Nearly Everyday,
She Didn't Care About My Brother And Me.
Now I'm A Little Bit Older And Much More Protective
Over My Brother And Myself.
At Nights When My Mother Was Drunk Out Of Her ******* Mind.
Use To Hear Her Yelling And Going Crazy.
Taking Her Anger Out On Us Like We Were Her Punching Bag.
I Had No Choice To Live With Her And Put Up With Her.
My Biological Father Was Gone,
He Lived Far From Us.
Only People I had To Depend On Was My Sister's Or Granny And Uncle.
During Some Cold, Blizzard Winter Nights I Walked Off.
I Walk To Somewhere Safe.
I'm Sorry I Couldn't Take My Brother With Me
It Was Too Dangerous And Risky.
Putting My Life On The Line
Daring Jumping Out Of A Window And Landing On Snow Or Either Grass.
My Brother Was Always In A Safe Place With My Uncle's Somewhere.
My Mother Kept Me Home, Didn't Let Me Go Anywhere
Or I Had Nowhere To Go.
Glad I Didn't End My Life
Had All Those Chances To
But I Don't Know What Stopped Me.
To This Day I Still Don't Know Where I'm Trying To Go.
I Have Everything, Just Got To Try Figure Where Or What Am I Going To Do.
Happy I got My Granny And Uncle's House To Help Me.
My Mother Is Sometimes A Drunk But Not Worse.
Yeah! She Still Calls Me Down And All That.
I'm Use To Words And Fighting Back.
I Walk Away Cause Its Useless Arguing With A Drunk.
I don't Hide As Much Anymore.
My Attitude Changed After I Realised There Were Worser People In My Community.
I'm Still Happy That's If I Got A Dog Beside's Me Always.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
he sings:
all he wants is nothing more
than to hear her knocking at his door.
& all i want is nothing more
than to be the one opening up my own.
she walks through streets of calmed anxiety,
a technique she has nailed into closed doors.
tranced, coffee sipping, malamente listening;
she lives in her mind for the hours she has to rest.
the summer soars; the light winds are for
whisking away the days til she returns.
though today she practices for the worser days,
she can’t help but realise these are more than okay.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 12:25 PM UTC
When skies flash and dark tides boil,
And the land’s set all aflame,
I’ll close my eyes and face the morrow,
To be a soldier born again.
Through shattered rock and broken stone,
Through vacant, barren squares ,
A curse upon who struggles on,
For on them the burden bares.
With ****** lip and battered bone,
The human treks the sand,
A victim to the past, not present,
Desolation of the land.
Those that find are left behind,
Can thank the stars they are.
But worser things than deathly sleep
Leave a different kind of scar.
If and when the 'end time' comes
For the untimely task to take,
A head held high, a glimpse of sky
Can freedom and hope make.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
anguish (as a species)
is a most fearsome animal
came to visit my abode
it is bigger than life and
at once too vibrant and too shrouded to define edges
save the glittering Chesire rictus that splits its skull
like broken mirrors
reflecting original sin as if you were the author
it characteristically blinds its victim
before inserting a single spine into the cardiac muscle
paralyzing both beat and brain
you may open your eyes once
(it will allow you that)
before the end
so you may appraise its shark-like maw
jaw dislocating wide wide wide
to afford room for your entirety
when it closes,
it is not like going to sleep.
it is no gentle light.
a worser fate, it lets you live
in the acid of its belly
peeling away your skin
pickling your eyes
until from yourself you can draw a sword
tear from the taut and distended skin of malice
and ******* forgive yourself.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 10:32 AM UTC
Betwixt our better and worser angel's voices in our heads
That aren't, nor curser, for our inner candle's always lite
So we don't curse the darkness, weeded, bring forth from
The Earth more, demanded by our roots, feet, hands, score.
Solutioning with reality is always diluting or concentrating.
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 4:28 AM UTC
I found myself in a dark room all day
Hoping the silence would take the pain away
No one is here to hear me when I cry
Maybe if I see, someone, I should just tell a lie
Because without you here by my side
How am I meant to stay alive
Why... am I a heartbroken girl... again
I guess the best moments happened back then
When you said you still wanted to be my friend
I can’t deny my heart started to mend
In a way you were my angel
Now every breath I take without you is painful
The hole in my chest is getting worser
And at the same time getting better
I’ll sing I out like Jason Derulo
Boy, I’m riding solo
I’m lucky I can handle this pain
And unlike you I can make it through the rain
I have a heart of gold
That never gets cold
I thought you would make me one less lonely girl
Because every time I saw you, you made my stomach whirl
I get it that your shy
But together boy we could've flown high
You’re a sweet and funny guy
When it comes to love boy you don’t have to lie
You said you liked me
That was hard for me to see
I don’t believe you were playing me
It was just hard for you to talk to me
It’s hard for me to sleep at night
Because in my head you’re a shining light
And maybe it’s true
That I’m still caught up on you
And maybe it’s all in my head
That without you my heart feels dead...
By Raena Kidd
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 6:04 AM UTC
I just feel like crying..
She doesn't deserve this...
I haven't heard her soft voice in so long...
And I was gone when I could have called her!
I was gone when she was put into the hospital!
Those devilish pure white rooms,
The rooms where everything bad can take the worser of turns!
I just feel so...
Helpless...
Useless....
I can't lose hope..
But I am...
It is all my fault...
I've always been there..
And tried my best to be her sister...
She's in pain and I can't help!
**** IT!
WHY HER?....
I'd visit her if I could...
But ....
I can't lose hope!
I won't lose hope!
EVERYTHING WILL GO JUST FINE!...
Won't it?
I am such a horrible person...
I should have called her everyday to check up on her..
I'm so young...
I don't understand ...
She's so young...
She doesn't deserve this...
I do...
I let this happen..
I'd **** the pain from her if I could!
But I can't!
****
I feel so helpless..
Useless...
Hopeless...
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 1:11 PM UTC
I lie in bed,
And stretch my toes,
And ***** a sniffle,
Before it goes:
Achoo,
my friends,
Achoo once more,
I'm spread upon...
my house's boards.
Boards,
I hold,
my back,
against.
I float,
above,
the ground,
of sense.
I leave you all,
for now tonight.
Though all I really crave is light!
May companionship...
find all.
May you're somber...
sorrows fall.
May your every worry fade,
like surfing the wind upon a wave!
Let,
good,
waves,
bless,
your,
days,
And good vibes,
bless,
your,
nights.
Amen perhaps?
I really don't know!
Can I borrow a map?
To find Mt. Flow:
And climb,
And climb,
And search and look,
And stumble upon,
the sacred book.
I quickly take,
a little peak,
before the...
libra-
rian...
slaps...
my...
cheek.
But it in that time,
short though it was,
I still managed,
to catch a buzz.
I took the apple,
from the tree,
and found a worm,
and A, B, C ' S
And Newton,
may have found,
gravity,
with his,
apple,
But he never explain it to children.
so forget the inconsiderate man...
who does not value the opinion...
of young minds,
that will them.
Mind the thunder,
between your knees,
the graceful rumble,
of ominous trees;
That lean and lean,
and wait to fall,
and challenge the roof...
with squeaks and squalls.
I hope no birds' nest downly fall,
and families get ruined.
Such tragedy, oh this'd be,
hard eggs shells turned to fluid.
Can a worser scenario,
be brought up by life's passing?
Can I witness such tragedy...
and forever forget laughing?
All life is equal,
in His holy eyes;
all questions silenced,
by his grace, Divine.
Night buds!
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC