Best Same Old Poems
I hate the way you look at me
It reminds me what we used to be
But our love wasn't real
When I look at you
I can't control how I feel
You don't know how badly you hurt me
All I can think is "How could he?"
It was all a lie
The "I love you" and "Forever we'll be"
And yet I believed
Everything you said to me
I was your biggest regret
I just can't let go yet
I tried to change for you
But that wouldn't do
So I sit here and ask
"Why does it always seem
I always fall in love with someone
Who isn't in love with me?"
from "Bar Notes"
I sat by myself in the back of a bar room,
Hearing the jukebox and sipping a beer.
Someone kept playing that same old song over.
It was the last song I needed to hear.
As if out of nowhere a woman's hand touched me.
She asked if the chair that was closest to me
Was saved for another, or if she could sit there.
I said, "The last I heard, the country's still free."
She sat down beside me and drank from her whiskey.
She told me, "I've only got one thing to say.
If you are as lonely as I am this evening,
There's no need for both of us leaving that way."
I smiled at her courage and wanted to take her.
I knew how a desperate passion runs deep.
But I told her gently, "I thank you, but no thanks;
Tomorrow a memory is all we could keep."
She smiled at me sweetly, and as she was leaving
Said, "Maybe I'll see you. And maybe you're wrong."
And while I stared into the beer I was nursing,
The jukebox kept playing that same old sad song.
Another Advent of the Same Old Events
(Apropos December, 2016)
In this new season of Advent,
We still face
The same old weary events;
It’s still all about race.
Strange fruits lay rotting
Along the treed street;
We still can’t escape the spotting—
Wherever we go, justice we never meet.
Daily courts of law remain a mockery;
Our shaded lives still don’t matter—
In our modern share cropper democracy,
Equal justice is just idle chatter.
If to this you don’t really agree,
It’s evident—you don’t look like me.
8/10/17
Be careful what you ask for
Next thing you know it wasn't all that great, or you want even more
This isn't the same old spiel
I'll tell you something real
Everyone has an 'Achilles heel'
Speaking the truth, life is rather short
Don't be a poor sport
The ball is in your court
You are really barking up the wrong tree
If you think you're godly
Compared to everybody
Only here once
No ifs ands or buts
All eventually bite the dust
It's not all make believe
From A to Z
Others will always meddle
I don't care if you believe in god or the devil
Better grasp the nettle
Instead of trying to always settle
If you want to reach a higher level
Again
I'll hit the nail on the head
Don't get misled
We all wind up dead
I'm going to call it a day
But not going to throw it all away
I’ve had my heart broken many times before;
Been beaten down and battered – trodden into the ground
Men have called me names, have shattered my fragile ego
It’s happened so often I no longer feel anything but dull resignation
I am used to being treated like dirt you see;
Like a body without a soul..
But God, I didn’t expect it to happen this time –
I really thought that you were different
You, with your soft eyes and revolutionary tastes
I thought there would be none of the usual mind games and manipulation
Just the comfort of two kindred spirits bound in nocturnal naivete
Gently fumbling for each other in the dark...
I thought that you might be kinder
With a diamond heart to offset your black hair
And that stained and baggy band shirt
But of course dreams don’t come true – and if they do they’re skewed
Like every other man you turned your back on me
And threw me out into the cold wastes of solitude,
The rejection stamp bold and livid upon my marble brow
And babe, heartless to the core, you didn’t even say goodbye...
Just muttered false promises into the suffocating dark
Giving me false hope that this could be something more...
Huh – I should have seen the poisonous lies dripping from your forked tongue
But hindsight is always twenty/twenty they say –
And I wish I had never laid my poor adoring eyes on you
No matter how we try to create or imagine
Some sort of utopia within this pathetic world ?
Welcome to another day I heard the bleeping fool say
As they sailed away atop their tactical tortoise tombstone ships....
Ichneumonflies his mete's lap dog larvae enterprise; epileptic metempsychosis.
A barren paradise
Paper parachutes
Bleed, I before we
Except after deaths
String of light suctions
Screams captioned
Vocalizing muffles
Fleas flee
Parasites sight
Leaches beseech
Conventions plateau
Wonted into winter
Inept untaught cling
Polluting prospects
Tasting achilles
Oxidizing tongues
Clip urinating lips
Pressurizing knuckles
To freeze ends mean
Of inks soap
Washing pluto pores
Till burning gain
Is nothing lost
Samold verse
An inkling fresh
What's left to not do?
Peddle soup cans?
Underline oddities?
Misspell mutiny?
Lying in a sensible
Juxtaposition
A fruitful prison
GO
ALL THE WAY
ALL THE DAY
FROM HERE
TO THERE
AND BACK
FROM LEFT
TO RIGHT
UP OR DOWN
AROUND
AND AROUND
WE GO
AND
AT THE END
MY FRIEND
THE LIKELIHOOD
THAT WE
WILL ALL WIND UP
IN THE SAME
OLD SPOT
IS GOOD
The American Revolution describes the process whereby one George was replaced by another
Though Jack has climbed his beanstalk,
Saint George his dragon slain,
Gulch-Mammon lives on happily
And myriad is his train
His belly is enormous,
Yet full it ne'er will be.
