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On Writing And Words Lost Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Lost

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Details | Couplet | |

Hiding in the Flow

Ask me not for which I write
I simply wish to share my plight

Searching for answers, one little clue
I don’t understand the things that I do

I reckon I lost it somewhere in a tear
Shed over someone that I hold dear

But how can I find it, where did it go?
I think its hiding somewhere in the flow

The flow seems as natural as it can be
My own special way of dealing with me

The thing about writing is that I love to learn
Somewhere along the way we all get our turn

Our turn is crucial and there’s no going back
I swear, I could get lost on a small oval track

I reckon that’s the thing I love about our site
I shall never get lost, not as long as I write

To me writing is not just joy it is also a key
That opens the door and then sets my soul free


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Ballad | |

Im Gone

Life as a lonely lost poet bred from dark cracks 
Lost soul living plain and simple among the people black and white 
Drug along with alcoholic among us distracts 
Lost values and principles around one many continue to lack 
Everyday simple facts, its like breathing through plastic sacks 
Slowly suffercating until the brain goes wack 
Once death comes my way I must keep it part of my past 
Aint no way God going to bring my little brother back 
I guess its a curse upon all those of us living like outlaw of an outcast 
How the **** will I ever truly outlast until I heal and break out my cast 
God cant you see Im tired of wearing this permanent mask 
I know my poetry has hidden answers if I look and read closer so I shouldnt have to ask
 Staying lost is a choice in the open road with no gas 
So as a lost poet through hardships now and in the future I will outgrow it 
The devil trying to get my soul and behold it 
but I know only this one man controls it 
Its too priceless for even my own greed to have sold it 
So as a lost poet I will climber higher than high if not then right below it 
Found in a world of lies with few truths as but another lost poet


Details | Bio | |

I Am Poetry

I stand solo, aloof in the snow, a precipitation 
                     of words cascading from a nebulous eye 
Fathoms wide, forever dripping like wax onto 
                     a punctured paper serving a Sanskrit sky,

and spreading into sibilant sentences swiftly 
                     sliding from syllable sorcery to soulful serenades 
so silent in the shunting shout of white. Poetry 
                     fills a churning void where novels cannot wade,

Phrases solidifying into idolisation of emotion 
                     itself, isolation of the isometric individuality that so 
Crushes my keeling cavern of thought, ever 
                     careering from caustic career path to another new low,

Which so seems to crumble into crazy paving’s 
                    counterpart. In this first freeze-frame we can all grasp
A fraction of the familiar, oh so fractured by the 
                    fumbling nature of enforced form. Freed by the gasp 

Of a photo-opportunity glowing phosphorescent 
                    with firsts, I am no longer framed by the festering 
Constraints of non-fiction, and folding my fond 
                    farewells carefully, I hesitantly face a vision pestering 

Me, fearing the fiend that would open maw and 
                    gnaw beneath my feet, evoking an avalanche of the 
Vernacular, but I am further past this unfed 
                    existence now, loosened from the fickle friendship of a

Winter thaw. Focus not your gaze on the grinding 
                    gauze of the greats, for the pressing pestilence of 
Perishable poetry is elsewhere pondering its parallels 
                    in posturing and post-modern pining for forlorn love. 


Praise no other; I am poetry.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Library (Words to the Wise)

The Library (Words to the Wise)


Shhhhh!  No talking strictly enforced!
Most folks abide, except children, of course
And those who can’t read, don’t care, or don’t want
Goof off in the corners, or sneeze
As sharp, darting eyes of librarians haunt
Do you think you can do as you please?

The wisdom of giants exudes from the walls
Words that amaze, mesmerize, and enthrall
Lie untouched, undusted, forgot, and unseen
For racks of harlequin romance
Replaced in small minds by pulp magazines,
The classics have lost their last chance

Mindless amusement is what the world craves
Poe and Lord Byron must cringe in their graves
Dickens and Tolstoy and Steinbeck don’t matter
Now Paris and Brittany rule
All lost in celebrity gossip and chatter
The true kings and queens look the fool

But one in a thousand sees past all the fluff
They pass by the newspaper comics and stuff
To linger and learn from some eloquent master
Igniting a dazzling epiphany
A small step for culture to detour disaster
And rise above kitsch and banality.


Details | Alliteration | |

We Beat Until We Battered

We sometimes drink and smoke so much We get beat until we are battered 
Our dreams were like one giant wall of glass where upon they were destined to be shattered
 Broken in a heap of glass we now stay occupied where lost souls continue to gather
 Dark yet so desolate living amongst those were nothing in life but a quick death seems to matter
 It seems as if the harder we try the more below we get needing somekind of ladder
 All I hear are silent screams among gossiping chit chatter 
Our truth is getting skinnier while our lies are well fed by the way the are getting fatter
 Crying souls overcome those that are filled with laughter 
The clock for many of us gets slow but our life train to death only gets faster 
Many of us which remain lost in addiction looking for a positive leader, a mentor, some kind of master
 
But when shyt hits the fan we must remain strong even if we just lost someone close and are feeling sadder
 If life is to throw us those curveballs in a the ring then its time stop mr nice guy and get badder
 You must endure the shyt that you got to endure even if it gets your hands and feet a little tathered
 Life can and will get you drunk so handle your drink or let it bring you down until you can no longer stagger
 You must tell yourself **** them and everybody else because you still got skill even if you aint got swagger
 Just tell yourself "**** they judgements" because you know in your own eyes you still look sharper than a dagger
 SO QUIT ACTING LIKE YOU AINT NEVER BEEN MENTALLY BEAT UNTIL YOUR PERSONALITY WAS BATTERED.....BECUASE IT WHAT YOU MAKE IT IN THE END THAT TRULY MATTERS!!!!!


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Details | Acrostic | |

Lost In Thought

Now who would of thought the thoughts that would truly get the mind lost in fragile thought?
 So much on our known life, 
about unknown death when we laugh at others but at ourselves we really cry, 
in our very own hidden truth lies, 
amongst our own poeple who we defy, 
until we fight, 
for wrongs for personal rights, 
**** the darkness is what make us appreciate the light, 
I dont talk the talk nor do I walk the walk because I walk my talk while I swagger and swerve im my talks through these walks,
 Life can get so messy with death that its time for those of us here to grab the broom so God can mop,
 I live life to the fullest with what little I have because I dont have a lot, 
I live life shitty sometimes like almost everyone else like it or not, 
Im not special Im so unique Im individual with word talent I know I got, 
I know what I dont have so its important more knowledge among me is sought, 
I can be wrong half the time but can still make it 100% right I was self-taught among a young soul that seems to be bought,
 I got a bad limp but dont get me wrong I can still gallup through darkness while I jog lost in the early morning fog waiting to be patiently found in the midnight lounge where I trot,
 Truly lost so easily in profound hard thoughts litterally running from the cops waiting to duck and dodge from open gunshots,
 Bodies and shells drop where caskets are made among a dying crop, 
I can still make a splatter where there was just but a tiny dot, 
I used to have merely nothing now atleast I can truly say I have a safe spot, 
I was found looking for truth in lies lost in thought....


Details | Bio | |

Living for Something and Dying for Nothing

In the beginning I started off as just another nobody from another nowhere trying make it to somewhere as a somebody as everyone else. In the beginning I was BORN TO LIVE TO DIE, but in the process I was BRED TO LEARN TO SURVIVE. I became a CONVICT OF CHRIST through PAINFUL PLEASURES of my many struggles and strife's. I was a SINFUL SAINT but more of a sinner, mainly a loser and never a winner. I was once considered one of the best, now days I'm just trying to be lower than the rest, unseen in plain sight , NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS. I became lost in time through my many self-taught TRUE LIES of yet another LOST FIND growing up where few DREAMS LIVE , but many more DREAMS DIE. I soon got LOCKED UP but it was very educational because I LIVED IT and LEARNED FROM IT. I was given a choice to LIVE FREE OR DIE INCARCERATED, so I made that choice to be more loved than hated, so I became UNDER LOVE and OVER HATE, I learned to stop wanting and actually appreciate. Its been hard to change so I became a POET OF PAIN. That's when I learned the truth about those who think their dying for something but they might as well be living for nothing, because I learned that real truth comes from LIVING FOR SOMETHING because I ain't DYING FOR NOTHING. So now I am forever a W.O.L.F. once a warrior of lost freedom now trying to stay a warrior of lasting freedom you know what I mean.


Details | Alliteration | |

Downside of a Writer

They say Im a lover but I know I can also be a fighter/ 
Im living in darkness today knowing tomorrow ain't going to get any brighter/ 
Im so heavy in the pain I don't know when *****in life is going to get any lighter/
 My *****in life is all crooked and loose I don't think it's going to get any straighter or tighter/
 I just need to be useful and not happy is what I lost sight of/ 
Im a matchbook making matches light up because without me there ain't no striker/
 Im just a lost poet trying to find deep within this hard head as a true Writer.....


Details | Lyric | |

I Can't Say It Without You

I was your never ending composer
We spent many a nights, and many an hour together
But now you’re lost inside
And I can’t find my way, again.

( chorus )
Cause I can’t say it without you		
It hurts to be without the feeling		
Never knowing when it will return		
But I know that you would stay with me	
If you came back, again some day		
But till then I’ll wait till you appear.	

I really miss the way you make me feel
People said we were meant to be together
Why’d you leave me so unexpectedly
I hope you come back soon.

( Chorus )

It’s been two months since I’ve written you
All I’ve got to show is crumpled bits of paper
The passion and creativity is now gone
So come back home so I can work it out.	


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Inferno Negro

the negro is inferno. doomed for hell. sinful with lost indulging in their own ignorance. made into a reincarnation of the devils wishes. the devils wants the devils needs. they say the pigment is the reason. but i say Jesus is the reason for the devilish seasons excuse my blatant response to the evils that have been done in the name of the SON. the inferno negro is the movie of this country, always watched and critic-ed. you must understand that self hating is very wicced, misunderstood when you walk through a suburban neighboorhood the devil is screaming conform!! conformm!! inferno negro you dont belong so just get along, even if the devil knows. the devil knows your story and your weakness and he lives behind and inside the so called supremacy system we live within. peace inferno negro know thyself for you are so lost in this Babylonia hell.


Details | Alliteration | |

One Among Many part 1

Chapter 1 
As but only one young lost man in a great land I sometimes don’t want to see what I see in life but death causes me to look. I don’t want to hear the things I hear but have to admit the things here that I’ve heard. I don’t want to be guilty today it’s why I continue to strive past my past for innocence in the near future. I don’t want to feel what I feel but after another day in this dark place has gone by I can’t hide what I have painfully felt. As but one young man I wonder why I question others motives and still can’t see the answers to my own as if I know all the answers to life when I don’t even know the true cause of my own. I wonder why I am happier at times but more often than not why I continue to be sad. I look for ones in groups of twos and get lost in groups of threes, but don’t get even me started on the groups of fours. On the outside world I am lost yet inside myself I know I am found, I holler silently at night while I quietly pray during the day. As but only one young man I can only do what is best for self-first if I want to start making a difference for two. 
Sometimes life for one can be fun, but on the reservation more often than not it is boring and dull. On the reservation I found serenity and solitude in the hills but I also found old savages and young Satan’s in the towns. I see beauty and peace in Mother Nature but I also found violence and ugliness among my very own in the neighborhood. I see not what I see and I think not what I think for I feel what I see which leads me to think. I choose rather to just be rather than not be what other people want me to be. I see what I see because I haven’t really got a choice in what I will see, I’d rather choose to just say that I saw. Outside people can’t make one see what I already choose not to see for I see what I see rather if they want me to see things their way or not. I can’t feel what they feel unless they feel what I feel and live where I live and be where I am to know where I truly am from to understand the thoughts and feelings of not only a young native of struggle, but as a person worldwide no matter the skin color.


Details | Ballad | |

The Artist and The Poet

There aint no other way how to put it or how to say it,Im the Artist and the Poet/
 Through my created creations I show it/ Im gonna rize to the poetic mountain top before you even know it/
 This my poetry and self-made concrete art only I control it/ So all ya critics out there behold it/
 I was gone for a minute locked up and locked down trapped inside concrete/ 
I was at work the whole time my poetic skills only got better they did not sleep/
 Now I arize through shackles and chains I now know true defeat/ 
Im here to stay Im the artist keeper the true se7en poet of keep/ 
I will do what I gotta to be poetically remembered the day I go se7en feet deep/
 But for now my life upon ya'll I lyrically creep/ 
My thoughts are one of a kind they cannot be replicated/ 
Im so relevant now fifty years from now I still wont be outdated/ 
Its your coice you can love it or you can hate it/ Go ahead haters debate it/ 
Still Im the Artist and the Poet thats my motto statement/ 
A whole empire of poetry and artwork since lockdown I have painfully with pleasure created/ NEVER AGAIN WILL MY ART AND POETRY BE UNDERRATED/
 I was nothing before all the time spent in concrete and confinement/ 
Now Im truly poetic with artistic assignments/ Anything I draw I can also rhyme it/
 There are more to my tattoos each one has a story and a meaning behind it/ 
I knew there was hope in poetic art I just had to find it/ 
All I got to say now is "F@#k ya'll who wanna Doubt me/ 
F&%k all dat shyt you judge me like Im on American Idol when you dont even know shyt bout me/
 Your vision of life is blurry and your death thoughts seem to be a lil cloudy/ 
I am a Poetistic Diamond in the rough it was God it wasnt you who found me/ 
Now I know more people from around the way gon crowd me/ where money and trouble again will surround me/
 I was a lost gem on lockdown waiting to shine, waiting to poetyically explode/ 
A natural born poet carving out my own road/ Living by my own F%$#%ckin poetic codes/
 I can't be rhymefest free when I get lost in that poetic mode/ 
My Time is almost here/ I been waiting for this momnet all f&&%&ing year/ 
I cant believe I made through many concrete shed tears and many unheard of outside fears/
 My freedom day is near I will not blow it/ 
This my time now homie I control it/ Im concretely the smartest writer even if you aint know it/
 MAKE WAY PEOPLE FOR THE SE7EN KING ARTIST AND POET


Details | Alliteration | |

One Among Many part 2

I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better. 
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
 I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
 I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.


Details | Couplet | |

Flying With The Birds

If I were to believe in you, would you believe in me?
If everything that I promised you actually came to be

If I were a beautiful rainbow, a reflection in the sky
Formed by the rays of light as your tears you cried

Sweetheart I am just a simple man with a complex plight
My blessing is you’re here with me, as this quest I fight

Sweetheart you know I’m a warrior, though I live like a ghost
I fight and write living my plight, inside the belly of the host

From shore to shore, a forever war, that will never end
Just today I got the word the host has taken another friend

Another soul another goal of course another wasted life
God I am a lucky man to have become one with my wife

Pains insane it shreds my brain and tears my heart into
I’m left here asking myself, “Was there anything I could do”

I have to write a eulogy though I just don’t know what to say
Here is a soul, another hole, for someone who lost his way 

Sobriety is really great but at times it is truly rather hard
You watch them take another friend and plant him in the yard

Another smoke, another joke another party has reached its end
Here I sit in a spiritual pit feeling totally lost about my friend

I hope someday someone reads what I say, takes another course
Pass on doing that shot, love it or not, death upon the black tar horse

So I shall write my Eulogy falling to pieces about my friend
Who made fun of the man I turned out to be, until the very end

But that’s ok it was just his way, right up until the day he died
The one true light shinning bright, lives inside of you and I

So will all of you join with me let your spirits pen my words
About a beautiful soul, who found his goal, flying with the birds


------------------------------------------------------------------
Very few people in this life that I love enough to let make fun
of the changes I made in my life. Addiction (The Host) took 6
friends in 2007, 5 in 2008 and this is the first in 2009. He didn't
overdose he was shot a couple of days ago in Chico, Ca during
a home invasion robbery over his heroin debt. I used to always
pay his debts when it reached this point with bags of Meth. This
time I couldn't go there for him and now he is dead. This is my
life, my gift and my curse. God Bless you all, mj


Details | Couplet | |

LOST LOSER

          LOST LOSER

Bad enough to hear ‘you lose’
Then a flock of mail flies in
Don’t know which one you should choose
Then you glimpse ‘an AWESOME win’

Maybe it’s my humble past
Maybe it’s my country school
No one smiles when they are last
If you do --you’re called a fool.

Glory is its own reward
If you win your heart beat sings
Friends will greet you if they can
Life is sweet on eagle wings

Time is precious, time is short
Worlds await on shelves in books
Brush twitch paintings-- feet seek sport
I crave salmon on a hook

Ungrateful twit that I may seem
Courtesy is sometimes missing
My head I'll dunk in ice clogged stream
Avoid the flock of kiss kiss kissing

If you note that I have lost
Spare me time and spare me shame
Spare yourself the time it costs
To remind me that I’ve lost again



Victoria Anderson-Throop
Nov 30, 2012


Details | Free verse | |

Lasting Freedom

In the beginning I started off as just another nobody from another nowhere trying make it to somewhere as a somebody as everyone else. In the beginning I was BORN TO LIVE TO DIE, but in the process I was BRED TO LEARN TO SURVIVE. I became a CONVICT OF CHRIST through PAINFUL PLEASURES of my many struggles and strife's. I was a SINFUL SAINT but more of a sinner, mainly a loser and never a winner. I was once considered one of the best, now days I'm just trying to be lower than the rest, unseen in plain sight , NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS. I became lost in time through my many self-taught TRUE LIES of yet another LOST FIND growing up where few DREAMS LIVE , but many more DREAMS DIE. I soon got LOCKED UP but it was very educational because I LIVED IT and LEARNED FROM IT. I was given a choice to LIVE FREE OR DIE INCARCERATED, so I made that choice to be more loved than hated, so I became UNDER LOVE and OVER HATE, I learned to stop wanting and actually appreciate. Its been hard to change so I became a POET OF PAIN. That's when I learned the truth about those who think their dying for something but they might as well be living for nothing, because I learned that real truth comes from LIVING FOR SOMETHING because I ain't DYING FOR NOTHING. So now I am forever a W.O.L.F. once a warrior of lost freedom now trying to stay a warrior of LASTIN FREEDOM you know what I mean.


