"wronger" poems
There was a caterpillar that had no friends
She feared she would be alone in the end
She had all, but given in
She stayed in a trees
And hid behind the leaves
Until she ate them, or there was a breeze
She had become so very fat
All the other insects made fun and spat
Out cruel words, she no longer wanted life and that was that
But before she could eat the poison leaf, along flew a hunny bee
"Hunny child you just dont see
That one day your gonna fly like me"
She looked at him in bewilderment
Surly his brain was a little bent
Wings for her would have to be heaven sent
But she decided to hold on a little longer
Just to prove he couldn't be wronger
That bee's words she would often ponder
The other insects still showed their hate
The more they said the more she ate
She knew they was right she'd never find a mate
So she made a cocoon, to hide herself within
So she no longer heard the words that could condemn
What awaited her would be hard to comprehend
The bee seen the cocoon, and sat and waited patiently
He wanted to be the very first to see
At what a beautiful creature she had came to be
When she emerged the sun hurt her eyes
Many a day had gone by
The sun seemed way to bright in the sky
But then she got a look at her wings, they where gray
"Why didn't God paint them, why are they this way"
At the bee in disgust she shouted, "You should of let me die that day"
"But my lovely one, you are now a creature of the night
And will fly by the enchanting moonlight
And see many many wonderful sights"
"Besides my hunny chid they're wings
You can now fly to the heavens and sing
Your point of view will now change on many things"
"God painted your wings gray
So in the bright of day
Against the tree bark you can lay
And safely sleep the day away"
"God only picks the strongest
To prowl in the moon lit darkness
He only picks the bravest
That at night can help with the loneliness"
The Moth bent her head in repentance
She couldn't even finish her sentence
For she realised in that instance
The bee was talking about her transcendence
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
The world ain't all stage--It's sad to say; but Billy Shakes
He just could not be any wronger
When he states what's right or wrong
Or what could not be any stranger
But, still, he wasn't fooled by hardened faces painted grey.
It's more like half of life's a stage
with a few upon it dancing
and they sweat and count their crimes
and squeeze out gold from flesh of backs.
It's more like half the world's at audience
billions crammed into one room
and we sit in dumb amusement
just well-fed enough to watch
and growing number with each act
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
Life gives my stomach knots
Dread conquers my thoughts
I am weak, for I can take it no longer
As life goes on, it gets wronger and wronger
I look to the pills; I look to the bottle
They are kind and act as my throttle
Uppers and downers
My friendly encounters
People: my enemies
Hates and jealousies
They are all better than I could ever be
They have more than I could ever see
So what will I take today?
What will make these thoughts go away?
But they'll be back, just like a pest
What I need is eternal rest
Dec 17, 2010
Dec 17, 2010 at 10:25 PM UTC
There was a caterpillar that had no friends
She feared she would be alone in the end
She had all, but given in
She stayed in a trees
And hid behind the leaves
Until she ate them, or there was a breeze
She had become so very fat
All the other insects made fun and spat
Out cruel words, she no longer wanted life and that was that
But before she could eat the poison leaf, along flew a hunny bee
"Hunny child you just dont see
That one day your gonna fly like me"
She looked at him in bewilderment
Surly his brain was a little bent
Wings for her would have to be heaven sent
But she decided to hold on a little longer
Just to prove he couldn't be wronger
That bee's words she would often ponder
The other insects still showed their hate
The more they said the more she ate
She knew they was right she'd never find a mate
So she made a cocoon, to hide herself within
So she no longer heard the words that could condemn
What awaited her would be hard to comprehend
The bee seen the cocoon, and sat and waited patiently
He wanted to be the very first to see
At what a beautiful creature she had came to be
When she emerged the sun hurt her eyes
Many a day had gone by
The sun seemed way to bright in the sky
But then she got a look at her wings, they where gray
"Why didn't God paint them, why are they this way"
At the bee in disgust she shouted, "You should of let me die that day"
"But my lovely one, you are now a creature of the night
And will fly by the enchanting moonlight
And see many many wonderful sights"
"Besides my hunny chid they're wings
You can now fly to the heavens and sing
Your point of view will now change on many things"
"God painted your wings gray
So in the bright of day
Against the tree bark you can lay
And safely sleep the day away"
"God only picks the strongest
To prowl in the moon lit darkness
He only picks the bravest
That at night can help with the loneliness"
The Moth bent her head in repentance
She couldn't even finish her sentence
For she realised in that instance
The bee was talking about her transcendence
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
Do they see that she is barley holding ground
Desperately holding to the bars, putting on the strong face
But she really just wants to cry out loud
She has tired for three years
trying to be cal, trying to be brave
all the while holding back the tears
She can't hold on much longer
and it pains me that they don't see
The talk and act as if she dont mind
But they cant be any wronger
Do they see the blacked covered eyes
streaked with eyeliner once she finished
crying on my shoulder
Do they see that all the hurt all their lies
causes me to hate them as if they insulted me with ******
Do they see that it's stupid, dumb and awful
to cause anyone to feel this way
Do they see that it's stupid, dumb, and unlawful
to cause anyone this pain
But i guess the don't see
and carry on like nothing is wrong
leaving her with the question
Do they see?
