broken doesn’t necessarily mean
waiting to be fixed
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broken doesn’t necessarily mean
waiting to be fixed
random thoughts: we all have them, every second of everyday, so it’s no surprise when they pop up from time to time in the least and even a lot of times, expected places, like, hey, I was just thinking that, that’s my idea, or a kind of, sort of, variation of what I was thinking when doing X and Y throughout the day.
We’re very much alike even though it can feel like we’re so very different, but different in a good kind of way, a constructive way, a way that universalizes our emotions and expectations of ourselves and others around us.
I can almost guarantee you have more in common with the guy bagging your groceries, or pouring your latte than you do with fellow employees, or even some friends for that matter.
So, I’d like to propose that these rand0m th0ughts be an open platform to share, discuss, question, debate, relate, or even just to vent, with purpose of course, how full of crap menial thoughts throughout the day really are – perhaps they’re not?
Let’s decide together.
Conversation is key, and I look forward to hearing back from you readers, writers, and all around daily thinkers of rand0m th0ught.
I can turn it on
I can turn it off
a flick of a switch
or one more thought?
For better or worse
no light is wasted
if someone, somewhere
is reading in the dark.
I often hide the cover of the book
I’m reading,
commuting on the subway
or relaxing over coffee,
like anyone would care
either way, because yeah!
What if they did? They don’t.
But what if? And how does one explain
his book of choice, when more than not
the books I read give me no choice! Aha!
They’d label me pretentious, surely they should
but what if they didn’t?
Would I really have time for a friend,
when Whitman sings and celebrates self
Oh! You better believe I butt in.
The fears of men
are as trivial as
children, picking children in gym,
they never change
they just get bigger.
It’s hard
to be lost
in the shuffle
when you were never
even in the shuffle
to begin with,
like two jokers
in a deck of cards
we were made
for one another.
Can’t you see?
Or am I just
dying to be an Ace!
At least then
I’d have your attention
instead of picking hearts
like I’m a sure straight,
when we both know
you were the Royal Flush
who called my bluff.
You were the Royal Flush
that beat me at my own game.
I’m all out of arrows
Cupid texted.
Thank God for that, I reply.
But you don’t believe in God.
Sometimes, my friend.
Sometimes,
I do.
When
every
little
thing
is
on
your mind,
nothing
of
value
really
comes
to
mind,
like
twittling
two
thumbs,
sometimes
nothing
days
make for better tomorrows.
Happiness
& Love
killed
the poem.
As
for
the poet,
he lived
mourned his loss
then learned to love again.
The
proof
is
in
the
pudding,
but
I
don’t
eat
pudding.
So,
shit.