My poems are like a river,
It may seem light and clear but if you get
through the lines then it will take you
to the depths of it.
I know they might seem unprofessional and
I would agree with that concurrently.
I have made it too lightly with the words
that one could read with a smile—
called the newborn baby,
Could recite before their daddies
and mummies.
I believe they would write
poetry of their own unspoken
thoughts before entering
their adult life and leave
the Juvenile mind behind,
because not everyone is
will to enjoy the juvenile life
through the poetic lines.
I'm at the entrance of you,
and I don't know what to do.
I don't know where to begin
to try to find my way in
without making a disqualifying miscue.
Being handsome alone is not important. Having talent is. Quote by poet.
Bewitched, her fingers flew,
keys pressed, sound vibrated
song sang assonance in perfect pitch.
He tried, he fumbled,
closed his ears, a cacophony of
vulgar barbarism. He remembered standing up
disgusted, turning, looking in a mirror,
a nauseous narcissus.
He could not help but admire
his sapphire eyes,
the clean, well-shaved chin,
his perfect figure...
all useless, for he lacked
her talent, her special gift,
her poise;
but not her face
where ugliness triumphed.
It was then, alas, that he felt
the death of music in his soul.
Passion with the inept
Virtuous to respect
All wish to expect
As I walk to the valley of my own creation
A mist forms to hide my deviation
I frolic to my expectations
And expect the best sensations
I will myself to feel wanting
I stay still to feel I'm haunting
Can you see me? Can you hear me?
My suffering I'm flaunting
The journey of life is daunting.
My ego's appetite wanting
If a salesperson’s nice but inept,
His promises rarely are kept.
Though true skills he may lack,
He says, “I’ve got your back”
So you think at his job he’s adept.
But whatever he told you was fake,
For he lied or just made a mistake.
Thus your needs won’t be met
Though you thought all was set;
New arrangements you might have to make.
When I think of it, maybe it’s best
As experience seems to suggest,
To complete any deal
With one lacking appeal
But whose help doesn’t make you feel stressed.
Brain Drain
No Pain
Feel Strain
No Gain
Brain Dead
Empty Head
Lost Thread
Softly Tread
Brain Old
Gone Cold
Nothing Told
On Hold
often am inept
which is when old age crept
died than slept and slept
Jim Horn
Trump Prepared for Being Inept
Trump had prepared for being inept,
Either did rest or he slept and slept;
An example poor,
When he did snore;
Being bother to everyone on he kept.
Jim Horn
Trump Prepped for Being Inept
We think it happened while Trump slept;
Had appeared like he was being prepped;
Also contained,
And detained;
Could learn how to be completely inept.
Jim Horn
Totally Inept
Only those who are totally inept,
Failure never willing to accept,
And if hysteric,
Must be cleric,
Revealing secrets once well kept.
Jim Horn
Intercept Being Inept
What we all did do was crept and crept,
And then pretty soon we would intercept;
Some might miss,
When in Congress;
Each person who is ignorant and inept.
Amazing how I keep coming up with
all of my poems. TV news are the
big instigators.
Jim Horn
Wake up man!
Don't you want to be
all alone,
Find yourself
withered in denial,
Don't you have to be
by yourself,
on your own,
Broke down inside it's
what you wanted,
Believing in nothing
lifeless
useless,
Inept,
So worthless
Find your way
Once again!
Don't you see it?
You're nothing,
Empty,
Vacant!
Can't you feel it?
You're hated,
Dismissed!
Pointed at
frowned upon
looked down at,
Forgotten!
Stricken from memory
left unspoken!
Inept,
So worthless
on your way!
Leave me alone
Leave me alone
Leave me alone!
Now Leave Me Alone!
INEPT PLAGIARIST
I rote this little peom last week
See what you think and take a peak
Swear to God it’s all my own work
Never took a word from any other peot jerk
I wander lonely as a balloon
That floated on high o’er vales and burst
All at once I see the moon
A mostly golden round thing first.
Beside the lake beneath the trees
My dog sits down to scratch his fleas
Continuously as they start to climb
And itch him badly while he plays
They stretch in never ending line
Along the margins of the bays.
Ten thousand see I at a glance
Biting his head and making him dance
Nude, she stood alone in a copse of trees
Brine taste of sea air brushing her skin
Distracted mind, thinking of him
Should not be here, in this place
Circle glows somber green
A single misstep
Misspoken word
Tentacles
Drag her
Down
I could write a thousand words
and still fail to capture your
absolute beauty.
A thousand verses of sublime
rhyme and fall short of the
intent of my love for you.
A thousand dreams in the
glittering of stars, all is
nought to where you take
me.
And the love song that I write
would only emulate the
beating of this heart, a long
slow pulse of absence.
I take the hand of my muse
in thought and feeling, ever
to caress that day when I
first said I loved you.
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