The moment luncheon's over,
It's time to start high-tea.
Gulch-Mammon's teeth are millstones
Whose grindings rarely cease.
His slightest indigestion
Is menace to our peace.
And every time he sneezes,
Things worsen, though they're bad,
And every time he belches,
The Richter Scale goes mad.
Perchance he bored with eating,
He starts to smoke and fume.
You'll always know his whereabouts.
Just watch out for his plume.
His home is just palatial,
For gold is everywhere.
His rest-room seat is golden,
A thing most choice and rare.
No one knows for certain,
The income that he draws.
Whatever you are making,
It's vastly more than yours.
There on his vast plantations,
Some kine are thin, some fat,
And many laws and statutes
Did little to change that.
Are Jack and George just sleeping,
Or are they in his pay?
Whoso may know the answer
Seems disinclined to say.
The earth revolves around the sun
Yes, I know that all too well
In the night when I close my eyes
The universe become silent
All that I endured during the day
Becomes a distant memory
If only magic existed
I'd take shelter in my dreams forever
And if dreams do come true
I'd live the most wonderful life
It's strange how people behave
So many untold words belittling trust
Yet we cannot possibly reveal our true heart
Not when we do not understand it ourselves
And at the end of the day
The same old thing remains
The earth will keep revolving around the sun
My revolutionary heart smiled at its private joke:
“The poor can’t eat the rich because they’d gag and they’d choke
On toxins like guilt, cynism and greed,
Prozac and Botox – not quite what the poor need.”
But, the above-mentioned attitudes, I hear you demur,
Are found just as commonly amongst the poor.
Yes, I retort, it’s just as you say –
But they have better reasons to feel that way.
For those with soft beds, their futures assured,
Their needs taken care of, their investments secured,
No wolves near their doors, their faces unlined -
Surely these ones can simply afford to be kind?
For the poor each gesture has a real cost –
A loaf of bread given may mean a meal lost,
But the rich can donatecratefuls, it takes no nerve,
It is only a snack, a missed hors’d’oevre!
Everyday I come home so excited to talk to you
Until I remember that you don’t even give me the time of day
So here we go again
With the same old fights
Which lead to the same old headaches
Which lead to the typical broken hearts
And it’s not like it’s a monthly event
But more like a daily one
I WILL NOT DANCE BECAUSE IT’S THE SAME OLD SONG
Walk a high wire
Walk on the third rail
Walk on fire
And I’ll explain all this with one short tale
I thought for sure it wouldn’t get me
I would get it and I got it for sure
You wouldn’t recognize me if you met me
Because I’ve the wounds of a disease no one can cure
There’s about ten thousand things I’d rather do
Then to find and lose a lovely lady like you
I’d rather be caged with a tiger in the zoo
As slowly my disease progressed and grew
So here sit I on the subway steps a victim of what I sought
Never did I think this could happen to me and hurt so very many
Then by a thin tiny needle was I trapped and thusly caught
And no one would believe my story if I revealed my thoughts for a penny
If it was worth any money I’d throttle and choke a cute little rabbit
And when I see an old lady with a diamond I nab it
If a man in a wheel chair is counting his cash I just grab it
Because these are the things a diseased man does every day to sustain his dope habit
Being caught in a bear trap
Watch my brother die and I not care
Find hell with a well coursed map
But kick a habit like this I do not dare
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Can you remember? Any in the main.' Though its really so
Needed, like Los Angeles needed rain.' Rather than agendas.' Plans to make 'things so much better' normally
Human concocted..Dies the vision under the letter.' Just
Ink on parchment later paper, today ether.' Yet without
Good spirit.' They are just a mental bleather' either way
You might stand.? To left? To the right.? The flames of
Destrution roared away by day and by night.' And we all
Saw the harvest.' It was manifold charred black ruins.' Yet
The spotlight of media has moved.' To another feast of
Moral contention.? High words and conflict with many that
Reason..' There is rationale aplenty.' Anguished faces fill
Our screens.' While scheduled meetings and silver serviced
Dinners are arranged by maitre d's as the tables are changed' and their linen is laundered white and pristene.'
Yes all the vultures of cultures and of gains.' Are gathered close to where many victims are slain.' Yet There are Bodies of evidence.' And terms to live by,l.! its whats important ' we must understand.!! Theres action needed
Or many..Many innocents could die.! Again?? Then that theatre
Is over.' And another becokons, them come away ' i just see much
Promise of jam tomorrow.! Amidst much agony here today.'
Tradition rules all
The ways of society
Change, nowhere in sight