I'm Your Only Sacrifice
You have me live up to your expectation and provide even more,could this be your own private game?
You call me mean,but I can't be nice when there's nothing nice in front of me.
You call me cold,but I can't be warm when the world iced over.
You call me sad,but I can't be happy when all there's is sadness in your own eye's.
You call me jaded,but I ca't reconnect to emotion that died in me upon your very wish.
You tell me over and over to smile,but what the point if I long forgot to smile.
You tell me over and over to be happy,but isn't the point to be thankful to be alive and live the life given to you.
You tell me over and over release those emotion and let other in,but I've seen the broken spirit of letting other near without a thought of the trouble.
You tell me over and over to be less distance and away from the warmth,but all that matter's is that what taken care of is done.
You tell me over and over to not grieve,but who are you to say such words when your the one grieving the most.
Though these be my own childish whim's,I refuse to let my wounds have salt poured into them and you look over me while they burn and slowly disappear.
I want to let go but for all that it worth these weren't your dreams for me,to build that break wall not only to other's but toward you as well.
I will hold your hand even while you cry,I'll hold on until i can't.For you see I am your backbone your my light the reason for my jaded heart.
This is my own sacrifice,I chose this one for myself and not one given to me.
In ever little thing this is m only true fear.I will lose myself in the end.So call me what you want for it nothing more superficial scandal,That I have no need to control no more even if I be your only Sacrifice
There were many outlaws in the old west.
But one outlaw stood out more than the rest.
And his name was Billy the kid.
He was a very fierce gun fighter, that showed no fear, or remorse on who he killed.
Billy was quick at the draw with his colt 45.
So whoever went up against billy the kid, was surely to die.
So the next time you think of a outlaw from the old west, Think about
Billy the kid because that outlaw was one tuff cowboy.
This poem came about by a discussion at work describing a memphis burger and a classic one. I told someone they flowed together and they didn't believe me so I wrote this:
I went down to memphis
There was this, classic chick
With them hips, and red lipstick
A kiss so delicious that
I promised to this miss I would not dissapear
But I was dishonest, I thought I made it clear
That this situation between the two of us
Was not serious But she was delrious
Became so furious that
That month she had two periods
It only takes one to end my sentence
25 to life, Im not doin the time on that sentence
Doesn't matter if she gets me presents
Don't care if she gets madder that I am not present,
yet she gets sadder cause she still feels my presence
It wont be pleasant, if she doesnt let me leave peacefully
So I packed my things in the middle of the night
Took off asap so she couldn't pick a fight
Flew right back to my little house on the right
Split so fast like Kim Kardash was my wife
Realized that I just dodged a couple of knifes
It seems whack, But I just had to run and hide
This commital thing isnt for me
I am brittle, I crack too easily
Got to be careful cause I need Room to wiggle cant be
Strangled or tied down, I know It'll come back around
Hurt triple the times when karma
Shoots me down from the sky
So for right now, sayonara, beddy bye
Nice to know ya, good night
Two cowboys hungry and exhausted
weren't ready to challenge the canyons ahead;
one complained, " We need water! " The other yelled,
" We must be vigilant and alert,
we need sleep! " Indians are treacherous and wild! "
They wait for us towards sunset! "
" I agree," The one with ginger hair streaked with some gray
said. " It's unwise to ride in the dark! "
And reaching for their bags, they exchanged, " Goodnight "
and laying on large blankets, they snored away.
" John, wake up! I hear noises! " Billy whispered
with trembling in his young voice,
but He replied," A cowboy shouldn't be afraid
of anything but of those crazy Sioux with painted, red faces! "
" There are canyons ahead of us, danger
won't stalk our journey to California and it is a long ride indeed! "
" Billy, forget all the fright, get some sleep! "
He nodded, but with a doubtful look, he wished something on a star.
When you hallucinate our unknown fear, In the act of offsetting the oracles.Therefore Forworning ownself from its sacrosanctity shear, Subsisting off at the expense of the rescissive cycle, & It is risked to be answerably clear of the recidivistion, On our ragout heads would yet behest fairer? In the greegree region, If the unbeknownst boko were only so tinder, Would not its saracenic harem stoke. So they shorn in the allotments of massive alopecician , As trying tardy in some doubtful spoke, Men left out in its tincture realms, spun in
the air like a coin to come to face the faced,Grappling with the Hecates seeing an unkingly estranged from what had besought men engendered.
or tired love?
and weak games
Look at you!