Details | Couplet | |

THE WORD AND THE WRITER



The word calls to the lost writer, “I am right here.” 
The writer calls to the lost word, “Right! Here I am!”


Details | I do not know? | |

Unashamed Self-Promotion

:-)


Greetings, good and kind fellow Soup-ers!

'Tis wonderful, I say,
to be a Soup-er, so if I may,

I humbly request you to lay down your pen dipped in fine ink,
and visit my blog which can be found at the following link:

http://afzalmoolla.wordpress.com/ 

Now if this blatant self-promoting of mine seems rude,
I ask for your generous forgiveness, dear fellow Soup-er,

And wish you a day, that is peaceful, kind, and just plain super!

So cheers from the scribbler for now,
and as I take leave, my fellow Soup-ers,
I, in courtesy, to you all, do bow!


:-)





Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Broken yet Bound

Yeah I know my life may be broken but yet my purpose in my life is still bound/ 
Im picked up by Jesus everytime Im lower than dirt burriend alive underneath the ground/ I look for signs, I look for meanings, I try and hear something great but cant hear no sounds/ 
I look like S&^t, I look like a clown/ 
I know life aint no joke, aint no game because a lot people I seen last decade and last year are no longer around./
 I was lost in lies until I found truth, I was lost in prison until appreciating freedom in me was found./
 IM know I still got purpose for broken life that is bound...........


Details | Free verse | |

The Same Reservation Road

I walk through the reservation valley of alcoholic death/ 
I fear no darkness among my own for the light breathes life on its own through my every breath/ I can no longer fit in for I need to stand out above the rest/
 I can no longer follow, I got to be the host of my own because Im tired of being the guest/
 
I want to be the writer I dont want to be the reader/ 
I want to be the artist with the brush, I want to create I want to finally be my own leader/
 I want to be able to follow society's rules because I am tired of being a cheater/
 I want to be the supplier because Im tired of being the seeker/ 

I guess life is what I make it/ Forgive less as much as I still continue to forsake it/
 My life is just a jolt but at times I feel death shake it/ Grab my emotions by the reins and straight earthquake it/ I try and fix my problems until someone comes by and breaks it/
 but this is my time because Im still young so this young opportunity in life I must Take it.
 
I got to hold my head held high from being low/ 
I got to stay lost until I find my own being my purpose of another young lost soul/
 I cannot stop because Im too tired of staying stuck I must stay on go/ 
This my life now I know it my story waiting to be patiently told/ 
This my life now I got to let it un fold/ Let it slowly but surely grow/ 
Im just a hidden bomb waiting for my poetry to blow/ 
EVERYTHING I DID OR DO IN LIFE NOW IS SOMETHING I CHOSE? 
I GOTTA CHANGE BECAUSE I JUST CANT KEEP WALKING THE SAME RESERVATION ROAD.


Details | Free verse | |

Tongue Tied

I can’t write today
my tongue is stuck in my cheek
the pen’s dry
powdered ink like sifting sand 
on greased paper flees.

The well is dry.
Pump priming is required
and my feet are stuck
with my mind and arse to the inside
of a dry mouth.

Click, click, click
the false keys chirp
mimicking the old black
typewriter..
chitter chatter.

Sunbeams have lost their perk
caffeine has lost its BUZZ
the dust bunnies are playing stick ball
between my post caterpillar eyebrows 
even flaxseed oil doesn’t damp the dry mouth.

Perhaps, I’ll have a cold one poured?
Prime numero uno..
grease the wheels of mediocrity?
Sharpen the nib of my font?
“Oh do stop that incessant gibber!”



Details | Blank verse | |

Lost Poet

Life as a lonely lost poet bred from dark cracks 
Lost soul living plain and simple among the people black and white 
Drug along with alcoholic among us distracts 
Lost values and principles around one many continue to lack 
Everyday simple facts, its like breathing through plastic sacks 
Slowly suffercating until the brain goes wack 
Once death comes my way I must keep it part of my past 
Aint no way God going to bring my little brother back 
I guess its a curse upon all those of us living like outlaw of an outcast 
How the **** will I ever truly outlast until I heal and break out my cast 
God cant you see Im tired of wearing this permanent mask 
I know my poetry has hidden answers if I look and read closer so I shouldnt have to ask
 Staying lost is a choice in the open road with no gas 
So as a lost poet through hardships now and in the future I will outgrow it 
The devil trying to get my soul and behold it 
but I know only this one man controls it 
Its too priceless for even my own greed to have sold it 
So as a lost poet I will climber higher than high if not then right below it 
Found in a world of lies with few truths as but another lost poet


Details | Lyric | |

All Along the Watchtower Re-Visited for 9/11

"There must be some kinda way to find out here"
Said the seeker to the stealer
"There's too much confusion
I'm struggling to be the reveal"

"Conglomerate men, they drink my wine
Politicians dig my earth
None will level on the line
Because none of them are worth it" hey

"There is reason to get excited"
The seeker, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us
Who feel our governments a joke"

"Now you and I, we've lived through this
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour is getting late", hey

Hey

All along the watchtower
Liars kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too

Outside in the cold distance
The C.I.A. did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl, hey

All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower

All along the watchtower on that tragic September day
We need some investigation, for someones has to pay
Now you and I, we've lived through this, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, before this generations to late

We will always remember, and remember who we lost that day
We need some investigation, for someone has to pay
All along the watchtower, a nation in mournful cries
We are not so blind, it's amazing what you can see when you close your eyes

All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower




.~ James, we lost you in Kensington, England. The Star Spangled Banner will
live long in your past. I can't say the same for some of your American so
called country people. Thank you for allowing me to gracefully use . . . .
'All Along the Watchtower' it's blatantly obvious someone was not ~.

