Mature Poems

Good Man

Generous
Observant
Outgoing
Decent

Mature
Accommodating
Nurturing

Too Much

It’s not alright
                                                    

The Maturation of Soulful Thoughts II

Buried in the depths of my soul is the unrealized hope of a full explanation
Covered over by shovels full of doubt and thoughts regressed
Brilliance which lost its edge from lack of use lies in a state of degradation

Can hope with its own will stir once again the creative mind
Bringing forth seeds of thoughts that demand

Reflections of the Past, Visions of the Future

I thought this noxious pain would abandon my agonized heart after a while
I thought if I could write better it would ease on me 
Maybe my tacks were wrong,
I couldn't find my way to exist, still a character of a juvenile
They mocked my will, my reasons, my need to smile
No matter how old, never will

Where Did All The Time Go?

Where did all the time go?
It feels like yesterday
When we ran through the sunflower fields
And it feels like tomorrow
When we lose all the feelings of youth

Where did all the time go?
Just last night we raised our glasses to the skies
And drank to new beginnings
In hopes of starting anew and change
But tomorrow knocked on our doors
And

Sexual Fustration

What can I do?
To fight these urges
In my adult life, I have no luck
No luck with love
But my body needs to 
But I can't disappoint God
Nor give Satan the power
So what can I do
To fullfill my Sexual desire
The beating in my chest
the urge to rub a womans breast
and rubbing her feet would also be best
I

Bone and Bread

Version One:

A table shared,
wood smoothed by stories,
hands marked by the land,
holding not to let go,
but to hold dear—
crumb and crust, life flourishing between us.

Not to quiet hunger,
but to relish, pressed in hands,
the warmth of something earned,
and shared.

Version Two:

A table shared,
wood worn soft by stories,
hands touched by the soil,
holding not to part,
but to cherish—
crumb and crust,

Peach Pity Party

Welcome to my peach pity party
It’s my own fault it’s started
Without music I so lavender love
I find my pen more and piano not enough

I have ambitions and I notice now
That time is ticking winding down
I’m sure to die poor and unknown 
I’m ok with that but dreams are blown

Dreams of leaving earth better than it

IMMATURE? NO, I'M MATURE

Maturity is something which
Has come and gone with me.
I am a man - but then can be
A boy again, you see.
Sometimes, I can set aside
My adult obligations...
Trading them for short-lived fun
In said sad celebrations.

Something deep and within me
Is triggered in my mind.
This, I ask - is what I seek
In life so hard to find?
Maybe so,

Chasening Truths

Baby birds
Tucked in warm pew-nests
Mouths agape to catch 
masticated lies
Rather than growing
Mature enough to bake
The bread of life

Frightened animals
Leaving blinders on
So our blind leader
We can trust and believe 
Rather than being 
brave enough to look
At truths before unseen


Scorpion stung prey
Backbones turning to mush
With the poison venom of
What we want to hear
Rather than standing strong in
The

Eagerness

Eagerness 
*******************************************************
     The harness digs into tender, wounded flesh.  
Growth has exceeded our bonds and makes them uncomfortable…painful. 
     Only then do we notice, realize, the bit in our mouth.
 Friction inducing sores around raw, skinless lips. 
Only then do we see the driving reins that

Breathing

I’m scared of what life has in store
But I’m also excited to see what it is.
Back in 2021 I wanted to end it all
I was ready to forfeit this race. 

It was always day but 
I chose to not see the light.
Whenever it became night 
I kept wishing for sunrise
 
I use to thought I

30th of November

This 30th of November, 
I can be dragged down by 
   men
that I loved. And they feel no guilty 
   I’m caged in maturity. 

A little girl tugs my fuchsia leg-split 
“Tear it or tear down”. 
     Fear 
of getting lost 
Neverland 
with a waggish Peter Pan

For Mature Only

Make election sure
Heaven are not for babies,
But pure and mature.

Gnarled But Mature

Aged,gnarled rooted in him
Fallen,but not cast off are you

As wild boughs engrafted thereto
Fallen,but not cast off are you

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