Your such a lame!
Me cry?! Ha! Not no more!
Five point five years
What a joke?!
All you do is lie
Keep smoking your life away!
Wake up before its too late!
Before this love turns into hate!
Your too old to act this way!
Your too comfortable
You cant stay!
In my life!
In my way!
Goodbye to you!!!
I was born in Babylon
Everyday I want to be alone
I prayed not to get low
Everyday Babylon claim more soul
I just have to go, seek for more show
I grow with no shoes under my foots
Ganger is my food,
Mosquitoes sing the reggae allover my room
Webs block my views, killing my crews
What can I do to survive when am buzz
Where is that place to get crazy?
That place you cannot erase,
That camp with more space,
Where you don’t have to get late
That place where you just want to be free from
“Babylon” Babylon” Babylon…I want to be free
If there is a question, it should be about relation
My action will generate your reaction
Is substitution the way to be free from Babylon?
The game is always ON, grow horns like Capricorn
Cut the vegetables; let’s be able to be stable
Bright blue skies on a spring day
Fulfills my horizon
Blue birds and robins pass me by
Mountain, trees, and animals
Priase God Abroad
The frsh air bring forth calmness
A quiet serene a waits my soul
Red orange and violets
Represents God's glory
Flowers slowly rise with the sun
And water crickets sings songs of glory
Fresh water arises with the scent
Of of sweet savory of God's spices
Beach rolls in the lazy tide
I sit back and enjoy it all
The art of spring is glorification
Of all tings God created
He's the world famous artist
I am an invisible man.
Try and see me if you can.
Shy and quiet I remain alone.
Silent is my voice’s tone
No one can feel my pain and sorrow
As I hide inside of my burrow.
Shadows consume my body and soul
As I embrace the misty cold.
The reason for my unseen being
Lies in the fact I hate being seen.
This life and existence’s of my own choice
And I choose not to have a voice.
I am silent. Invisible. Inexistent.
Yet I am invincible, an immortal being
I do not know?
You can see them comin over the ridge,
The sun at their back.
The outline of their steeds they ride,
The dust they are kicking up as they blaze their trail.
The cowboys ride into town without fear in their eyes.
Years of trails wear on their skin,
Making their hands look like the leather of their gun belts.
They dismount and you can hear the leather of their saddles crackle.
The walk they have is of a gunslinger on the run,
The look of a cowboy that has no trust.
The squint in their eyes from the noon sun,
So many days of sitting in the saddle wearing on the pants they wear,
The horses drinking as though it's their last taste of water.
Trouble brewing in the air,
You can almost smell the gun powder.
Other horse men ride in with a thunderous ride,
Gun shots are heard,
They ring out like echoes of balls of a canon.
All is quiet once more,
Three lay dead.
The badlands make no sound,
Until the next possy rides to town.
A Will For Power Is Nothing More
A twisted ivy briars in desolate vague response
Deep inside the reality is we are all the same
To the caged barbarian to the hero's gain
Power was the same as Satan in his pride
Like some illusion we will often run away & hide
Yet still deep inside the valley high ramification
Sought through the exchange in viable haze;
Lukewarm modesty in some purple chase
Instead, I visualize power as in an illusion;
Fought back the tears with a smile,
A heart fixed in warm hysteria
I do not know?
yyou will adhere to me with a little less pain;you will see me write the greatest
pors;ever writtened;i will quote the lesser poets dream,i will rise for what they
never settle for,i will speak where you adverate writers refused;to accept;finually
closed the very acceptance and doors,i will make new prephrencies,i will
personally tackle the old laws not to justify the newwer folklore;yes america i
norma jay bertrand the writer4386/homeless international poet of the usa/07 can
make you wish and long for;me;you will fear me;i will have prejudice toward all
hypricratical oathes;of all ores,for they re full of vein repitushas and spoofs of
hells luring defamatories;yes ameica i will rewrite your own history books thats
what i came here for?you will fear me!i'm in your frontal room
fantasies;dreams;darkened indowendels;of revolving shadows of deep woods
where you live at;late at night;like a real reality boogie man;i might appear;make
you scared;i'll be only there hanging out with freinds you knew;when you couldnt
sleep no more tho i will be lurking around under your bed;in your own bedroom
floor;you will fear me will continue;