Best Confusionwrite Poems
It took 89 days to write one song
I found 89 ways to sing along, with you
I gave 89 seconds of my time
of which I fell in love with your eyes, that's true
And now I'm here thinking
What Ideas I can, muster up.
I sit and wonder, what's coming up
All I need is 89 things to get enough
Still I wonder what could be coming up...
I saw 89 people walking by
It made me feel 89 times- better then what I missed
I have 89 poems in book
but I have 89 more i'll write for you, just say the word
And now you're here thinking
What ideas I've been, thinking of
You sit and wonder, what is coming up
All you need is 89 things to get enough
Still you wonder what could be coming up
I MADE 89 THOUSAND HEAR MY NAME
ALL THE 89 TURNED AWAY, BUT NOT FOR YOU
I GAVE 89 REASONS FOR US TO BE
I WROTE 89 REASONS FOR US NOT TO SEE, EACH OTHER... IT'S ME
AND NOW WE ARE HERE THINKING
WHAT IDEAS I'VE BEEN THINKING OF
WE SIT AND WONDER, WHAT IS COMING UP
ALL WE NEED IS 89 THINGS TO GET ENOUGH
STILL WE WONDER WHAT COULD BE COMING UP...
and I know...
I don't like what it will be...
The future sucks only for me
I know what will happen to you and me..
So I just try to stay cool
But I've got 89 reasons for us to be
and I wrote 89 reasons for us to reach... the end together
but it's a lie-
and I've got 89...
Alas I find it quite perverse, I only write in rhyming verse, the habit has become a
curse
It’s time I though of quitting
I’m very envious of those, who effortlessly turn out prose, that without rhyme just
some how flows
Their skill is unremitting.
Even if I take my time, my poems somehow end as rhyme, becomes a literary crime
To all who are discerning
At spelling I will always fail, my grammar too is very frail, therefore I feel I’m bound
to fail,
To satisfy my yearning
Though I try with all my might, to make my poetry sound right I simply am not
erudite.
enough for inspiration
Therefore it's very plane to see, the thing that is obstructing me, I lack perspicacity
I have no education
I should have listened more at school, stopped behaving like a fool, my pen could
have become my tool
To fulfil my ambition
To write with style and panache, in literature to cut a dash, instead of which I come
down crash
Trembling with contrition
Now it’s time to turn to drink, and put away my pen and ink, give up the quest that
makes me think
That I could really write
No more to comment on the news, giving vent to biased views, or writing of the
global blues
It’s time I said good night.
-Why am I nervous to write feelings down I didn't know I was feeling.
-An urge to write, a feeling to.. articulate.
-What am I scared of as my write handles trembles, as I scribble nothings.
-Is there something important I should be saying.
-Staring..at..my..last..thought
-Waiting and hoping the next line will make sense.
-Maybe thats it. The fact that I don't make sense.
-Mixed up world.
-No LOVE.
-Afraid to trust her.
-Who is her?
-Who is her? Repeating myself as if I already know her. Jogging my memory.
-Is she looking for me?
-Can i still feel?
-Terrified to think that meaningless kisses and gently hard pulling hair is the future I will
build a family on.
-I am aware. Change your ways.
-But why?
-Why repair?
-Is she looking for me?
-For the second I'm pausing to look at my last thought, and I'm Gilligan. stranded.
-The shaking in my hand has become sweat now.
-Fear is described as a unpleasant emotion caused by the feeling that something is
dangerous, likely to cause pain or a threat.
-Answer: WOMEN.
-Answer to the shaking.
-Answer to the sweat.
-I'm scared, Its inevitable, you'll meet her and she'll cause you to write again.
-Must have faith in something your terrified of.
-What is scaring me now, has the ability to save me now.
-Answer: LOVE
-Love is Napoleon,Veni, Vidi, Vici.
I sit here at my desk, trying to find some
inspiration. I read the news and watch TV.
I see the entire world up close. Now tell me
again about inspiration. How can I write a
heart warming story with all the ugliness
I see.
Actors and ball players make all that money
while people's children go to bed hungry.
All the greedy politics that go on, while
death tallies abroad on foreign soil.
Let me get this straight, I write a line or
two and make it all go away. If I could do
all that, man hold on to something. But I
just sit here at my desk looking at all this
crap, of reality shows and all the millions
some punk rocker makes while he rolls.
Life's title is; "Give me all I can take".
There you have it, my inspiration for today.
i sit here thinking of things to write,
looks like it could be another long night,
i write of love, and i write of hope,
i write about drink, and i write about dope,
i write about things that come into my head,
and i write about things , that i have not said,
a lot of things, i just lock away,
but they are not away, away to stay,
things keep flashing at the back of my head,
so i write them down and free them instead,
theres so many words that run through my mind,
but peace is the thing, i am trying to find