To all the lost in the 9/11 tragedy, my thoughts will always be with you.






http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/music-3.php


Details | ABC | |

The Letter S

I can use the letter s with so many s words, 
I am the seventh sign supreme soldier from the reservation suburbs, 
I fly like seagull in the open ocean sky supreme like an serpant eagle eating birds,
 I am so solid Im siked and sipped up from the sizzy sizzurp, 
I stagger until I swerve swiftly as snake in the souless society lost curbs, 
life so crooked it stained with soaked blood life around death curves, 
I cant believe so many lost soveriegn souls *****on they own siblings as the culture turns,
 I know I am sure of being sure of what I sought to learn, 
The brain with suicide can sometimes burn. 

Souless savage in society I be among little certain satans, lost in circles saying "7th Sign Empire Engraving"like my own still souls of savage culture on certain colors discriminating,
 But whats even worse is soul on souls hating, 
Society severed in broken circles still forsaken, 
Serpants searching society split in seven different groups of seven hundred seventy-two,
 Forsake my Se7en and I forsake thee seven times seven fold because truth be said Im souless to you,
 Se7enth Sign Supreme Solid Serene Soldier of of the sacred seven, 
I say I have always said society on my word S


Details | Sonnet | |

Reality or Dreams?

You think there´s no reality in dreams
Hark! I had my cup and taste Fantasy
Contrary to me you follow schemes
so being abstract, my eyes get hazy

There´s a prize for my Hallucination
And prize I mean: lost or lasting glory
And lost is lost in Mankind´s short Eon
Myth to me is bigger than a story

Had I sweeter words for you – Capricorn?
Here is my dreadful promise in a wink
If I win my glory you get your scorn
Then back to bluish vision I shall sink

Take my friendship, I like you very much!
Reality for you? In dreams I catch!


Details | Blank verse | |

Standing in the Darkness yet again

Once again trapped in the darkness with worded guns still trapped, 
Im just trying to make a statement that will make it on this American map, 
Im getting old as I only live this youth once so I best live it searching for light in darkness of black,
 Years gone by a lost youth going away time lost that I wont ever get back, 
So it best I get back on the track......... 
Now iz a tyme for flames hope I spark this, 
Poetry like mine many will come from places near and far and embark in this, 
I will literally be the found ancient lost seen lockness..... 
Lord please guide this soul as I am standing in the darkness......yet again....


Details | Free verse | |

Lost In My Thoughts

How long has it been?
How long have I been writing?
Did I miss dinner?
Has the sun gone down?
Is it rising in the east?
I could not hear the music I was playing
The radio’s battery died long ago
How could it have been silent for so long?
Could I have been lost in my work for so long?
Time went past without me noticing
I was sitting in my chair typing on my computer
Right where I started so long ago
Thinking and writing
Not noticing the world around me
I am forever lost in my thoughts


Details | Rhyme | |

Doesnt make sense

I think ill make something new!
Something somewhat different with the words i spew!
Something about lost love to be found.
That will end up driven right into the ground. 
Or in a box called lost but not found.
Or make something about death so hollow and sad.
So sad it will move the hardest prison grad.
Graduet.
Get it?
But anyways maybe not.
Maybe ill write a story of a baller getting shot.
But yeah ill probly not.
Whats on your mind though?
Have you got the time to find the time then let it go.
Just grab a notebook and let it flow.
Its like riding on a breeze nice and slow.
Like flying a kind real low. 
Its easy unless its not simple.
Like when you use big words to sound obedient.
Which only rymes with words like expedient.
I dont even know what that means, i just threw it into the ingredients.
Sounds like a word thats rather deviant.
I like to build my poems like a subservient structure. 
Im loosing it so bad my brains about to rupture. 
This write sucks it doesnt make any sense.
Hence.
The reason im on the damn fence.
Becuase nothing i seem to do.
Seems to make sense.


Details | Classicism | |

Contradiction

I feel so lost so gone, but yet so found/ My mind so weak, so fragile, but yet so determined so bound/ Mind so high so fly but still on the ****in ground/ Voice so silent so quiet, but yet so loud/ Feel so skinny so thin but still gaining them poundz/ Thought I wouldn't make it through the first but still standing in the seventh round/ My words so limp so skimp, but yet still making them gangstified soundz/ I feel so energized so choatic but still wanna lounge/ Ya'll better be ready when 7 comes through your town!!!! I can't lyrically quit for shyt/ Living around rez life lyrical bull isshh/ fake ass hating trickz/ wanna be bloodz and fake ass cripz/ I jus need to kick back and take another green hit/ ****a alcoholic fit/my own lizzife iz like a three dimensional skit/ I got to wake up and let myself go..can't hang on no more......gots to find my lost heart and soul...God please let a young native like me grow to know the real shyt in life!!


Details | Free verse | |

Lost poem

They say every word spoken in the earth
Goes to a celestial bank in heaven
And becomes the music of the spheres
But I have penned words from heart
And here in this electronic room lost them
What of them, the bosons of my brain
What of the Creator's lost in his domain
What of my poem, the poet and the bird
Have sent to spheres with songs unheard
O they are gone like a child not yet born
Gone, grieving the mother's grave-like womb 
Did I have a miscarriage too
And when the music swells the sphere, will I
Be honored for my words that came and died
Is there a monument for poets in the sky
Is the wind a fragment of my song, I sighed
O the pain not to teach it with my tongue to sing
Or feel in my breast its fluttering wings
O the injustice of it! A poem is a fetus too
Until its cuddled it is not born, and yet its gone
As if a thing not yet alive could die; dark dawn
Cease! I want my child, O Jairus, to live again
What else shall poertrysoup take from me
In this electronic world of technical tyranny?


