Not
every
person
is meant
to
stay
in your life
forever,
but
that doesn’t mean
you can’t tell
their
story,
it doesn’t mean
they’re
not
a part of yours,
so be a dear
and change a name or two,
just don’t
spoil
the end —
they’ll know if you do.
Home » Posts tagged 'poem' (Page 96)
Tag Archives: poem
This is me trying to be o.k.
I am trying to be o.k.
Thinking about young souls who’ve past.
Contemplating Cancer’s reasons.
Sometimes hearts just stop.
This is me, trying to be o.k.
Not that young anymore.
Grey hair no longer a curse,
but more of a blessing – there is beauty in age.
For now, I am o.k.
As for tomorrow, history
seems to shrug it’s shoulders
leaving me out of the loop.
And I’m o.k. with that.
This is me trying to be o.k.
The trouble with book lovers.
Two book lovers
sit together
on the subway
reading
alone.
Do they
have
anything
much to say
to one another?
Or
is
the story
they’re reading
better?
Probably not.
I bit my tongue writing this crap.
The
deeper
you try
to be,
the
more
shallow
you become.
Do you see what I mean.
Good riddance.
Can you hear me now?
Yes,
now that we have stopped talking.
Good.
Yes.
Things have never been so good.
Conversations with myself.
I try to hang loose
but always end up
twisted, like a
damp dish towel.
Stained and tattered.
Are we really back here again?
Rinse and repeat.
Haven’t you learned anything yet?
Rinse and repeat.
I bet you like it this way, don’t you?
It’s quieter here…shh!
With voices in your head? You’re too easy.
It’s alright if you sweat, just
don’t let them see you turn.
Are we really back here again?
Metaphorically speaking,
we never actually left.
Places just become new places.
People get replaced by other people.
Lies become fiction.
Truth becomes fantasy.
Like a damp dish towel,
twisting facts
until
they hang loose.
Morning musings.
In the morning
before the sun
when the birds speak
and the city wakes,
after a good night
of drink,
the cure all — water
by my bedside,
I listen
to the sweet symphony
in my guts.
Optimism from a Bachelor’s of Science.
Rack focus
to what’s important.
Don’t get caught up
with all the blur
in between.
You’re the director,
the cinematographer,
the 1st and 2nd AC.
I’m no scientist
but I can work a camera.
Yesterdays sadness today.
The day
is cold
and rainy,
the walls
smell
of paint,
a hint
of death
lingers,
my pockets
are
running dry,
control
is
a state of mind,
right now
I’m
out of it,
I bought
flowers
to liven up the room,
they
help
some,
today is
a soggy
mess,
as for
tomorrow
we will see.
The point
is,
that we will see tomorrow.
Foreign Language.
Slithering
slurring
sound,
that I can not understand,
reminds me,
how little I know,
how truly little I am.
And that
for lack of better words,
we
are
the
same.
Words Of An Average White Male 