My tongue is tied
tinted scarlet windows
that I fly through
as I let my grasp go
from the guide meant for peace.
My chances decrease,
while my dreams do the opposite.
I mix up your silence
with the screams of my hope
to be saved.
I’m depraved
from the touch I long to feel again,
with your voice and face
engraved into my desire
for a better future.
This may seem like a love poem,
but it’s a glove
that holds a situation
a situation of no conversation.
I listened to silence for a sign.
Thinking your eyes said something
your mouth only did once.
My tongue is tied
as I wave goodbye
to the figure
society calls a crush.
MYSTAKES
Mystakes…Misteaks…Mistakes
made everywhere by everyone;
13. A misjudgment of memory in what was wrote down
3. A errror of sintax in computer coding
6. A falt in a car’s nackered engine
9. A discrepancy in a shop’s cash office readout
11. A problem with line memorisation as an actor perform onstage
8. A slip-up on a drunken night out
2. A inaccuracy of a burette measurement in a science exam
5. A mix-up of paytients in surgery operations
12. A long forgotten deadline for a university assignment
4. A blunder of five hundred doomed men charging into battle in the wrong direction
10. A miscalculation in clockwork chronometry
7. A lapse in concentration as a lunch order is given to the wrong customer in a cafe
14. A misjudgment of memory in what was wrote down
1. A oversight in gramma and speling in a poem
Mystakes made everywhere by
everyone but nobody learns from it.
Books have more words than you
They're well formulated and organized
They don't leave you on a clue
They know what they're going to say
But I don't
I mix up my words
Say things that are incorrect
My sentences seem to fly away like birds
I apologize for my rapidity
I say the first thing on my mind
Never let the other person have last
To much confusion and ragidity
I never seem to say the right thing
When I just listen
People seem to put me under their wing
When words aren't enough
Just stop saying stuff
In the hissing of the dunes
Time shifts slowly by
I can hear the timeless tune
Of our lullaby
Hear your voice and sing along
Trying to keep in tune
But you smile it means I’m wrong
I can’t even croon
Here on this lonesome shore
Comes a memory
With the wind across the floor
Withered leaves roll free
They mix up with sunny shades
Of the marram grass
Sound of the lapping waves
All that’s left of us..
To be frank;
I don't need to play prank,
For your unspoken words,
To fly to my heart's nest like birds.
To be serious;
I don't have to be hilarious,
If truly true love don't run smooth,
A mould morales that soothe.
To be candid;
You won't want to be stranded,
Before you pray my caress,
That for free I coalesce.
To be real;
You barely should plea,
When attention digress off gaze,
Your eyes' roses drive me so craze.
To be best friend;
It doesn't have to depend,
On your girlhood status,
For virginity don't determines SHE callous.
To be successful;
He needs not woman so colorful,
Rather caught amidst feelings & readiness,
For forever in spite whatever for liveliness.
To be cultured;
There is no need to place morals acquired,
On the possible retriever of mistake,
That had born enough good by its ache.
To make mix-up stop;
There is need to stoop,
Not that low,
But let him know.
He would leave home, seek adventure, and explore the wide world.
Would it be so hard to remember those who meant the most to him?
Not really, as they would be as close as a finger snap.
He would woo the most beautiful girl and make her his queen.
They would have a big family, and one day grow old together,
that is, until they had an acrimonious divorce.
He would live for his dreams and would fight for his ideals.
So many would be deeply influenced by his groundbreaking work,
specially the policyholders of his employer.
His story would inspire a host of ardent admirers
Hey, what is going on around here? Is there some kind of mix up?
It seems to me that I have been born into the wrong life.
When you reach the youth of old age,
Don't let actions go inactive.
Though life's compact, take space for you.
Repent not; repair, if you can
Face all !But don't deface your smile
Stop blaming but start accepting
Age is a number; keep engaged
Mix up and wipe out loneliness.