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Real Aftermath

All of the aftermaths occur after the wake of a bunch of terrible events: Hurricane
Katrina, the September 11th attacks in New York City, War in Iraq, and others. these types
of tragic events and a bunch of aftermaths have been around since the day the world was
created by God. There's no telling what will happen next if these tragedies keep coming
unexpectedly and stuff. It seems to all of the Americans today that after these tragedies
like the deaths of their loved ones, the deaths of most U.S. soldiers, Hurricanes Ike and
Rita destroying Houston, Texas, these people are trying to deal with the loss of their
homes and other people have been mourning the loss of the ones who've lost their lives to
these tragic events or by the hands of evil people. The aftermath of those events have
been haunting the lives of all U.S. citizens since day one. What makes most people sad is
that they have to deal with the fact that their loved ones are gone and other people are
still trying to deal with the fact that America almost lost its innocence, even after
9-11. These events have been talked about on the news at 5:00 p.m., 6:00 p.m., and 9:00
p.m. This is so wrong, especially for us Americans. Tragedies and the aftermath of all
heartbreaking tragedies are starting to make us even more sad and depressed. Everybody
doesn't like it. And if all types of tragedies continue to rise and there's going to be
more aftermaths after those tragedies or whatever, we'll be in for a rude awakening.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

92

92
How some students grew up on the Computor? 
and can't function in the real world right click the bus mommy and place it at the 
stop it is taking much too long to come around the horn. form method="post" 
This paragraphic is free to be a space bar for mee and ewe. 
option>Sometimes in my fables there is parts and pieces of mye poems this is 
not yellow journalism or nepotism or even bad form eye can copy and paste and 
then add text eye can translate pictures into banners and banners into love eye 
can relate a page to GOD and find a way to enter clouds formed and someday 
eye will make it rain inside this idiot Computor box and it will fry all the electronic 
components of every Computor in the world then we will all go outside again and 
inhale the fresher air. 
value="Radio" 
Just now eye went to a Bravenet website to make me a new website and its free 
but of course the upgrades would cost me but the free sights is challenging and 
it gave me a code for a welcome type box and it did NOT work as it is in the form 
of a a href not a url. The idea is the webpage would bring me people they would 
sign my little guestbook too bad it does not even relate to the page it won't 
translate at all the code is wrong its backwards to a forum type webpage the url 
is too long. The HEY REF only works on websites the URL IMG thing only works 
on FORUMS how many people have followed links to there destruction. When 
eye got the thing on my FIRST PAGE of HOME the thing took off with me when eye 
clicked it open we went for an internet ride and eye lost the page eye was on NO 
fun. Eye would not want a HOME Computor user to become lost in navigation 
when he was just trying to let me knoe that he had viewed my poems. The thing 
is done the web page that they gave me is very green and nice looking but does 
not do a real function oh well in this Brave New World does anything rally have to 
have a function and so mye gentle reader ewe it seems to mee the eye the poet 
fable maker fabulist like Aesop that eye am just the new proud owner of another 
big white elephant so they will always benefit from instruction of this knowledge 
from someone please open windows as many as yew want and let them learn 
yew some. 


Details | I do not know? | |

Bad Poetry

I've spent so much time trying to write a good poem, that I've ignored the possibility of
BAD POETRY.

Bad poetry,
the soul speaks in cat-whispers,
I meow one back,
The garden bleeds living colour,
I sprout something too, words,
and if need be, rhyme, 
free as a bird-
but not as verse, remaining free;
so too the copycat found consonants
of dead poet-kings: You're lost little girl,
you're lost, tell me who are you? feign
that you know what to do, impossible
yes, but it's true you're spilling ink
and in vain, there are strangers in your vein.
And Poetry as 'pleasure' - has hundreds
of possible people lost in sterile tissue.
White paper, raped with black and red
marks, ink scars, odd words, scrawls
(hooded shawls for masked feelings),
or bad poetry, as roses are red,
violets are blue, the wind is empty,
and so are you. Hollow as the inside
of Russian dolls, but no layers,
a pale balloon above the midnight ocean.
Bad poetry can be a half-assed baloney
sandwich on 9-grain rye, I am sad,
I have a pearl in my eye, my cat is warm,
her fur is fluffy as a pillow, I love my cat,
but not enough to string two adjectives together
or hint at the existence of two, mutual, 
HAIRY, souls. That's how I felt about my ex-
girlfriend, she was ummm... pretty as a rose
wilting in a 1950's prototype refridgerator
set to "cool", slow... so slow. 
Hey mockingbird, can you teach me some 
good poetry? Echo nature in your warbling cry,
and teach me not to mention birdsong when
the forest is being tugged like a flea-ridden carpet
right from under our feet. Habitat first, then habit.
Google "bad poetry", then read a poem about
fat people, and scoff- wow that's some good stuff.
At least it's relevant, unlike the ivy crawling 
in your front yard, no one wants to hear about that!
Or a poem that sounds like someone is talking, right?
That's right Jim. I maintained a steady gaze at the
window in the den, there was a small creaking sound
and then the coroners were cleaning blood with vacuums
and lye. Uncessary, completely unessary and poorly spelt
uncomforming in letter disign, unforgivabull! Shit, it's
too long, introspective, neurotic, and not child like at all:

Puffy clouds wake our family,
mom gets up rubs her eyes,
dad gets up and puts on pants,
I glide down stairs,
dreams in my hair,
marshmellows in my cereal,
and an apple like a baby in my knapsack,
we go to school and the bus seats are comfy
as my bed, but no, school sucks.


Details | Rhyme | |

Monty's Poetic Years

Well Monty drank, smoked, and shot up till his mind was numb
He had to live with his choices and he wanted to forget some
He once said “Anyone can be happy, but those stories have all been heard before,
It’s the tales of troubled days and sinister ways that I write for.
It’s not the story of the loaf of bread, it’s the story of the dropped crumb.
And if you wanna’ be a poet you gotta live in the trenches and you gotta’ be scum.”
Monty raked all of his friends into a pile and let the wind blow them away
Saying if they were meant to stay on the tree, then they would find a way
And before he knew it his addiction raped him bone dry
Food and water was no longer all he needed to the get by
The streets became his home and the gutter became his bed
His hunger couldn't be fed, his words were now shriveled and unread
Monty cut off his toes so they’d fit into the shoe
And picked the pedals off his rose just to watch where they flew
Searching for his lost ghost, following it’s transparent cries
He began to ash his cigarettes into it’s eyes
Monty was in the stages of insanity, and he lost all of his vanity
Death teased him behind every corner, loving the way he begged 
Monty had no feelings anymore, he had no pencil or paper to catch his tears
All he had left inside were his stories of a crumb and his poetic years with scum


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry Is Alive

Somebody said that poetry is dead;
I hope for my sake that his statement’s wrong,
For if it is, I have so much to dread:
I’ve lost my thoughts and tunes expressed with song,
I’ve lost the many lines inspired I’ve wrote,
The rhyming words--well, they just don’t exist;
And time that I now to this work devote
Is gone just like the passing morning mist.
And contests that I’ve entered are in jest,
For they can’t offer any kind of prize;
The books they offer--filled with emptiness
If ever this great literate talent dies.
Well, I don’t think that poetry has died,
And as for all those narrow-minded men,
They once again with their comments have lied,
Attempting to keep silent someone’s pen.
As long as words in any language rhyme,
As long as thoughts in any man can thrive,
As long as history ticks the pass of time,
The good news is that poetry is alive!


