I think the language of dating tends to be intentionally overeducated, because modern romance often requires forensic attention to fragments: eye movements, direct response or response delay and strategic silence.
The term ‘boyfriend’ is a deliberate allocation of trust.
Though we kiss for control with charming nonchalance,
it’s gritty and everyday, not decorative companionship.
He’s seen my worst screenshots
On another note..
I love staying up late at morning
I have vampire tendencies
that’s my frequency
Should I start to turn in earlier
or wait for school to begin
I’m that kind of worrier
that’s the way my world spins
.
.
A song for this:
Deny by La Sécurité
Leaders are worshiped,
Armies are much hailed,
Weapons are much praised,
And innocent creatures are,
Killed in the streets, in the
Homes, while they are working,
While they are sleeping,
The children's heart full of,
Terror, they are told, we are,
Worrier, we win the war,
But who tell the preacher,
Wars cant not be won, and
No way, they can be win,
Both side loose, both side
Destroyed, citizen are killed,
Here and citizen are killed,
There, Winners are those,
Who don’t care, for those,
Their whim must be roar,
Over the dead bodies of,
Innocents, the trees, the birds,
The air, the water, the animals,
The leaders never die in war,
They have power supernatural,
As a common man is taught,
To remain faithful to system,
To praise the ways of system,
To speak up to limits of system,
To praise the armies, to bow to
Money hoarders.
But all are the gestures inherited
Desire of creatures to destroy
Themselves,
Humanity seems tired of living,
Perhaps plans for departing,
And submerge in nothingness,
Bricklayer
No crime in hard work.
I earned it.
Always worth it.
I’m a bricklayer.
Stack the weights.
Never show up late.
Put on the music.
Get to work.
Don’t put down the weights.
Feed the machine.
How bad do you want it?
No going back.
Born to starve.
Hungary for more.
Be a warrior.
I’m a bricklayer.
Go to battle.
Show the anger.
Be a worrier.
Why worry about what the future brings?
Tomorrow's just another day, they say,
No need to pout, and pule, and pine away.
Instead, I'll relish this day's offerings,
Anticipate tomorrow's profferings,
And strive to keep all gloomy thoughts at bay,
And let the future bring me come what may.
With fortitude I'll weather fortune's stings.
I may not always know the world's largesse,
But sure's the sun keeps rising and setting,
And sure's the world continues its spinning,
Worry is no way out of hopelessness.
A chance to renew, the past forgetting,
Each day's reward is a new beginning.
Author's note: I'm not by nature a worrier, but I do try to build on the past and plan for the future.
Nancy was a professional worrier, afraid of what the wind might be bringing
She worried the oak tree limb might fall down while we were swinging
She feared that if she stopped holding the ceiling, it would fall to the floor.
I would tell you other stories, but I fear I might bore you if I told you anymore.
She never has fun, cannot relax and live any kind of life.
This was said by a man who could not make her his wife.
Before I became a worrier, a rebel, a Spartacus:
I remember listening to an orator on a city bus:
he criticized and enraged some arrogant characters;
he shouted harsh words to the deceiving charlatans,
exposing themselves as hallowed saints in a niche,
when they should have been thrown into a ditch!
Before I attempted to please others,
I realized how naive I was to offer praises:
I had one God to serve, not several gods
who took the appearance of pure divinity;
they had a shining halo over their heads...
ensuing much fear, accusing me of inequity!
Before I had a childish and overt personality,
I trusted anyone and laughed with anybody...
until their derision filled me up with anger;
I broke my connection, realizing it wasn't fair!
Before I diverged from the wrong and dangerous path,
I didn't recognize my naiveness, neither I felt bad vibes;
I helplessly fell into a deep ravine full of vicious vipers:
what spared me death was the laughter of Lady Macbeth!
GHETTO ANGEL
I'm always at peace yet I stick to my guns.
Its paradoxical for my traits to take turns.
Decipher the oxymoron in a peaceful worrier,
No harmony or truce without wagging war.
Peace to this young-hearted warrior
without the sound of the riffles,
despite emblems & scars of my past titles.
Wipe your eyes and see it clearly
'cause the world's view looks blurry.
The red sun sinks at last
into the hills of gold & erupts a blast.
At the fall of the night,
the full moon suffered a bite
like the logo of the apple company.
Night is no longer evoking symphony
and now, we drink-out our own bottles.
Before seeing humans babies see battles,
that's why too many of them scream
when delivered from the womb dream.
Peace at last to this warrior & the angel in him.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? 1st April, 2023.
I've never been much of a worrier,
Others do that far better than I,
Nor am I renowned as a scurrier,
Which is not to imply I don't try.