Place: 3rd
The type of abuse that happens on the inside
The victims receive inner scars they can hide
This is an abuse that can be done over and over
From someone that's angry, drunk or even sober
Suspects can vary from a mother to a friend
An emotionally abused heart isnt easy to mend
Its actually very hard for the abused to notice
To please their abuser is all they have in focus
They're told by others to leave the relationship
The mix up of love and abuse keeps a tight grip
Victims make up their minds to make an escape
The abuser causes them guilt some kind of way
The abused want to believe that there is hope
They are being held captive by imaginary ropes
Telling themselves that things would get better
Suspects of emotional abuse are quite clever
They make you think its love when its control
One minute talking sweet and the next very cold
A relationship like this leaves you very confused
Take it from someone like me who's been abused
It’s 2022, we’re in the final battle for the soul of the world.
There is no Indo-European root for soul,
the Greek and Germanic roots mean quick-moving, fleeting, mercurial.
I’d add evanescent, impermanent, ephemeral
disappearing, diminishing, dwindling
tenuous, brief, short-lived.
Whatever forever—that’s where we’ll be after WWIII.
World, home, think, breathe: man,
woman the vital force in man, the Anthropocene, men together
violence, virtue, virility. Also, werewolf.
War: to confuse, mix up, make worse.
The old are paying close attention but my sons ignore the thunder,
plate tectonics, gamma ray bursters and mortars on the Eurasian front.
Peace out—the end, limit, boundary, never to have been. So long,
sayonara, shalom, salaam. Take into eternity my hail and farewell.
mixed bag of misgivings misconstrued Mrs. Mulligan’s miscomprehensions misunderstood. Miserable Mrs. M. mistrusted Minnesota moderators’ misuse of mockery and mimicry. Monkeyshine mix up, monopolized moronic mood, a monumental mortiferous mistake made by many.
We two try to walk parallel,
Our relation not marital.
Unable to walk together
but we can't walk away either .
Don’t try to judge who is better.
as oil can't mix up with water.
Happy ending is not certain.
This chance may or may not happen.
Truly, we may not get along.
Yet not to separate life long.
Necessarily we feel thrill .
No commitment but making deal.
Facing clash at every corner
Useless to know, who is winner.
When I come, she is sure to go.
Yet my ego not to forego.
If oil goes on an explosion,
Water controls situation.
Yet we can't prepare 'Solution.'
Mixing yields just an‘Emulsion.
Our action and interaction
always end in contradiction .
Whatever, we cannot break up !
Somehow we are bound to tie up.
Don't give revenge
Such loyalty
So easily.
You'll get angry
With anyone
Without a cause.
Such course of time
You invite rage
Avoidable.
Never dispute
Angry to people
It's life mix up.
What you talking about Mister?
He asked after the man
said "Sea Her F". C+ Sea
Her + the woamn
F is F!
Chef man it's a joke.
That aint something worth
laughing over. What you want me
to say man: Sea he F?
We See oh, oh Kay!
Shout your mouth
and clean under the table.
I heard they were having
Seudoughmankie..You might
have over heard them speaking
but I know damn well you
weren't included
in such conversation.
Get the broom or the mop
and get back to work.
Why are you smiling : you think
it's funny don't you> Mister Waurttir
would like to hear about you
goofing around,
sir what is your name.
My name is Du Talon "Chef extraordinaire"
You had me going Mister Talon:
ah I mean Chef Du Talon!
I apoligize for the mix up!
I did that man joking around:
my wife told me I played around to much
that's why they booted me outta the
theather< I once was a
theatrical marvel,
the gift of music aand song!
Wanna hear me sing?
Five sprinkles of D plucked low
One dash of F and shuffle five Gs below
Mix up the rhythm
Until you feel the precision
Then add the key
Delicate and free
Repeat to your taste
No note is a waste
Now feel the blues
A meal so sweet and true.
Do not mix up evil with good
Spread truth is not spread hate
Spread hate is spread hate
Confounded person does mix up
Damn people do it in purpose
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