Details | I do not know? | |

Reason to Rejoice 11032011

REJOICE WITH ME BECAUSE I HAVE FOUND THE COIN I LOST LUKE 15:9

WHEN MY FRIEND CALLED to tell me the story of how she lost 
One of her expensive hearing aids
It sounded similar of the lost coin
Diane described how she had taken care of 5 or 6 errands in a day

During that time she placed her hearing aids in her pocket
When she returned home
One of them was missing
Diane hurried back to all places she had been

Retracting every step she searched for the precious item
Her voice held such amazed joy and gratitude 
As she related the moment of actually finding the tiny hearing aid
No wonder Jesus used a story of losing and finding something of value to describe the joy God has over “one sinner who repents

When I hesitate to let go of an old hurt 
Avoid repenting of my wrong doings
I hope the memory of my friend’s enthusiastic discovery
Will nudge me to give the Holy One another reason to rejoice

Readings and Gospel
Romans 14:7-12, Psalm 27:1
Psalm 4, 13-14, 
Luke 5:1-10


Details | I do not know? | |

IMPRISONED HEART

Like a trap,was a pit dug,
On a peaceful journey,my heart fell in love.
Bounded with shackles and chains,
my poor heart felt banes.
A sweet memory,that i never wish to re-
experience,
like the pains of Christ on the cross,hence.
The earth lost is complexion?
my heart lost its sane state?
Gone imprisoned heart inmates,
i voice out into he winds,please pay attention!


Details | Classicism | |

The Poetic Script

A life in words wrapped in truth hidden from lies underground speaking so silent across the waves making them ever so loud.
 A life abused until the body is damged far deep into the soul looking for redemption in a world of numbers and codes lost somewhere on this crazy road.
 I see what life is and what it aint but moreso at what it outta be, so I look hard for something different for yet another lost soul on the stop waiting to monopolize and collect $200 past go.
 So I look at my life story and how I live so I write it in words of laughter but mostly hurt.
 So I write words out my mouth until I spit for truth I dont quit for *****in a world of *****pits among the strong who survive with mind wits I write until I shake hands with fist given vulgar lips living life is like living a trip so with these words I cant miss leaving everything I live on the list because every second we live is another second added to my entire life poetic script....


Details | Prose Poetry | |

One For Love

Your sweet breath escapes you and engulfs my soul 
Through words spoken as though from some celestial being 
Warm emotion floods me, floods my very fibrous core 
Love I feel is not a mere four letter 

Word that reluctantly man takes for granted, but more a 
Monument to the jubilous fire you set my soul alight with 
Speak, I cannot, the true magnitude of shear bliss 
Endured by my mortal flesh. With the slightest brush 
Of your angelic fingers. None can know or fathom 
what true insurmountable beauty lies within 
green fields of yet discovered highland plains laden with 
flowers and sweet honey aroma blows within. Feeble 
in my attempts to profess my own meek emotions 
turmoil of my own past colliding with the yet to be. I destroy 
myself knowing such turmoil I cause in an entity 
none like yourself. Meager apology and material possessions 
offer no hint of emotion of love and remorse contained 
My, love, our love, will endure of that much I am sure. Open my mind 
My only wish, to show you things I need you to see. I have known 
No strength such as yours you take for granted. Times as this 
I've never known but with you only would I have it to spend. Forget 
Not the who I was, the who I am, and the who I will be. 
My love, our love will endure of that much I am sure 
 
Monotony & Mundane remain the same 
caught in this slippery pretty net 
we're all falling in and around our own whirlpools 
our upward spiral climbs too high - the higher up the further down 
Fly the same play the same one with the other 
floating always floating 
This sea we've created weaved in the merciless 
fabric of the time we all flock to certain death 
holding the hands of our clocks & wondering why 
our own bleed. double edged is the face of 
a sundial. With each shadow flicker anguish & 
joy death & life exist permanently & are lost forgotten 
by time held by life lost by eternity. 
Let's all rally hand in hand while the band 
plays on 


Details | Quatern | |

my outer thoughts

i am lost in my outer thoughts
don't know which way to look or turn
i scratch my head in disbelief
right now looking for an answer

can you help me find what i need?
i am lost in my outer thoughts
i have categorized them neat
but still i do feel out of sorts

what an i missing in mid air?
once again i have lost my pen
i am lost in my outer thoughts
trying to write what i do feel

here i go losing track of self
and my new found partner the pen
it's hard to keep track of ones self
i am lost in my outer thoughts


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Of Waters

Mother of Waters
you're peace and tranquility;
how I long to be as free.

Oh Mother of Waters,
mighty! untroubled, and true!
change me to be just like you.

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

But who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say 
what commands your violence?

Sweet Mother of Waters
graceful, mystic, serene...
who can know what you have seen?

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

but who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say
what commands your violence?

Dear Mother of Waters,
great mirror of the dusk and the dawning...
calming, soothing, everlasting...
how I long to be as free!

Change me to be just as thee.


Details | Free verse | |

The Ghost

I'm gone just like that at the blink of an eye 
and the critics don't know what side I'm on
because I reside wit them both them
niggas that blow hella weed smoke 
and this lost generation thats beggin for hope
and they think it's a joke but me I just float 
away like a boat on a cruise and life or death
curses and blessings which one do you choose
and whats rule 1, live everyday like it's ya last one
poetically sadistic strapped emotionally wit a 
brick of C-4 and a revolver wit one in the chamber
and since I'm a ghost, like the Great White Shark
my name spells danger I'm far from bilingual
 but spiritually I then spoke every language
and I'm gone like the spirit of the lost victims 
like a well people keeping throwing coins in
and keep wishing like Christians who's 
spiritually fishing... I'm A Ghost


Details | Free verse | |

' Lost Poems '

Only A Poet Would Understand
Only A Writer Will Know…
Why I Would Feel This Disheartened and
Why I Can’t Shake Writer’s Woe… 

… I Lost 200 Poems or More
Tho’ The Exact Count Doesn’t Matter
Most of What I’d Written Before
… is  no  longer  gathered

A Circumstantial Mishap
My Family Didn’t Realize
That Case… That Mildewed, was a Map
Of My Flight thru Vision-Skies!

