I go back to Pinterest because why wouldn't I.
It's addictive and gives me something to do I won't even lie.
I scroll and click and scroll and click once more.
It's hard to put down because it keeps my mind in control.
There's rings, clothes, books, and most importantly help for me.
I can relate a little too much to some of the posts and that's key
For me to come back I need to want, to CRAVE the feed
Everyday I open it and everyday I feel my hate for myself grow and my love for Pinterest turn into need.
It makes me happy. I know it's confusing but that's where my heart settled
I lay in my bed looking at these people who I wish I was and I meddle
I meddle with my mind but also my body. But I can't be them and I never will be and I come to term
I've thought that I hate this app but I love it because it can be good, i've learned
It's fun, nice, addictive, and amazing just don't scroll too deep or you'll get beat
I've had too much experience diving too deep and that's a fact
But I just CAN'T stop going back!
*sometimes
the people who tell me I am somebody
are the ones who make me feel like nobody.*
--your lies will always lie still and stiff like the corpse inside me you created.
It will not rot
It will not decay.
how do you steal the life you never gave me?
I've lived and died many times already.
I am immune to my immortality
It smells like ice.
It tastes like void.
It runs on crude and sour etiquette.
It's so esoteric naturally
that me myself is unnatural.
Do not play me with poison
You are not ivy or oak
trust me, learn your chemicals
We are toxins, take caution
See luck in my state of shock.
And so be it, I refuse
to suffer all alone another time
(again and again)
because that corpse you created will never move
nor will i ever forget.
I will not rot.
I will not decay.
Never meddle with the dead.
March9th2023
Set your pace to grace,
A metamorphosis is taking place,
Changing the view on space,
Breaking the barrier we face,
We evolve the human race,
The chase has begun,
Embrace the new season,
The reason you're here,
Don't run from fear,
That's the clear sign,
You're aligned,
Designing your destination,
Destiny truly a narration,
Use your imagination,
The creation station,
Always in transformation,
As information builds the new,
On top of what you already knew,
The view becoming askew,
Queuing in change,
Rearranging the projection,
To fit the current perception,
The conception of a new way to be,
Seeing you in every body,
Muddy water starts to settle,
As we meddle with what's around,
Learning to ground our vessel,
Nestled safely in place,
Erasing an old way of being,
Seeing the change coming soon,
I've already changed my tune,
An opportunity to set the pace,
With forgiveness and grace.
Tears, they flow as giddy gushing streams,
and meddle with our facile sense of joy,
seamlessly they interface cod emotions,
whirlpool laughter smothers trite elation,
smirking bogus rivulet, weeping willow branch,
to that toxic ocean known as hollow mirth
Dig only until your fingers can reach,
don't fall face down into the ground,
you're not soil yet
Extend your hands only until warmth is still home,
don't deplete yourself of what you give,
even stars die a cold death
Build your fences only until their faces are friends'
don't reach for the sun,
you'll only burn yourself
Sing to the gods only until your voice is air
don't meddle with hands
religion isn't only yours to reclaim
Guard your walls only until the soldiers are rivals
don't stick your guns at every gate
not all neighbors are villains
Count the waves only until the sea waves back
don't wait for the sun to sink
your boat is holed of your own feet
Rush back home on more than weekends
don't fit love into tight routines,
time doesn't entertain belated guests
Love until your bones are soil
don't worry about bills and gods
humane is the best you can.
Time sat with her antinomic daughters two :
Destiny the elder, tall, fastidious and hard ;
And Luck, the merry, playful conjuring guard
Who averts the pre-ordained, out of the blue
The old lady crocheting together events odd ,
Twisting her head ,opened up the dispute :
'Why need you meddle with and transmute
'All that ensues along Fate's heavy, firm plod
Considering the plight on the marked path ,
"Mom " , said the other with a wry smile
" I let my picks find the vicissitudes wile
"That favour the brave who bear Life's wrath".
Thus went the dialectic , neither did concede ;
Striking an attitude, blurted the one serious ,
That every act has its effect due and various ;
The other winked and shrugged, to plead :
Hope induces vigour in crisis and breakdown
As morbid defeat glides like an avalanche ,
And committed strife finds enlivening chance
If death is certain , survival is winner's crown .
Come and paint me naked and bare
and meddle with the joy and sorrow that I bear,
come and paint my dignity
and touch the soft spot of my sanity
deliver the wellspring of life
and help me roll the winning dice.
Come and splash your paint all over me
and rub the texture into the canvas
and highlight the delicate lines
that meet beyond the mountainous sky
and watch the paint drips
Come and brush my face with your fine brush
and make a new portrait of me
just paint me the way you see me
and don’t hold back the mystery
there is a detail in everyone that
nobody can understand, it takes
a true artist to find it
and a master painter to highlight it
Come and paint my dreams and
Reveal the final scene.
Paint my soul and spirit
and love as nature reveals it
paint my body with your charm
And shake the dust off of my feet
And when you done hang it on the wall
And listen to my heart beat
Paint me in my natural self
Paint my before you go to bed
And when you have nothing to do
just paint me!
