Long Off the deep end Poems
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Schizophrenic tendencies
Stealing useless sh*t like a kleptomaniacal king
Laughing and tip toeing to the closet
While listening to the faucet drip
Freaking out my third eye blinking stunting your growth with a lean
Heavy petting in front of you
Sucks to think about you and actually think that I was thinking about letting you view
Drama setting developing characters steady sweating in a church corridor and sat down on the pew
Confessed a few horror stories and placed the priest in a matrix
Intelligently designed inside this hell's hatred
He cried and prayed as I snatched his soul and vaped it
There's no escapaping this
I'm being blamed framed about to get arrested in vain while they tape it
Look Mom I made it!
Walk a mile in my ASICS
Basic training
No negotiations
Guilt trippin on my laces
Remembered my cape and draped it over dead friends that became time wasted
Man I should've saved them
They always told me to go home
So I jumped off the deep end and waited
I'll eat you like a four course meal prepared and plated
I'm ing hungry
Spitting on you in front of me with a toxic venom developing a tongue disease
Better start to run from me
As I lunge with hands clung to a machete and swung at you hung from a tree
This sh*t is fun f*cking dumb b*tch punch you in the face and munched your c*nt for free
The f*ck you want from me?
Dan, drum roll please
Sum it up punch drunk stole your b*tch at the lunch truck five fingers linger the flavor of the week
Swinging at a country singer smiling inside my violent dream
Means my demons fire breathing heaving the heat
Call me the pretty b*tch leave your ass in the urn with burns from the third degree
Half cocked leaning against the wall throwing up queasy feelings mixed drinks 1,2, and 3
F*ck you and f*ck me then leave
Fall on your way out like that autumn leaf
Trippin on the broken sidewalk cracked under your feet
Deep sleep woke the weak dreams screaming for tweak
Leaped over your jeep and beat you with the meat cleaver stashed under the seat
Freaking the out inside an asylum for three weeks
Jeez it's freezing my body’s even seizing with heavy breathing strapped in a straight jacket teething
Lost in a controlled environment where everything that seems to be or seeming has no f*cking meaning
SMOKERINGS
If she wanted to stay he would make her a place,
for he loves ev'rything that she is,
and he'd willingly give all the world and the stars
for her love--if they only were his.
But he likes it alone, and in silence he knows,
if he wants, he can talk to the moon,
or hear voices at bars, or the children he loves,
and if wanting to go--he'll go soon.
Or to stay if he choose, for the night is still young,
but she's there, and he's wanting to say
all the words in his heart--but he's holding them back
and the night is much colder than day.
So he goes to someone who's no danger to ways
though he smiles, he is really not there
and he wants to forget, but he wants to live on,
if she stays or she goes, he will care.
And the one he is with sees the love in his eyes,
and she knows it's not hers anyway,
but the ones' who was late, and the one who will go,
and the one he will never let stay.
If he asks and she stays, he'll go off the deep end,
and he knows she loves silence--as he;
and she stays for a while, til the silence is deep,
and the end is the end that must be.
But she looks at the floor when he wants her to see,
and she goes when he wants her to stay,
but the words are not there, and he watches her go,
with the thought that it must be this way,
but he smiles in his heart--for he's known her at least,
and he's loved--and has found love is good,
and the end that he feared, he prevented in life,
though he wonders if he ever should.
Though the journey is long--he'll look back on her face,
and he'll think, many times, there it goes!
he will always regret; for it's always alive,
she is part of his life, and he knows.
All the others who see--feel the same for their own,
and they wonder why he doesn't try,
but it's smokerings they see; or a bird in their hand
that is wanting to fade in the sky.
And the sky will embrace ev'rything in the end,
all the things that we see are a mask,
and the smokerings that fade to the will of the sky
are in love--and the sky didn't ask.
© Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Smoke Rings
If she wanted to stay he would make her a place,
for he loves ev'rything that she is,
and he'd willingly give all the world and the stars
for her love--if they only were his.
But he likes it alone, and in silence he knows,
if he wants, he can talk to the moon,
or hear voices at bars, or the children he loves,
and if wanting to go--he'll go soon.
Or to stay if he choose, for the night is still young,
but she's there, and he's wanting to say
all the words in his heart--but he's holding them back
and the night is much colder than day.
So he goes to someone who's no danger to ways
though he smiles, he is really not there
and he wants to forget, but he wants to live on,
if she stays or she goes, he will care.
And the one he is with, sees the love in his eyes,
and she knows it's not hers anyway,
but the ones' who was late, and the one who will go,
and the one he will never let stay.
If he asks and she stays, he'll go off the deep end,
and he knows she loves silence--as he;
and she stays for a while, til the silence is deep,
and the end is the end that must be.