Eclectic, Romantic, maybe Eccentric
… also of Favorite Things and Fantasy
… Kinetic, Static or Copacetic
And Sojourns into Soliloquy

… Only A Poet Would Understand
Only A Writer Will Know
Those Exact, Precise – Phrases, won’t come again
… I can only end-up where they go…

Lost Type-of-Line, Pencil-Points of Lead
Lost Sonnets, Songs and Secrets Said
Now, Instead of Ink-Blots, My Tear-Stains Spread
Those Lost Words… Ripped My Throat to Shreds !

… Lost Track … Lost The Time …
Lost Treasure – Can’t Find Rhyme
Lost That Paper-Trail… of Where I’d Been
Lost Paper-Peace –that was Marked:  Amen

and I’d Rather Have Lost My Money
‘Cause I Can Always Earn A Dime…
Instead of My Increased Memory
that Remembers This Literary Crime ! 

… Lost Documentation of Determination
Documentation of Dreams
… My Certificates of Celebrations
… My Tickets To My Park-Themes:

… of Snowflakes to Raindrops
From Heartaches to Heartthrobs
From Whispers to Declarations
Of Best Friends, and Far-Vacations

200 Trains of Thought – Wrecked
200 Expose’ Sheets – Axed
200 Treatises, Throwed Away, Gone…
… on Tragedies, Joys, Jokes and Moans

… Yet, I Rely On God, to Resurrect The Dead:
My Older-Sister, Brother, Grandma, Mom And Dad
and … if its not too silly, vain or bad…
Resurrect Those Words, I Wrote and I Meant to be Read…

Until then… 

Only A Poet Would Understand
And Only A Writer Would Suppose …
If I Do Not Write Again
What Lost Poems You’ll Never Know…


Details | I do not know? | |

BUFFER

BUFFER
All of us have feelings all of us have love but all of us build a buffer in-between 
the real world and the occurrences’ the bad news and the disturbances and the 
wars. It is not the ostrich neck bowed down with the head inside the egg hole it is 
not the hair the dog tosses up on back of all the issues. It could be the reason 
we can live when it seems all hope is lost it is the reason a man keeps hoping 
that his lost love will come home.
We simply make a buffer a buffer zone if you will of many different feelings and 
many different ills. The news is very bad today but supper was so nice the 
cheese and bagels and the onions made me feel like eye ate twice but several 
people died in ASIA and there eye have some friends and when eye read it eye 
let it hit my buffer so eye can live. When the story becomes the MONOLITH of 
headlines and even videos then the BUFFER will absorb the thing and keep me 
from the suffer of a world in turmoil and my supper sets inside my stomach 
becoming something else a different form of matter to be discarded and avoided 
by the others of my kind. The buffer is my ZONE the buffer helps me on the long 
walk home it does not meant that eye do not care or even love it is just the 
BUFFER sets in place to keep mye heart.
The prayers and tears pass through the buffer zone and yet eye rise for one more 
day a little jaded a little green around my eyes and search for one more answer 
at life in the buffer zone.


Details | Rhyme | |

Lost Jewel Found

When you find a lost treasure,
You are mighty pleased,
And I found a lost Ruby,
One who'se rich talents were
Never squeezed....
So it's a Christmas gift from heaven,
To hear from this valued jewel...
I hope she stays in touch,
Cause her wisdom is a tool,
Helps me make it through tough days,
Gives thought to things I write,
Ruby, I did miss you,
Turn on your shining reddish light!


Details | I do not know? | |

Fortune Favors the Brave

If my ink poured out success,
Would my words still hold their value?
If I wrote a book around emotions,
What more could I tell you?

If fame became my fortune,
Would we still be friends?
If my life changed dramatically,
Would I still pick up a pen?

If I left tomorrow,
Would you follow me?
If my words don't move you,
Would you give me eyes to see?

If I lost my passion,
Would you show me how to love again?
If I lost my will to write,
Would you help me pick up my pen?


Details | Free verse | |

Lost And Found

Lost And Found
Every airport and bus station and any public patterned place has a lost and found 
department the idea of this new poem come to me in one a library made of love 
listen as eye make my poetical approach
Good morning desk person please may eye see inside the lost and found box 
please (conscience speaks) (eye did not rally lose not anything just let me see 
what’s there so eye can score) well eye need to see what’s there to help me 
remember what eye lost you found it eye am sure there could not be a thief at foot 
in a library made of love.


Details | Free verse | |

My Soul's Revenge

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

The Ocean's fast asleep 
and still my soul is weeping 
spent the night counting dreams 
you make it up to me another way. 
The sky is just too big 
it reminds me of my insignificance, 
how small I am 
this far away from the sun, 
and still my eyes burn. 
Nowhere to run to sort things out 
and I'm lost inside 
It's like the transmission scrambled my thoughts 
so the unholy wars wouldn't begin. 
I'm on my own, 
I'm down on my knees, 
I'm searching for answers 
with this lost hope and broken dreams. 
It's too late, 
I don't want to go on 
all talent has abandoned me 
all gifts of virtue plague this heart. 
And the stars remind me, 
I'm a lone soldier in this faded memory 
of what is once known to be today. 
They say eventually it will come 
and it will come from a deeper place 
They say it will happen just baby steps 
but I always fall flat on my face. 
Can't you see? 
even in my hopelessness 
I'm a ray of sunshine, 
sending my chaotic confused love to you 
can't you see 
in this organized serenity 
you've taken from me 
I'm a momentary hero 
holding you from the light 

The ocean's fast asleep 
and still my soul is weeping