Blame Poems

Let Me Deserve It

You say that everything somehow come down to me,
that I’m reason for you wrongs, whatever they might be.
If, somehow, I disappeared then things would be all right,
I’ve been here from the start, won’t leave without a fight.

You’re speaking, and freaking,
a tantrum, so damn glum,
you think you’re explaining,
instead it’s just blaming.

Tell me how did we get

We cannot blame nature for melancholy of the autumn

We cannot blame nature for melancholy of the autumn
Leaves falling down the ground 
Decay to enrich the soil for feeds and the fertility of the forest

It's us isolated to our world of the human ignorance 
Excluding needs of the world that food feeds us with love of the flavors and colors 

And fantasy

Knitting is for

When I was Seventeen

When I was 17
I believed grief wore the face of death.
I thought it would come with wailing,
With wet cheeks and broken things. 

But when it came,
It made no sound.
No storm,
No crash,
No fire. 

It came like dust,
Settling in my chest,
In the hollow between my breaths,
In the quiet ache beneath my skin. 

It took me to the

Blame it on Fraternization

     My little sister loved to fraternize
     So her newfound curves she just had to hide
         Sis wore frumpy clothes
         Nothing was exposed
     Now, why were those

I dont blame her

I dont blame her for how she chose to survive 
It was never really her choice 
It was a forced setup 
A gun forced into our hand 
To absolve them of guilt
But they guide our hands 
On to the trigger 
And coax us into pulling it 
But was it really suicide 
When the world forced

This Side Of My Skin

I blame it for the pain 
As i try and understand its secrets
As it’s forms and folds wraps itself around me
Its supposed to protect the me from the world
But I cannot make sense of the curved markings painted across it
im supposed to take care of it
keep it smooth 
 perfect for the picture
but i am

Too Much

It’s not alright
                                                    

Halfway-Nowhere

Love, is not a moderate image to paint !
I have tread a serene parks walk with colourful abundant trees and beauteous scenes
Yet Love  :
“let me honour those who favour you their forte”!
Lustful young love and bitterness  in sweet red wine
Patience in a white steady car awaiting traffic to mind time
Everything coming together ,

It's Rude To Point

What's wrong with them Americuns
forever pointing fingers
always pointing guns
searching for someone to blame
never changes
stays the same
with 'Love thy neighbour,'
and 'Thou shalt not kill,'
religious to the core
hypocrites to boot
and what's more
shooting people children too
wondering why innocent die
and yet they haven't got a clue

Humiliation

I thought at your fiftieth we would make up,
I saved every drop to buy you a new Ford.
Your Royce is still sweet, but it needs a backup—
Not a Lincoln, a Mustang I could afford.

But you threw the keys back at me in fury,
You let your friends mock me with horrid laughter.
On our disputes, you turned

ghosted

there i sat at 1am
thinking about where i went wrong
as tears poured down my face
like an unearthly waterfall
i remember every conversation
trying though as to remember
why did they like me?
did they even truly like me?
or was it a game
only, someone has to put that blame on them
because i didn’t do anything wrong
or so i thought
yet i

Blame it on Hydra

It was a memorable evening, bright
with my beautiful, charming fiancé
(once my wretched, tormented heart's delight)
near the old village of Fatheringay.

Drawn by the lilt of a whispery voice,
we found ourselves in a dark, rustic pub.
An inner misgiving questioned our choice.
A man served drinks from a hook on a stub.
 
After imbibing a strange, bubbling brew,
we dawdled the full moon-lit countryside.
In

If You Are Love

O God of blistered stars and silence,
I crawl to You with blood beneath my nails—
Not theirs, my own.
I tore at shame like bark from skin,
But it rooted deeper still.

Do You see me now?
A cathedral of cracked marrow,
Where hallelujahs rot before they bloom—
I cannot pray without trembling.

The night — I dare not name it —
Stitched its

Disaster does not take the blame

Were you looking for me? Her diabolical dog Disaster asked.
She rolled her eyes.
Disaster knew she was looking for him.
She had called his name over twenty times.

Who tore open the cereal box? Why is it on the floor?
Disaster circled it but admitted nothing.
Who chewed up the new roll of toilet paper?
Disaster looked pointedly at his mistress’s

I Can’t Blame Anyone

I can't blame anyone, not even the one you love
I'm sure you both have stories to fill pages with—
about how you met and fell for each other
I do not have the right to claim you,
so the question of hate seems outrageous
My nights are haunted by the dead and the living
You are a beacon I always

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