Best On The Side Poems
nicotine
isn't clean
water's the cleanliness
causing some loneliness
use to be dirty
clean after thirty
On the Side
Authored by Chuck Keys
On the side of the road it lay,
broken, forgotten and sorrowful sad.
I passed it by, laughing with my friends,
with nary a thought.
But later,
I remembered it; why?
Who belonged to it;
and do they know of its disrepair?
Dust and debris covered some of it
but not all.
Emotionless it lay. No joy nor pain,
only the moment.
There was no life about it;
maybe there never was.
Oh how it struck me so..
the dog on the side of the road..
You have all been enslaved by self gain and judgement...
Why waste time?
What is sane?
and Who's to blame?
Oh how It struck me so!
The dog on the side of the road..
Look into those eyes...the feeling to know everything dies...
So sad that we only insist on the pursuits of our own...
Might as well let this world burn,
humanity will never discern....
Oh how It stuck me so...
The dog on the side of the road...
Err on the side of caution,
For often it seems to me,
If something is overly hard to do,
Perhaps it's not meant to be.
If there are too many precautions,
More than seems normal to you,
It may be better to re-think your plans,
For what's done you cannot un-do.
Sometimes things may seem the opposite.
It may seem to be total bliss.
But sometimes when things seem too good to be true,
You'll find that most often it is.
Life is a hard task master.
Learn from those who've been there before,
From those who don't oft slip and fall,
For it's hard to get up off the floor.
So err on the side of caution,
For often it seems to me,
If too hard, too easy, too much or too few,
Perhaps it just shouldn't be.
Many people swim in an empty pool and decide that pools are not fun. Is that really a true statement? Will time end? If you can not see the time, is it really there?
If everyone ran away from problem solving, would anything be resolved? Look at the people who do not practice that. Mimic them and watch how your life unfolds.
Running backwards down a road will get you down the road, just not the way you want. The last red dot is the only thing we hope for. Most people find this in hopeless things. Many search by reading blank books. Others ask people to find the answers for them. Answers can only be found within an individual's soul. Why are the titles more important than the content of the writings or production?
If caution is the side on which
You are supposed to err,
It’s possible to overdo it,
So you should beware.
It may be better letting time
Or nature take its course
And then you wouldn’t suffer from
Annoyance or remorse.
There is a line to draw between
What’s prudent and what’s dumb,
But sometimes fear kicks in and makes
It easy to succumb.
A car's pulled over on the road
And hidden by the door,
A child lets out an urgent stream
Within the traffic's roar.
The parent gets him back inside,
Their motions chop-chop-chop,
The passersby relieved to have
Avoided such a stop.
We've done this for our grandson
When there's been a pressing need
Although, of course, anxiety
Is surely guaranteed.
But when his dad is with us
We must detour off the road
In search of a facility
Containing a commode.
I'm sure his way is safer
Though with age, I've come to know
That, especially with children,
When you've gotta go - you go!
A man sat upside down on the side ways wall surrounded by paintings of his distorted pain and his unconscious pessimistic mind.
Cracks in the walls, cracks in his mind.
2 sides of the coin, 2 sides of his face and mind.
Wabbajack man.
He can't find a way out of all the cuts that rip him open exposing him to infections within him self.
A soft drip falls of the side ways wall falling into his eye burning him into charcoal. Left to scrape away by the others he fades away into the air as if he were nothing to them. they discard him not knowing or caring about him. He can't do anymore now. He knew he wouldn't make it far. All his life he was alone evanescing with time, nobody cared. The charcoal rehabilitates itself forming a pure black being only knowing black empty emotion and pain as it staggers through the mist of time and back. His dead essence scares them as they feel like they HAVE to remember him cause they made him commit suicide as well as himself.But it's too late. He drips into there minds disintegrating them from the inside causing an imbalance in there minds. Shattered into pieces they break like glass. He just wanted to be creative and express himself. killed by everything and everyone and himself and his thoughts. He did it for himself but even then it wasn't enough suffering with a lot of pain. He cared about some people but he was alone in his world in his head and it was inevitable sooner or later.
On the side of the road
I lay in a box
I wake up every morning to rummage for food
I stand on the sidewalk beggging and entertaining for a small scrap of change
The only safe haven for me is the public buildings it's warm and safe there
I sleep in a alley way don't know if I will survive a night
Muggers come in the night but I have nothing to give
They just beat me and all I get in return is bruises
I find a lottery ticket in a store and I have just enough so I try my luck
It happens that I won a million dollar ticket
I live in a mansion with a swimming pool
The mobsters who beat me Now work for me
Life turned out to be in my favor
Now try your luck
I have lived on the side for so long
A life full of drudgery and misery
A victim of unfortunate birth
To a lowly stock of humanity
And to that soulless contraption of a fatherland
Destined to scrape along
On my daily shamed trajectory
Of the wretched of the earth
Living a good life has always been a mirage
Gleaned from pages of papers and televisions
In the heat of electioneering campaigns
Which fizzle out as elections are won and lost
Why has a creature like me
And my ghetto siblings created
And Condemned permanently
On the fringes of life if not to
Mock God’s creation?
Why has nature bestowed so much?
But has failed to bless all equitably
Crosses on the side of the road;
Belief in passengers goes by —
Where wrecked light within flowers grow,
Crosses on the side of the road
That besides the glass window hold,
A memory's attest to time —
Crosses on the side of the road,
Belief in passengers goes by —
A BIT ON THE SIDE
They strolled together with wistful strides,
their marriage wows a step behind,
and all the absent qualities in tow,
the private mirth, the soundless words,
neither saw the storm in the winds,
that could rustle leaves in their lives,
neither felt the need to think or state,
what could not be re lived, or be at stake,
nor felt the guilt, which would be fed again,
with those excuses, to make things seem right,
knowing neither could stay away for long,
nor break the bonds, the yokes of wedlock,
those nuptial wows that catch up in step,
yet some times linger far behind ….
SUDHIR DIWAN
14 S O N N E T
you had a girl, but i was young and didn't care.
never knew the meaning of breaking up a happy home.
i thought one day ill have you on my own.
a fool in love.
driving around with another girl man thinking that was cool.
believing his lies, in his dark brown eyes .
visiting his job, with my head held high.
thinking our love was real, thinking our love was strong.
can't believe they let me get in too deep.
friends and family didn't tell me what i was doing was wrong, now my feelings i
can't keep.
so young and naive.
thought he was a pimp because he had two girls in his world.
i let him get the best of me.
in my heart i knew it was meant to be.
listen to his every word
thought he was Mr. perfect, thought he really care.
he told me my feelings i should never hide.
reality hit i was the girl on the side.
(aka CAN NEVER BE UNSAID)
i’ve lived my life so far
with one simple guiding adage
it’s served me well i think
though i’ll never truly know
these days it seems somehow
to weigh heaviest on my heart
and seems to hinder more than serve
leaving me to rethink face value
you see i've always lived by words of caution
‘what’s said can never be unsaid
words spoken can never be unheard’
so most times i hesitate think twice and thrice
and won’t say what’s on my mind
for fear words misspoken can never be undone
now it seems i’d want to bare my heart and soul
yet those same words of caution still echo in my head
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~CITYLIGHTS~ 2021
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Posted on September 19, 2021
Staying in a neighborhood
Where locals live and shop
Gives a taste of life beyond
Where all the tourist buses stop.
Discovering a small cafe
And breakfasting outside
Opens up a little window
To a place where folks reside.
Of course, the highlights beckon -
The museums and the parks,
The monuments and buildings
From which history still harks.
But there's something very special
When you start and end each day,
On your travels, like a native,
In an unassuming way.