Get Your Premium Membership

Best Poems Written by Robert Addington Wells

Below are the all-time best Robert Addington Wells poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Robert Addington Wells Poems

12
Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Temperature Rising

Passion, Wonderful sensation. From lust,
and desire. Divine temptation; Soul on
fire. Found within fassion. There is no
defeat, no escape. A heat in mind, Etched
in your fate, Burned within Time. It sinks
in so deep. Passion is Love with a drop of
Sin. Ideas scattered and tossed, No way to
win. Hormones blazing in passion's view,
Juices boiling on the brain; All things
created in sinful bliss, Without any kind
of pain. Sometimes found within a kiss. Or
even within a look or two. The powerhouse
of mind and heart. Where time collects a
toll; rips lives apart. Buys your smiles
and pays with your soul. A portrait; a
picture; of procreation. With a
misinterpretation, called Love.
Satisfaction of heart, fullfilled in mind.
Passion is happiness, when you've forgotten
time. When you've found God, sitting Above.

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006



Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Dis-Appreciation

And so that’s it. I don’t  think we’re gonna make it.
It’s getting too hard to just PHukcin take it
I wanna break it, Phukc it up.
You don’t even know, how to fake $hi7
So listen biznitch, you need to go.
Cause time’s a coming, yeah it’s a full runnin’
And the slower you get, the deeper your debt
So keep all your ‘pinions, and free all your tension
And breath appreciation, justifying your temptations
Cause it’s shorter than you think
This life’s an island about to PHukcin sink.
You can try and run away, if you want…  
In these times of trouble, our mistakes, they double
And beneath the rubble, is proof.
Yeah all the $hi7 we’ve used to PHukc over our youth
So take a look-see, don’t abuse the nookie…
Cause it’s not just pussy, actually has a name!
In a search for fame, in vain, we try and ignore the pain
SO let me tellya, “you’re in danger, fella.”
Don’t ever underestimate the truths of “Hella”
Now what do we have left? Who next do we impress?
Cause for years, our ears, have been trained to go deaf.
But is all good, in this great neighborhood, it’s great. Actually all right.
So quit, just quit your PHukcin biznitchin and be thankful you even get tonight!

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006

Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Random-Deadly-Existence-Screwed

Forsaken, mistaken. That is the way I am.
That's how it happened. I was left behind.
My brain flaking. Unaware of my mind.
I'm forever saddened. Bruising, I'm losing.
My soul as quick as could be. Advocation of truth, I try to send.
A left hand fashion statement. Realism that's soothing.
There is a case, there upon my face. Of depression and hate.
It's a question of mind. A part of fashion.
The essence of my trace. A sensual form of passion.
I'm running out of time. I see the rising moon, at "my noon."
And I shun the sun. I am a blend of love and hate.
Curse me and die!!! The end is coming so terribly soon.
I may as well continue. The screwing of my fate.

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006

Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Unconditional Intent

This is as is, elegance, as is an infallable
distraction. A one reaction, in posed affect.
Of cause about. Disatisfaction as is, is as
agony, a tragedy to detect.
The expression of affection; a misconception
of Lust. An ﷯action﷯ of intentions, preventions
for Unconditional trust. Purety of heart, of
Soul. a "surety," some "peace of mind" 
control. The effort of compassion, a must
For its injust, to Love in doubt.
Two; for the workings of romance, an 
Innosence of indulgence.
We, are as, is as, are our understandings;
Initiation. Active sedation, sorrows to sleep
Body exhaustion worn. Purpose to be born;
Concentration is, of well, and of an
imagination, just an interpretation
incomplete.
Glitch...
Systematic, stimulated, preformulated beast..
Popularity, sincerity, just another charity feast.
Direction, perfection, an infection of Lies.
We're fools, with rules, just tools to muffle the cries.
Why? Bye? To die, one fact we must face.
Scared? Prepared? Beware of what's after this place.
Sickening, and thickening the way; our path ahead.
Hate-to-date, so much to say, has yet been said.
Has yet been said. Has yet been said...