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
One... Two... Three...
A burnt beard, cigarette in hand.... Snooze....
Four... Five... Six....
Things get hazy, a little confuse....
seven... eight...nine.....
The sense of fear, anxiety is lifted.....
This drink, this elixir, I've been gifted.....
Ten...eleven... Twelve.....
Nothing makes sense any longer....
Nothing could be wronger....
Stuttering... falling... can't remember....
The distance isn't here....
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen
It doesn't matter any more.
Your brain isn't like it was before.
Doesn't matter, Can't feel. Don't even know if I ever was real.
Keep throwin back the magic elixir,
Not knowing it, no more liqour...
fifteen.. fourteen... thirteen...
darkness is starting to seep in
feeling the consciousness at the back, its sin.
Twelve... Eleven... Ten....
Looking around, noticing the little things
the uneasiness it brings...
Nine... eight... seven....
Things are clearer...
Sobriety creeping nearer.
Six.... Five... Four...
Palms sweaty; Heart racing; Eyes wide; frantic searching; Body purging; Blood pressure dropping; head swarming...
Three... two....One...
You're gone......
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 7:25 AM UTC
I'm the wronger
a wooden soul
destined to stoke for eternity
I better start smoking again
maybe the harder stuff
to get my soul used to breathing in ash
my lungs will be black and caked full
chugging deer blood and bull
to erase
the feeling of me
you tell me I'm an un-thinker
superfluous thoughts of a prosthetic heart
I had a dream once
I was peeling
never ending oranges
pulling the skin from the sweet juicy
flesh
drops of tang slipping from my fingers
but never sinking my teeth into
orange suggests so many contrary things
trees indicate life
prosperity
but eating an orange means separation
illness
tie me down
batter me
I think it unwise
you chasing me
to the un-pearly gates
those burning barriers
you circumnavigate
while I will smell of citrus
for eternity
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 5:05 PM UTC
My body aches for your touch
I miss it so much
Why can't I hold the anger longer
Yes, I was wrong, but you were wronger
Day by day,
I'm feeling less of a human
Please save me, my beautiful woman.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 4:36 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Search,
It took a Long time for god to show me
Who I really belong to,
I needed someone at the time to care for me,
That's when I stumbled apon you,
Beautiful eyes , and the pretty dreadlocks to match,
I was so in love,
I didn't think when we started I wouldn't become attached,
Little did I know the time would come,
Sitting here thinking to myself,
That we couldn't be friends any longer,
at least that was what I was thinking to myself,
Its ashame to know that i couldnt be more wronger,
Not in my nature to be mad at her,
I should have blame myself for everything that happen,
For dumb ignorant reasons that would occur,
Dominant with all the attackin',
Care for her in a long state of knowing her,
I was on my best behavior,
Wishing every night that me and her could rule the earth,
And I don't even wanna stay here,
The clock strikes 12 I remember her name,
With a sense of delicacy,
I search for a better way to love,
Hoping one day she'll be into me.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
Let my past be published now,
I care for it no longer;
Look between my righteous things
To see I was the wronger.
Gather all the worries
I'd fret about in winter;
Shove them off the highest cliff,
Make them crack and splinter.
Traipsing in the gardenside,
Dancing in the hollow;
Feeling for a mason's nook,
Sweet Amontillado.
Down within the castle walls,
Down among the relics;
Bearded faces line the halls,
Lilting in Goidelic.
Slowing pace to stop and smell
Of a strange antiquity;
Thinking on a silver day
That happened once in Brittany.
Countrymen with muskets bared,
Bent on fiery shot,
Pounced upon the zealous rogues
Of Napoleonic lot.
Wand'ring mind, drop your guard,
Stop your nagging ways;
Hark! the drap'ry's bold aura
Welcomes warmer days.
Happiness is fleeting,
Sadness is extinct,
So let my every passing thought
Be mindful and succinct.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
There once was a man
That thought his member was grand
He called it the best in all of the land
He went from woman to woman
He said he was just checking their fluid
If your thinking he's a stud you couldn't be wronger
He's what my my grandpa would call a whoremonger
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
Existing on what's aware and listening
Quiet before speaking and always glistening
Hearing words not spoken when others run a lot
Seeing all that's going on when most are not
She operates on a thin wavelength of beauty
Hard to find for those who are too busy looking
hard to feel for those wanting to wrap her up for a booking
She's precious and sensitive beyond a thought
Beautiful and expanding and will always be sort
Surprises you when you think she couldn't know
Smarter than everyone but she'll never show
Withstanding enemies with her thorns
Staying beautiful and never forlorn
Spectacularly present with unseen pedals
So soft so sweet but of the strongest metal
Always precious, always special, always artistic,
always talented, always the insight, always so deep,
In the face of all that couldn't be wronger
what doesn't **** us makes us stronger
Respecting what's so precious like the morning dew
Congratulations on the glory of YOU
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
The longest marriage ended on day 33,227
that's 91 years and 12 days in "Heaven"
But I think we could last longer
but love is a twisted story so I might have never been wronger
like Mary Shelly if I die silk wrap my heart
because we're like art
How come every great romance ends in tragedy?