My small circle of close friends and loved ones
Is diminishing one at a time,
And one of these days
I'll wake up to discover
That it's my turn, and I'm next in line.
But if, indeed, that's the next big adventure,
I hope it's a pleasant surprise.
I'd love to prove, or disprove,
All the theories I've had
About life and love,
And good and bad,
And wisdom and learning,
And ethics and such,
That faith is a pillar
And not just a crutch.
But, of course, I’m not worried,
I don't do that, you see.
"Que será, será",
What will be, will be.
But on the off chance that there is a hereafter,
I'd like to reserve a small space there for me.
And should any of you get there before I do,
Try to grab us a nice window seat with a view.
You wrote lines placing them in my memory,
Your life cut short was a tragedy,
Lips with words of comedy,
With love and true harmony,
Your wings had fallen yet you were,
A king,
I had become your little wing,
Words never forgotten.
My friend my worrier of wings.
I will never forget your kindness,
That, I will truly miss each day.
One day we shall meet again
As you once called me your little wing,
There is no rhyme for W.W.
So, I will say goodbye and forever miss you.
My Friend, My Winged Worrier
These words are empty without you!
I will always be beside you.
Until we meet again.
My poetry Friend
TREASURED TRUST
O My friend, well-wisher and guide
I never leave him, when I feel tired
Surrounding smile at critical situations
Expressing Tears at Most Happiest times!
Oh, Trust is like a warrior, not a worrier,
None can be an honest supporter!
Oh, Trust is like a glass, once broken
It will never remain the same again!
Oh, Trust is like an invisible wall,
Between thyself and thy desires!
Oh, Trust is like a good companion,
Trust thyself, the great communion.
Trust, Trust, thy powerful guest
Not only best, but the finest boost!
Worriers Sink, Warriors Shine
- By Aare Tunde Dawood-Akerele
Let's exempt the death
Worry is for the living
Who has cases to win
Challenges to surmount
Fears to conquer
Aspirations to achieve
Failure to escape,
Success to record.
To worriers, life is hellish
Every issue seems unsurmountable
They easily manufacture excuses
Often soaked in sinking feelings
And anxious about nothingness
To warriors, life is fun
They call problems challenges
Often chase the winning formulas
Not fearful but focused
Warriors fight through the battlefield
Stand gallantly at other bank
Coast home winnings, loots, plunder
And tell the adventure tales of heroic exploit
Before the voyage
Worriers had sunk mentally
Physically in the midstream
Get consumed by anxiety.
Every worrier dies trophyless
A worrier cannot help but stress, when put to the test; A warrior delights in trials, that allow them to give their best; A worrier has self doubt and denies God's full control; A warrior submits to God, body, mind and soul; A worrier is anxious and uncertain of the outcome; A warrior takes rest in knowing all God's will be done; A worrier may look to God when things don't go their way; A warrior consults with God each and everyday; A worrier depends on their will and determination; A warrior depends on God through Jesus Christ's salvation; A worrier resent's and allows thoughts to turn barmy; A warrior repent's backed up by heaven's army; A worrier is afraid; A warrior is fearless; Which one will you be? A prisoner of the ways of the world or a spirit that is free? - No temporary experience, in life is a guarantee; Allow God to lead your life and control your destiny.
Heavy Feather
Life is on top of me, eating my soul.
Whatever happened to all the hope?
People come and people go.
Why am I unable to just say no?
I am weak in a world of warriors.
Feeble mind, broken pieces of truth.
All life has done is make me a worrier.
All this pain is nothing new.
From the darkness comes a hope.
She is light inside a shadow.
I run to love with all I know.
Still haven’t learned; soon saying “Ow!”
Heavy Feather weighing me down under water.
Subconsciously I am falling apart.
Make me a bird so I can fly back further,
Before all of this when I had a heart.
Before I decided to put on the bird suit,
I had dignity and a body of my own,
But lately all I do is try to soothe,
The flesh burned skin-suit I call a home.
(C)2020 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
And hence forth I am alone
A lone worrier
Going back to my den
And live like the old
Dragon with no companion
In a lost jungle
Who?
Will come to be a friend
Whom will i ever open my platter
Of thoughts,like varieties of fruits
In custured,
I alone will pull my sledge
Alone shall row my boat
For in me alone i see my companion
Until death pull us apart
Our travel end
Wally was a warrior
took no crap from no one
gave no crapt to none
Wally was my warrior,worrier number one
wise from the south side
smart from the walls
Wally was warrior One
no one had more balls
we enjoyed a lot of times
drank ourselves sick sometimes
wouldn't ever take it back
but now his friendships what I lack
gonna miss U for a long long time
but this sure aint the last
that this world is gonna see
of Wally KID BLAST
PALLANES
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