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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
Both hands, mine, dipped in brutal blood.
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2020
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
Some eyes are a brilliant blue
With a hyper realistic feel
Some eyes are a bouncy brown
With a gorging glare of steel
Some eyes are an emerald envy
With an insurmountable amount of real
So many eyes! So many traits! Now let’s
Make some more colours!
Some eyes are a mighty magenta
With a small statue as the beholder
Some eyes are a perfect purple
With a beholder as big as a bolder.
So many eyes...
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2019
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
The tire ran on the roads,
at a speed of the flash it ran,
the tire was rogue,
it was black and SLAM,
it violently crashed in to the car;
breaking glass and metal and parts,
as if it had control on how far,
and it knew where to start.
Where did it come from?
A lorry?
Why was it like a bomb?
I’m sorry?
How did it know where to go?
It had a mind, a brain?
I guess it went with it’s flow?
I guess it had a lot of pain?
I guess really...
Nobody knows!
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2020
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
Copper is bronzed
And is so so alluring-
But can be evil.
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2020
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
Any excuse to have a go
At you I will use it, I am
The good guy (despite using
Verbal abuse), and you are
The bad guy; as I remember
That time you made a mistake,
Baddie, baddie, baddie,
My anger is not fake;
You move that chair
You put steak in the freezer
You use air
You are not a believer
You are you
And that, is the problem.
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2020
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
Look in to zero. There is infinity.
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2020
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
I don’t believe I am truly breathing air
I don’t believe I’m good like a saint
I don’t believe god or whatever is fair
I don’t believe life is pretty like paint
I don’t believe I am a flare
I don’t believe my face looks faint.
I also don’t believe heroes save the day
I also don’t believe staring snakes will fall
I also don’t believe baddies ever pay
I also don’t believe i can climb the wall
I also don’t believe people have a say
I also don’t believe every towers tall.
I believe i am evil. Stop calling me good.
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2019
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
The big catch is what you look for
The large fish is what you want
The big catch is through a door
The large fish is something many can’t
If you want a big fish go big
Because you need something strong
If you want a fish don’t go to a rig
Because if fish were there it’s wrong
But what if you don’t catch
What if you lose the match
What if you can’t give a fish a slap.
But that’s the thing with fishing, you can’t always win. That’s the catch.
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2020
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
Fast is the train
Fast are the wheels
Wheels are round
Wheels are solid
Solid is metal
Solid is rusty
Rusty is puce
Rusty is deteriorating
Deteriorating is atrocious
Deteriorating is occurring
Occurring in ancient paper
Occurring in my head
Head is large
Head is hurting
Hurting with malicious memories
Hurting with pure wild wrath
Wrath due to crying
Wrath due to neglect
Neglect due to isolation
Neglect due to work
Work is key
Work takes priority
Priority is hygiene
Priority is tidiness
Tidiness is shiny
Tidiness is smart
Smart is A levels
Smart is grades
Grades of maths
Grades of insanity
Insanity due to a rapid heart beat
Insanity due to her with surreal eyes
Eyes are azures
Eyes are scary
Scary is blood
Scary is knives
Knives for murder
Knives for cooking
Cooking for people
Cooking for you
You should care about you
You should not be crying
Crying is dos full
Crying reminds me of dad
Dad was confused
Dad had to many drinks
Drinks cause the murder
Drinks made me do what I did did
Did...
Murder...
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2020
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Jacob Preston-Bridges Poem
The lawnmower rolls and grazes the delicate mind of the gracious grass, it reveals the truth about what lies. The lawnmower stops and the person, sorrowfully, stops to see the sinister
sin he has committed. The grass is to
Short, the mud reveals a ground littered
With dead centipedes, ladybirds, all
Sorts of atrocities litter the ground.
As he looks, he truly realises the atrocities
He has done. His soul stays stung, he
Feels guilt, genuine remorse. He felt
Good, mowing his grass, until he looked
Back, eyes eject tears. He’s human.
Nevertheless, if he was to say the
Holocaust he has done, it would be
Pointless, tears would stream from
The other gardeners eyes, he did not
Care about the bugs until he looked back.
Forced to open his eyes to reality.
Exposure knows only to cause pain for
Pointless reasons. He continued his mowing.
He’ll never really change.
Copyright © Jacob Preston-Bridges | Year Posted 2019
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