But she looks at the floor when he wants her to see,
and she goes when he wants her to stay,
but the words are not there, and he watches her go,
with the thought that it must be this way,
but he smiles in his heart--for he's known her at least,
and he's loved--and has found love is good,
and the end that he feared, he prevented in life,
though he wonders if he ever should.
And the journey is long--he'll look back on her face,
and he'll think, many times, there it goes!
and he'll always regret; for it's always alive,
and she's part of his life, and he knows.
And the others who see--feel the same for their own,
and they wonder why he doesn't try,
but it's smoke rings they see; or a bird in their hand
that is wanting to fade in the sky.
And the sky will embrace ev'rything in the end,
and the things that we see are a mask,
and the smoke rings that fade to the will of the sky
are in love--and the sky didn't ask.
I wonder who I am sometimes, what seems to be a universal phenomenon. As everyone remains looking to be someone other than themselves, because those who are themselves are persecuted and dreams hung on the cross by society.
But as I wonder the colorful atmosphere of those around me tend to judgingly remind me exactly who I am and what I’m capable of accomplishing.
Because they assume before they even get the chance to know me, my story, why I act, talk, or dress different, why I smell another fragrance, perceive, taste, and feel the world inversely.
Under my skin they shoot before they ask, a trigger finger itching as the deadly explosion blast piercing the body of another innocent soul. Slavery is illegal now but we still hang.
Hang pictures up of loved ones taken through an unjust act, if you listen closely you can still hear the sound of invisible shackles as I walk and fall to my death…click clack, clic clac, click…a heart beating but dead now the heart no longer beats…
Under my skin if I put my hoodie up I might as well wear a mask, to hide the sinister agenda people assume I carry. Sometimes I just want some shade to block out all the negative rain on a summer day.
And when I succeed they assume I’m cheating, because my plateau has no high point or high ground. I’m a flat line, dead to success, and they put me here.
It’s a little misleading when all your hard work just falls off the deep end, because they look at you as if you have a red hand or you’re the bandit.
And if I bought it I could never own it because under my skin without acting I’ve already sinned.
How can you win when you can’t control the end?
All I can say is never stop praying and keep grinding until the end, because God controls the future. So never let someone else control you through “You cant’s or you’ll Nevers.”
P.S. I am black lives, THIS IS JUST A POST SCRIPT.
There once lived three devoted and wonderful pastors,
who labored diligently to build and maintain three
great churches*.
One pastor served The First Church of The Holy Spirit
in the city of Aston, Tn. The second pastor labored
at The First Holiness Church in Panhandle, Fl. Pastor
number three shepherded The First Center of Power
Church in Panhandle, Tx.
Each of these pastors was well trained and sincere
in their pursuit of God and in their desire to faithfully
lead their flock. In addition to their sincerity, there
were two other things that they shared in common.
They were all evangelical, and believed that The
Holy Spirit lived inside of the church of God on earth.
However, deep inside and behind their holy mask was
what some Christians called, 'a latent fear of falling
off the deep end'.
Each pastor wanted to fly and teach their people
how to do the same. But deep inside, they themselves
had a fear of flying, not in airplanes, but in flights conducted
by The Holy Spirit, because they worried about where The
Holy Spirit would take them. This dilemma weighed so heavily
upon them that they began to question their own calling. They
wondered if they were called to be 'pilots' aided by The Holy Spirit,
or commissioned to be 'controllers' observing and directing traffic.
090321PS
*Fiction
Foreword: My regular radio station recently
held a phone in show on the subject of
Veganism... The following was inspired by
some of the more colourful callers.
Purely for fun, no maliçe intended... Your Honour
Vegans, Damned Vegans
He sneered when he called me an animal
He frowned when he called me a cannibal
He called me a killer and said I’m misguided
I shouldn’t eat meat because HE had decided
His pompous decision was so single minded
I showed him my fist... the fight was one sided
For pulses and beans were all he had eaten
So one little tap and the fellow was beaten
I looked in the mirror and made a big grin
Examined my mouth and the canines therein
For tearing up meat, we got them in pairs
Was that evolution or the big man upstairs
Why ever we got them, got them we did
Some people file them or keep them well hid
If your God designed them then that’s problem solved
Unless you deny the way you’ve evolved
If there was a vote which the vegans then won
There’d be a surplus, I hope they have fun
When we give all the vegans their very own gun
To shoot all the cows, it would need to be done
The chicken, the turkey and also the sheep
Superfluous now, so no need to keep
Thanks to the vegans they’ll all come a cropper
I hope that those vegans are good with a chopper
But just to show willing I thought I might try it
I put myself on a strict vegan diet
A vegan for breakfast, a vegan for lunch
A vegan whenever I fancy a munch
But one irate vegan went off the deep end
He seemed a bit miffed that I’d eaten his friend
But quitting my diet soon silenced his moans
I’ve stopped eating vegans... too many bones
My life is playing out on the movie screen
And I'm watching from the front row
Trying not to scream
Holding back tears
and trying not to hydraulic press my grinding teeth
into my plato gums while cowering
What good is inspiration
If you know it's just gonna fade into oblivion?