What lay’s buried in my memory
Is my memory sometimes lies
Bloody Mary quite contrary
The canary quickly dies
Now the monkey’s in the middle
You know some monkeys don’t mean jack
Only if you meddle with a monkey
With a monkey on your back
You’re all set on settling changes
And the hope that change can bring
But if that change don’t change the outcome
Then that change won’t change a thing
If the proof is in the pudding
Then I’m the pudding in the proof
When your output starts inputting
Is when your heart pumps out the truth
~Billy Hitz~
His dead body was lying on the sand.
Frigid, frigid waves appeared to bite his lips.
His pulse and breath stopped as he left his land.
The motion seemed to shake his fingertips.
His mother's wish was to find a land far from war.
A trip that happens at night on the open sea.
He stumbled like a fish amid the chaos and roar.
As the arms that were holding him set him free.
If you snap my way or meddle with me once,
This is what you do at the risk of your own life.
My image of calm and kindness is rather false.
I've witnessed enough heartbreak and strife.
A photo went across the world as a waste of time.
If it went over well, it did little to quell the crime.
Written: May 27, 2023
Written on February 09, 2015 11:05PM
The girl wanted to fall in love truly madly deeply with someone
She wanted to held hands and watch the sunset
She wanted to go on a picnic
She wanted the surprises and to go on adventures
She wanted the hugs and the kisses
But right now, is not the right time
For It can't be right now
For It is against all the odds
She can't be with him right now
Will the man understand?
For if he meddle with time
Hearts and souls will stumble in agony
Yes, the girl's falling but things not meant to happen yet
So please, don't take advantage of the girls' weakness
Don't take advantage of her heart
Please, don't take her heart too easily
Because...
The girl wanted to fall in love, but it can be right now
So the girl said to the man,
"The first poem was for you. Here's my second. Now, can you wait for the next poem?"
I have to teach my heart not to pine for things it cannot have.
I will be content and no longer toil and pine for love.
Love.
Something that never found me, but in many ways moves me at my core.
Love
My greatest hope since childhood.
It is a candle burning ever so slightly, but I must lick my fingertips and pinch the flame.
And my heart yearns for it, but I must teach my heart to let go.
It must die and my heart must go on without it.
And my mind must meddle with the grief of letting it die.
But my heart will move on.
And I will be content.
I must tell my heart to be content and no longer toil and pine for love.
Life is pleasurable,
If you understand it.
It's miserable,
If you misread it.
Mind your own questionnaires;
Don't meddle with others’ affairs.
Life is a difficult riddle,
Solve it with a tune on your fiddle.
Life is a progressive vehicle,
It goes about the way you drive it.
Make not your journey so critical;
Be cautious at every bit.
Vices can make a man quite mean;
Life is precious, keep it evergreen.
To be born a man, is itself a boon;
Hope you come to senses soon…
Brian Strand July 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 08-07-2021
Place: 1st
Cruel fate does meddle with the hands on the clock
Seizing fate and destroying ambition.
Such simple, yet effective manipulation
Forcing all from cradle to grave,
under the direction of destiny's frail hands
and on such rare occasion
that luck may just prevail
by even minute chances do the grains of time repair
and its tedious cycle starts anew
Such ferocity in the bindings of our beings
That we cannot grasp an understanding of life and its makings
Does darkness dare enthrall us all at the end of this long journey
Into light I was born from darkness and mystery
Into light I'll descend from darkness and misery
Who are we to question the secretive bonds behind it all
Merely pawns we are placed to play our parts
Disappearing through deaths dark door at the end of our show
Ever whispering
Never heard
Forever more
Your actions appear like a coup
An M O for monsters like you
Elections are fair
And this takeover scare
Your statement to voters “F U”
Comment: Is it Hitler or just a KGB agent? The electoral college works in his favor normally (he wins even with less than a majority of the popular vote), but now he even has to try to meddle with it to stay in power. With the channeled nature of news, he is getting away with this sick behavior. Time to say what it is and who he really is--the antichrist (and I don't believe in that stuff)!
They said they would do it
And done it they did,
But little they know
They’ve lifted the lid.
The kettle is boiling,
The heat never more,
I’m ready and waiting
To even the score.
Revenge is my hammer,
My words knives to throw,
Those dithering fools
They’ll reap what they sow.
Pelosi’s a patsy,
So devious and mean,
But Schiff’s the real loser,
I’ll make that toad scream.
Impeach me for what,
Merely a ploy,
A political stunt
To maim and destroy.
Little they realize
Those bumbling schemers,
The country’s aware
They’re delusional dreamers.
The Senate’s my tool
To dismantle this thing
And then mark my words,
I’ll make their ears ring.
They meddle with me
At their peril and grief,
Their victory dance
Pathetic and brief.
This 45th President,
So great and so strong,
Will rule yet a while,
For sure four years long.
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