This doesn't belong to me
here you can have it back
i held it now for almost seven years
its getting heavy
you can take it anytime
i don't want to hold this anymore
why cant you take it
it doesn't fit
and it doesn't belong
it tears me apart
the struggle goes on
go ahead and cry
i can hold onto that to
just drop it in and go right through
i'm just a stop
a shoulder to need
and you can go on lifting away free
i'm slowly falling
i'm tipping from side to side
i'm not quite stable
but i'm only here for the ride
i'm not going to take charge
i'm not going to sit
and stare out my window of regret
my window is clear
clear as glass
and gets bigger with everyday we pass
its making me sad
tears run down my eyes
i cant let it go
that's no surprise
i tell you what i tell you
and hear what i hear
but what about everything inside
everything i fear
i got that to
right beside the picture of me and you
i know this is crazy
and i know i am to
but what about my secrecy
i have to follow through
Old Otto Oppenheimer's, (originally of Oxford), obituary...has outsiders obsessed!
Only one off-spring of Otto, officiated.
Overheard were onlookers offering outspoken and outrageous outlines of odd and ominous occurrences.
On October 1, outside Otto Oppenheimer's optometrist's office,
(now overgrown by oleanders and one old olive orchard) all outdoors was overwhelmed by
oppressing, and obnoxious oxygen...(overcoming officers with obvious objectionable and overly organic odors, officers were obliged to observe how oddly the one ornery octogenarian's office was omitting organisms), ...,yet old owner's optic operation, out of order, still obviously open.
Old Dr. Oppenheimer occasionally offended oldsters with obscenities and orgies. Oh, Lord !!
Others opened up of opiate opportunities Dr. Oppenheimer offered.
Perhaps our playboy professor proved to be pleasantly proficient in poetry, perplexing police?
Writing world's wistful, wonderful, whimsical words, to willing, wealthy women, while....
wary, worried women watched him wither away from wantonness…
The old fool's fanciful fluent fables fell freely from false facades,
...finally forming furrows in fed-up faces finding fault in facts from full figured floozies,
and fanning flames of his fabricated financial follies. Faithful faces flushed failing to face being fooled!
Officers opened ongoing oratories, often obstructed by obstacles, oozing of oodles of overbearing oddballs, on occasion outwittingly obliged to organize, orchestrate, and outfox the oldsters, who overtook and obliterated old Otto!
Only to offer opposing opinions who ousted old Otto! Obituary offers overt opinions.
Officers offer ongoing orientations of Otto Oppenheimer's ordeal to offset obtuse observations!
For Nathan's Alliteration Contest:
He swifts on by like a moon lighted night.
He shines bright for a moment in time.
His arm's always open with warmth.
His smile always bigger then everyone elses.
His heart of rage and fire.
He swifts on by, he swifts on by.
Who will know the true man within.
The man thats full of sin.
No one can, no one can, for we are all just man...
Flames roared through the nights sky.
A glimpse of blue still protruded through the flames.
The heat warmed the mortals below.
They believed that this was a great night.
The sky emulated a beautiful red color.
The color was extraordinary with remnants of blue.
They believed that they were all safe.
They were not nearly as safe.
They were witnessing Armageddon.
The war between good and evil.
For no one is safe until judgment day.
That is the day when the sky will forever remain blue.
The birds will sing a tune.
The flowers will bloom.
That will be the day.
The day when we will all be ok.
Lasting memories linger lightly,
Swarming in a sensitive soul;
Weaving waves of wishes,
Taking a terrible toll.
Nasty nightly nervousness,
Results in ranting rhymes;
Harvesting of high hopes,
And savoring sensual signs.
Conspiring cosmic circles,
Whisper winter warnings.
Briefly believing blasphemy,
Fights feelings forming.
Insecurity injects inspiration,
Rotting the ropes of revelation,
Killing the chance of consolation,
Providing the pride in proclamation.
Empty enriched envy.
Loose longing lust.
Love lasts a lifetime.
Try total trust.
On this pavement walking in the cold,dark night.. In my mind theres a man edging on a fight, but when I come back to life its just a battle withen myself..... As I walk on this pavement everyday and night, thinking theres a man edging on a fight...
A link to my Poetry Book!
Peace & Love
I feed my hands…yes! With inks,
The ink does what?... Oh! My heart gives words,
Words from…yes! My brain thinks a lot,
Of course, from my lot!
I love to…,
Do I really love to?…
Or I’m forced to…,
Em, I’m pushed to…,
No, compelled to…
I don’t know!
What makes me write?!
All I see,all sees
All I hear, even all are “all ears”
How can I see a can and say “yes I can!”
Oh…I can’t stop” I can”
My “can’t” can’t stop my “can”.
I’m disconnected but, still connected
‘Prefer isolation but, I’m still among
‘Love to be away yet, I’m still around
My ink…or me sees a lot,
Thinks a lot,
Reveals my lot!
I wonder if it’s love,
Let’s give it a thought
I think it’s my lot
Or is it really love?!
Fireflies flicker and flutter beneath dancing trees
exotic breezes whisk and whisper through limbs and leaves
The Golden Goddess of Garden Glen breaths evergreen
Her elfish essence is magic and Her spirit gleens
for it's merely a moment at the wonder She whiles
She wiggles and giggles and then She snickers and smiles.
She's not really a Goddess nor is She a Princess
She's more of a mystical, magical Enchantress
She is The Garden's gleaming, glistening Governess
a caldron song singer, a spell casting Sorceress
She starts with Her essence then stirs Her spirit divine
She adds dragon teardrops, then mixes with sweet sunshine.
Simple solution of spellbound myth and mystery
secretly sublime not found, hidden in history
not mountain high, valley low nor places in between
is the glowing gleen of The Garden Glen's evergreen
it is just East of the sun and Southwest of the moon
in a place where clouds and castles float and stars are strewn
The trembling thumb of threatening thunder
Strikes silvery shimmering of silken sludge
And adjoins an arch on alter of an afforest.
It inverts insipid immobility of irrationality.