like Romeo & Juliet I'll wait beneath your balcony
like Augustus & Hazel
I'll love you even as an angel
because love is fatal
like John & Yoko
I'll smile in every photo
like Kurt & Courtney
I'll sing for thee
like me & you
we're always down and blue
but you keep my skin white
not red
just because we wake up in the same bed
even if we're not wed
I don't care
but you can bet your *** people will stare
when I prove I'm still there
on day 33,228 gasping for air.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
There once was a man
That thought his member was grand
He called it the best in all of the land
He went from woman to woman
He said he was just checking their fluid
If your thinking he's a stud you couldn't be wronger
He's what my my grandpa would call a whoremonger
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 10:13 AM UTC
Black, white and brown,
just a color not a sound.
inside were all the same,
" thats not true" others claim.
but we all have a heart a soul and a mind,
deeply inside were all kind.
A color shouldn't be the judge of who we are,
yet wars and fights leave nasty scars.
Were all human at the end of day,
so why make each other our personal preys,
Color shouldn't separate us but make us stronger,
those who are racist couldn't be any wronger.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
You try to justify
That a high mind
Cant find a way
To understand the pain
Of another
Can't control me with guilt any longer
Because a high mind is no wronger
Than a sober one
If anything
When my brain is chemically altered
I'll have way more ******* sympathy for you
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
On a garden tree of hardened leaves
slithers a centipede anemone
claiming to be a friend of me
sprouting wings splendidly
flying to the Nth degree ahead of me
until I can no longer see
where the wronger flee
behind a Chris Pronger screen
giving me the stronger steam
to bomb the seed.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 8:32 AM UTC
I don’t understand why it’s so hard for me to let go of something I never had
The number of poems I write, the number of crying nights, the number of battles I fight you would think that I remember a sight
of her
Though her life went dark when I first saw the light
Her life was taken away against my right
I’m sure a life as lonely as mine was never in her mind
And no matter how hard I tried to be happy the fire inside me always died
Maybe my life would be different if the sun of my world shined
I refuse to be part of this cruel game of life any longer
Maybe my fate would be different if I was a little stronger
But the pain that I’ve been forced to live through is something I refuse to longer suffer
Postponing the inevitable has never been wronger
Because there is nothing worse
than to never see your very own mother
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 10:41 AM UTC
I remember when I first felt the warmth of your brain;
The illuminating light that came from those pulsing electric tendrils of grey matter and the utter comfortability I felt when yours collided with mine and tiny nuclear bombs went off all over my skin leaving me with goosebumps everytime you spoke.
As we lay in fates womb,
Before we were aborted,
I couldnt help but know I wasnt worthy.
I still am not,
Alas,
This is a different life anyway, for a different person.
My mind dresses you in the colors of fall and my heart smiles at the image.
Your dark hair falling down over a rusty orange sweater and the olive skin on your hands peeking out from the sleeves.
I often wonder if maybe I read the whole thing wrong.
That you were as into me as I was into you.
But the night we lay there,
And I lay in awe,
Literally prone to your beauty,
And I built up the gaul to bring my lips to yours and yours sat still,
I felt the wronger.
I felt as though I was treading waters you hadnt mapped,
That this wasnt in your itinerary.
So I backed off,
Shock turned to sorrow,
Sorrow was slain by shame and shame fell to sourness and I stamped out most all the flames around us.
But I kept one and will keep it always,
It burns forever a still image of you,
Smiling, looking up at the night sky,
Random nameless decrepit buildings all around us and a spotlight of warmth and connection and humanity in the middle of it all.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC
Every slave must abide by its master.
The bitterness of carrying out
any action that will benefit others.
There’s no shame in not having choices
but there is in not having doubts.
Far beyond an ultimate freedom,
an excuse for an absence of self,
there is life overpowering reason,
and a reason overpowering death.
Being found in a state of despair,
stripped of respect to the bone,
a necessity more needed than air
to a slave – is a slave of its own.
Every slave must abide by its master.
Kneeling before what is stronger
or standing before what is weak,
is a future that cannot be wronger
or a past that could not be more bleak.
Far beyond understanding and meaning,
there is craving devouring men,
be it owning or knowing, or being,
it is always a mark of the end.
The imminent burden of pain
perishes as soon as you delve
into waters that can wash you away.
Every slave is a slave to himself.
Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 4:26 AM UTC
I'm sorry
I thought I was stronger
Should have waited longer
Couldn't have been wronger.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC