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Best Poems Written by Peter Despirito

Below are the all-time best Peter Despirito poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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My Home Sweet Home

My Home Sweet Home (Part One)

New York City...My city of reality...my city of those broken dreams...my city of the business schemes...new york city....my home sweet home...the only place my heart will roam...so i could never ever leave it alone...new york city...my city of broken homes...my city of broken coble stones...my home sweet home...

New York City...how damaged it seems to be...but more beautiful than people see...so deep with secrets and schemes....that broke peoples dreams...a heart skips a beat...people labled bums living in the street...the weak could never speak of...once rich with love...drunk in the morning...park bench at night to sleep off the drug...
mean mug with a gangster lean shoulder shrug...little eyes bare witness growing up to become a thug...nightmares is kiddy play...innocent people slaying...government playing with our money...delaying our dreams...as they think its funny...but we still love our new york city...no lie...we could move but why..? 
Why let those broken coble stoned stoops kill our dreams....? Why let the business schemes take our money we couldve used to fix broken scenes....? We are New Yorkers....home of great talkers....but no action.....beautiful lights....but knocked before we reach our heights....deadly fights....
staged in a park in the dark....different colors are threats...race factor and hate crime...amongst crime itself...yet we are still the greatest city...as silly as it may sound...I will be buried under New York City ground....
New York City......my city of reality....some day we will all see...triumph of humanity....where else would I be....right here....my home sweet home...
I will never leave it alone...
By: Peter T DeSpirito

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015



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I am

I Am (Do Not)

I am an ordinary man with the same life span but shortened by habits....
I am a person who's second language is cursing...every second to third word dispersing 
f words...
s words....
c words to b words 
and it gets worse....as I curse I wonder why....am I that disgusting guy on the train
 or bus that people look at with the stank eye in disgust....
I am the black sheep at the family party that don't speak back 
'cause I lack what I was before or hardly....I am walked on 
spit on 
dissed on by that one and this one...
the unwanted 
the used 
the non excused 
the mentally abused that use to get me to do what I didn't want to....
I am....life....do not mislead me 
do not mistreat me...
do not walk on me 
do not tread on me...
dis-own me...
leave me lonely....I am dead....
do not cry...
do not sigh or shy away from our memory....
do not miss me....
do not kiss me when I lay in my coffin cause many times too often kisses meant nothing....I am nothing...
I am an ordinary man with the same life span but shortened by habits...I am stress...a mess....useless....not important...never was...never would be....
but...you know what..I am me....
 
Ode to a homeless man...
Though there are no shoes on my feet and my filthy clothes are not pressed neat....
my arms are tucked underneath my head...i am sleeping still...
almost feeling dead...no fear of losing anything...just leave me here with my beer...cause I am....what you see that I am...The homeless man
By: Peter T. DeSpirito

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015

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Ode to the Cigarette

            Ode to the Cigarette

My air is contaminated by the cigarette smoke that I smoke...walking in the clouds makes me choke...though I enjoy it no joke..no money in my pockets 
'cause the habit leaves me broke...calming my nerves destroying my lunges...the excellent taste...the life shortening plunge...it is wrong...
death from of it is painful and long...getting weaker...still so strong...
though I throw myself into this painful drug...my shoulders I shrug...as I drag and tug...pull and puff my air contaminating cigarette smoke that I smoke...
By: Peter T. DeSpirito

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015

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Jesus, Where are you Brother

Jesus, where are you brother?...

Too many of us are hurting, bleeding, dieing, crying, and denying who we really are....searching for what is true...looking for what once was there....a mother to care...the feeling of love from a mother....

Jesus, where are you brother?...

Too many of us asked if you exist...sinful thoughts rolled off their list...aiming for a bigger wish....waiting for answers to smother them from your mind while in prison....now they plan to listen....people wishing for your return...those sinful thoughts in minds will burn...like wild fire to bushes...burning what is evil inside of people who once stood for the better of good....

Jesus, where are you brother? 

Come clutter our world with your lessons of what was once taught...smother us with words that will bring up the un-Brought....teach us the way of a better day...bring back our stray...this time stay...children without readiness to pray go to bed...did you hear what I just said?....

Jesus, where are you brother?....

Where are you when we are hurting, bleeding, dieing, crying, denying who we really are? Give us a sign....point out your star....cause we know you're close but yet so far

....Jesus, where are you brother?
                             - By: Peter DeSpirito

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015

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Can't let go

                  Can't Let Go

Can't let go of the feeling....being lost without a cause just cause....
I have no Clause....no calls to being some one's....(belonging to no one)....
not just anyone's....but that some one who would always want me for me...
not who I could be...I can't let go of...
short passages with no aim in this poetry stained game...I stay a slave to...
making my pen engrave the words quicker then my mind thinks....
filling the paper with empty but thoughtful passages links...to a piece of my heart 
yet another wasted unpublished word art...
I part with no dashes...write about lost and found love....
yup staying a slave to this felling I can't let go of....

Fighting with such a discretion when my mind thinks...
Visioning alphabetical words when my eyes blinks...
Jotting down so many sentences my hand stinks...
being a slave to this poetry stained game links
to a piece of my heart yet another wasted unpublished word art....
By:Peter T. DeSpirito

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015



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Back to Reality

Back to Reality

Waking up from dreaming...still screaming at myself wondering why it keeps 
seeming to still be just a dream....but in reality mathematically nothing adds up 
to be what its supposed to add up to....so I do what I have to do....from fake to real...false to true...what would anyone do...if they kept going through....changes? 

Dreams slipping through...moving eyes when closed...thoughts of opening to something new but still the same...who's to blame..? There is no gain in life's game....it's a shame to aim for something that you really want...and you dream of fame...do things...see...touch...feel...have...but back to reality...

The world is expensive...everything has a cost...dreams are lost...expectation never reached...seems like lies what priest has preached...homeless living in the streets...leeched of what they once had...a home...a husband or wife a child that once called him or her mom or dad our country is the best but we live so bad...

It's so sad to strip dreams that people once had...places they wanted to go expectations parents wanted to see...but...back to reality....reality is harsh in a complexed kind of way...we could be gone tomorrow...but we're here today....
a dream is a wish your heart makes...enjoy the fakes...feel what is real...
throw away the false capture the true...I can still dream...can you?
By: Peter T. DeSpirito

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015

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A Poetic Mind

              A Poetic Mind

A poetic mind will never find it so hard to see the words....to feel the words...
to place the words so perfectly where he or she may want them to be...
in a poetic mind lays a soul....that has enough control to impose 
that words are never easy to let go...so they over flow....some darker than others...which smothered the un uttered compact and cluttered words.....
a poetic mind will unwind from time to time....some poems will rhyme....more often than many will not....but that won't stop that poets poetic mind....
day dreams of the words that fall into place in front of faces....
not leaving spaces on the paper to write another un uttered smothered word that compacts and clutters the poets poetic mind like window shutters....
A poetic mind can never let words just be...written from left to right....
its just to easy to write....a mesh of words....words blistering the finger tips 
from the pen grips...and the paper scrapes...across each line because 
that poetic mind will find it....so easy to grind it or engrave the words...so a poetic mind becomes a slave to the paper....blank is it...seems to be....
but on a blank sheet of paper I see....words rhyming in perfect harmony....
made from the poetic part of the mind of me....this poetic mind won't find it hard to see....the words that I perfectly place together....whether in blue or black 
my poetic mind won't cut slack to the blisters on my finger tips....
or let go of my pen that drips in motion that places....the words so gracious...
leaving paper with no spaces to write another smothered compact un uttered word made from a poetic mind....a mind of mine....

P.O.E.T.I.C    M.I.N.D
E.      H.        A.      E
T.      O.        T.       S
E.     M.        T.       P
R.     A.        H.       I
        S.         E.       R
                    W.       I
                               T
                               O

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015

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That's Fine

                  That's fine

Ok you don't want to love me...that's fine...
But do not stand there and try to tell me how I feel 
and do not stand there and make it seem like my love wasn't real
I can scream on top of my lunges telling the world 
standing at the edge of a ledge to a building ready to plunge to the concrete below...but why bestow my problems to everyone...why let everyone watch me leap to my death exclaiming that I have nothing left in my heart that you ripped apart...I could start robbing...
fighting in a ring ducking and bobbing to fill the void of the love I just lost...but I'd rather tell you...
Ok you don't want to love me that's fine
But don't you stand there and try to blind my mind with hateful words 
and do not stand there and curse me to make it worse...see...as much as you try to despise love...and push love away...I was there for you helping you stay strong no matter how wrong I was...'cause I love you...ok you don't want to love me that's fine...but I was still there for you helping you through your depression...
and being the man I needed to be...the man I thought you needed....
I felt my mission was completed....but now my work and years of my life are being deleted...and my head can't take no more...of being shoved towards the door...all because you don't want to love me no more....that's fine...

By: Peter DeSpirito

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015

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My name is Pete

..My Name Is Pete..

Up beat down to earth feet planted but not yet on them, my name is Pete...Eh Hem
...i am hopeless romantically driven, living a walking day dream of things gave and given forgave and forgiven, pride stricken but uplifting...mind made from the street my name is Pete, short for Peter, kind hearted but now to the point where if you don't care...I won't care either...improvisioned mind strong that words escape from wrong...my words are mine...written sloppy but revised to be perfectly neat...
my name is Pete...I am poetic artistically gifted me...
it's not clear to see cause I hide it for a bit for my self composed reflection...
my words are mine...they are my sunshine...my turpentine....my intoxicating mind destructive weapon, never letting....
my pen get a break from the constant fast circle motioned shake, 
I write words 'til pens break...
up beat down to earth feet planted but not yet on them...eh hem...my name is Pete. my poems are written down to be discrete, I show the chosen few to read the real Pete...the passioned compassionate...hopeless romantically driven...pride stricken...up beat artistically gifted down to earth planting my feet to be on them...eh hem...my name is Pete
By: Peter T. DeSpirito

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015

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Word Weapon-New Blood

Word Weapon

I let go of train of thought when I notice a person getting caught, and abused by another person in the form of cursing or some sort to have that person feel distort....and after that person is abused...and used to amuse...suicide becomes 
their last resort....word weapons are such a discretion...

Stop the Word Weapons...Stop the Word Weapons...!!

Stop the words weapons that are being used more than machinery...
it gives people a reason to start swinging in a violent matter...after that 
word weapon's egged on chit chatter....

I let go of train of thought when i notice a group of people circling another person...laughing...and giggling...pointing...and singling out one after another...
while he or she is crying...like a bullet hit deep...signs of that person's pride dieing...now rendered weak...unable to speak...misjudgement of character...like a book chapter missing....someone should say something but they act like they're not listening...

Stop the Word Weapons...Stop the Word Weapons....

Stop the Word Weapons....!!! Stop the reason for violent discretion...stop the judging...stop the pushing...and shoving...stop saying nothing...
let the abused's pride be rebuilt inside...let the weak speak....
let the shamed look up to the sky...let the quite unable to speak stop being shy...be strong instead of weak...laugh instead of cry....we all are people...we have feelings that are equal...no matter the color...let us listen to our mother when they have said...to treat others like we want to be treated...smile when being greeted...
cool off when you are heated...look with a smile instead of a frown...
'cause our father who art in heaven is looking down...wondering if we are lost...and can't be found...

United We Stand...Divided We Fall
By: Peter T. DeSpirito 8/12/2012

Copyright © Peter DeSpirito | Year Posted 2015

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