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
Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
The Beach of Promises
Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,
strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.
Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,
walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.
Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,
lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,
my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,
wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
At the time of my life, when all should done,
when my life should have transformed into just peace and fun.
The clock hasn’t paused
to allow me to sit
for a moment to rest my old bones for a bit.
Busier now than in my hectic life
where I thought that my work had given me strife.
Retirement at last,
the race has now run?
I’m afraid that is not the way it’s become.
For twenty four hours I worked every day
when I went to work to bring home the pay.
But now far more hours
I really do need
to just scratch the surface of my every deed.
They say that I’ve now got nothing to do
so I’ve time to help others to see some things through
Builder and plumber
consultant and friend,
there is no direction that I must not bend.
Taxi and baby sitter, help me move home,
mend my computer or repair my phone.
Just when I thought
that I’d earned a rest
I’m thrown back in the rat race and put to the test.
Although twenty four hours are never enough
and I get real tired with all of this stuff
now in retirement
against time I still race
for the youngsters today can’t keep up with life’s pace.
Look forward to old age, when you can retire
and sit with your slippers in front of the fire.
The time of your life
to relax, so it seems,
a picture so perfect …….it’s all in your dreams!
Ivor G Davies
Copyright © Ivor Davies | Year Posted 2015
The seaside...now there is a place I like to be,
To get away from the city the neighbours and some family,
To lay on the beach without a care at all,
Watching people swimming, sunbathing or just playing with a ball,
At the seaside you can eat fish and chips,
Or you can simply gaze at the distant ships,
Listening to the rocks crackle in the ebb and flow,
Of the blue crisp ocean going to and fro,
The cool sea breeze and Cornish ice cream,
Will always be with me in a seaside dream,
Yeah I really love to be by the coast,
And I hate going home the most,
So one day I will make the move and live by the sea,
Until I get old and life’s had enough of me.
Copyright © Robin Silver | Year Posted 2016
Days and nights napping to sleep.
Night after night to day again, life is becoming shorter and shorter.
Day time naps seem to be getting longer and longer.
Naps so deep, they lay parallel next to only endless sleep.
Naps that protect from the bedbugs and welcome all sheep.
Naps so stuffed and suffocating, you won't even smell your favorite home cooked
Naps that are dominating and so in charge that they only give you permission to wake,
under strict circumstances of suffering caused by the urgent pressure to urinate.
Naps so dark and black they devour they're pitch rite from beneath home plate.
Naps so intimidating and scary that even a yawn will make you weep.
Naps so determined and dedicated, its only guarantee is to eventually transition into
forever, permanent, endless sleep.
Nights and days napped to sleep.
Tony Dean Driskell
Copyright © Tony Driskell | Year Posted 2014
I learned the art of sulking in my mid-teens,
and told to get off my fat arse by all means,
It was the best time on Earth in my twenties,
parents released strings and no longer sentries.
Maturity started to ease me in the thirties,
someone said that all men were bastards,
traits, imperfections smoothed out in forties,
advised to watch out for incoming penalties.
The involuntary half-way was the fifties,
when you by-passed sex and stupid infidelities,
suddenly you were younger reaching sixties,
and dreamed of twenties, erection, more not less.
Eyebrows raised when a young wife greeted seventies,
but you may take a lifetime to find the right qualities.
Copyright © Terry Reeves | Year Posted 2018