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006

Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Candle Sticks

Who's the riddler that some call God, 
The jokester that some call Lord?
The enigma in everyone's mind... 
That's way to much to try to absorb? 
It's all of this, and all of Time... 
And can even be seen by the troubled blind.
It's fear of Living; 
Knowing it won't last. 
And it's comfort to a dying man. 
It's all that's now from Future's past... 
The author of the Great Plan... 
A little book with a lot to say,
Written in the palm of the hand!

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006



Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Dedicated To the Human Race: Thanks For All Your Time

There, just beyond that dream. There’s my life ripped at the seam.
Then there’s my friends, the pot-heads and dope feens.
And there’s a hole, in the dark; void of light; missing a soul.
Glowing with ambition. Growing in shame.
A blur to sight, a mentality of pain.
There, just beyond what’s real
You’ll never know just what I feel
And here, are my sins…Scabs of dirt, that’ll never heal.
My pain has a taste, like rust and copper
Like copper and rust, I steadily waste
A constant reminder, of what I’ve lost
Oh just what you’ll pay for trust. Just what is the cost?
The fire is in the human head. We’re the reason of our falling
And already fallen dead. For the “tree” is gone.
We’ve choked her, and she was never fed.
Like untamed weeds, we’ve sucked her dry
Though we carry on, mutating our future’s seeds
Now look into my eyes, see what’s written on my face
Our true lives are gone. We’re just a dying breed out of place.
Here…Right here…around and above
I’ve gone blind in my search for unconditional love
So I hope you remember. I hope you can recall
Yourself being the symbolic death of Peace; a fallen dove.
I’m sorry for you. I’m sorry for “us.”
I hate that the truth leaves confusion,, and not knowing what to do
There once was something here, that was of color, for lease
Then rented, used, and destroyed.
So I hope you’re happy, PHukcers, how you’ve disrespected our deceased.

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006

Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Cost of Trust

"In God We Trust." 'o Red, White,& Blue; so
money's "Holy," then taken from you.
Red:bloody bed, Lincoln's dripping head.
White:skin-paling as life's bled.
Blue:clothed pigs that made you cry.
Green:"trust in God" that helps us die.
Burning paper-greed. Flag for each un-grown
seed. Sold as "thought" to a richer man. Oh,
definately part of God's great-Plan! His
Kingdom come, under our nuclear sun. Red:a
heated mind for all unsaid. White: trash,
lies & filth we're fed. Blue: face taking
its last breath. Green:oxygen, sold for your
death! May as well quit the hard-earned
profession, God's upped the price of that
next confession. Freedom's colors are
certainly found. Couldn't be free'r with a
newly bought hole in the ground! We're so
smart with "technical lust", but what's to
expect, when it's "in God we trust?"

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006

Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Glitch

Glitch
Systematic, stimulated, preformulated beast..
Popularity, sincerity, just another charity feast.
Direction, perfection, an infection of Lies.
We're fools, with rules, just tools to muffle the cries.
Why? Bye? To die, one fact we must face.
Scared? Prepared? Beware of what's after this place.
Sickening, and thickening the way; our path ahead.
Hate-to-date, so much to say, has yet been said.

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006

Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Eye Stones

Eye Stones
It has come to pass
That we sing our songs
Of yesterday's gloom . . .
Of tomorrow's doom . . .
While trying to figure out
Why we are out of date
Fools of doubt
A mind trapped within a state of time
Where life is but an imagination
Of an empty soul's interpretation
Of a mirage in the desert heat
And we are made of meat!
Able to rot and age with time
Dying from the moment of conception
Like glowing embers falling from the sky
We're already dead, so we can't die, just cry
The clock is running out of tock
The eyes are growing dark--a sea of stones
What's it like to know you are dead?
To know that life is just all in your head?

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006

Details | Robert Addington Wells Poem

Lost In Trip

Looking up...looking deep, 
There is no end 
No limit of space 
A perfect blend, 
To within I sink. 
I can't blink 
I can't sleep...watching my mirror weep, 
Looking in to my own face! 
Sound unheard, undisturbed, unclear... 
Within insanity I soak. 
Bleeding my thoughts in pain, 
I swallow reality and chaos...and choke! 
I will not cry 
When I die... 
For I'm all out of fear...
My mind is gone, fled from its hole. 
I'm going insane!

Copyright © Robert Addington Wells | Year Posted 2006

12

Book: Reflection on the Important Things