I must be watching in 3-D
‘cause the overwhelming grief jumped out at me!
So badass to say "I'm taking this to the grave!"
But all you had was a tissue in hand
And one marvelously disappointing revenge plan
And that makes two things that won't see the light of day anymore
Were you leading the prayer
Or was it your anger?
Were you shoveling the dirt,
Or were your fingers, but as a sacrifice counter?
Trying not to fracture but you're made of broken porcelain and promises
My biggest letdown;
Only seeing the cracks once I already caved in
Sagacious ships seldom cross the finish line
When all they're seeing are reflections and mercurial skylines
It's not a party until the limo arrives
And I made a promise to never be late,
But it’s not a party if everyone shows up on time
I might have manufactured this resistance
But I'm no engineer
I follow trails to find own adaptive ways
To rebuild, relive, and reprogram
You're crashing but you're not a sedan
More like a train that's gone off the rails
Or a aquaphobe that's gone off the deep end
You’re crashing but you’re no heart rate monitor
Here’s to our unspoken oaths of hoping we’re on the same page,
Let alone the same chapter
Pests at every gutter bend, but best friends until we get girlfriends
I only want to ease your capricious mind
Lets rebuild, reapproach, and definitely reprogram
I want to be held right now.... Idk i just feel so sad and strange, and need it now please help me I cant see myself anymore. I feel like a doll that gets played with, and later being thrown aside when her face is melted, her legs are torn, head decapatated. I'm a wreck, a disater, a fault and cant fix it i need help before im am forced to fall off the deep end of this hole that i am digging my lowered self esteem in *staring at the sky looking up to the impossible*. Please I just cant see who i am anymore; look at what I have done to my body, my heart, and my soul they are scared with deceit and pain. I want to be held so badly, but theres noone there to hold me i feel so cold and helpless. God help me, someone help me my life is decaying, my body used, my mind shattered, my spirit gone, my vision is blurry i cant see i cant not feel i cant not breathe. The cords of wire are strangling my neck gushing the black blood of my sins and impurites i used myself ,played myself, and I am the fool! Someone anyone please o god please help me my entire being is screaming, but it cant be heard my voice is crushing and is everything is fading awayg. My existance is flaking, my face ages through out time and space until I become nothing calm because I am not alone I am nothing, but I am everything now I cant be hurt or be in any pain any longer.
the house is gorgeous
perfect
for a lonely like me
no one around to
force me to talk
finally
peace and quiet
i have moved in my furniture
situated myself into my new life
time to live
my life
finally
days pass
before he shows up
“Do you know where Frank
is?”
he asked
he was distraught
but before I could answer
he left
sobbing
“Frank,
Frank…”
who was he?
the next day he returned
did the same thing
this went on for
weeks –
the same thing every day –
before I called the landlord
“Oh I forgot to mention
James.
Poor man.
completely mental
he is.
he and Frank lived there
for several years
Frank was ill
James was too,
but not in the same way
they were an item
I believe
Frank died
James went off the deep end
as if Frank was the only reason
he could
stay sane
if James is bothering you
you could send him to
the hospital
he probably needs it
but I never
had the heart
to put him
there”
we hang up
there’s a knock at my door
again
same time every day
he looks more distant today
detached
“hello James”
he looks surprised
mutters something
that could be
hello
“come inside”
he shuffles in
defeated
depressed
and all I can think is
Poor man.
Melania spotted a louse
And caught a cab home sans her spouse
When Barron asked, "Why?"
She said with a sigh,
"Your father is in the dog house!"
Well, Ivanka soon learned the score
And despatched a nurse to the door
Nurse said, "There's a nut
Who barks like a mutt;
And groped me like I was an whore!"
Well, Ivanka's heart was so glad
For she knew that nut was her dad
She said, "Never fear
My dad's somewhat qu*eer;
His manners are ever so bad!"
Melania went out on the lawn
Exactly where Donald had gone
She called for a scoop
To pick up the poop
That Sessions had left and stepped on
Donald thought he'd bark out a tweet
Then he saw Melania's feet
He said, "Its a pity
That you feel so shi*ty
But the nurse has got something sweet."
Melania could smell a rat
And looked where the nurse had just sat
It seems a quick cuddle
Had left a wet puddle
Proving Donald had got it down Pat
Melania noticed a trend
Where Donald went off the deep end
So she could surmise
The President lies
And on that she could always depend