Thursday, May 13, 2010

Wow did I really write that, cont.?

Going over some writings and its been a long time since I sat down to read them.

I gather grass and  greet flowers
On summer afternoons. 

You’ll often find me crying
because a flower never bloomed. 

With a pen or a stick
I like to draw out  what I see.

I am in the form of a rumbling bumblebee.

Floating, flying up around but never  flying free.

A bit of a puzzle?
Shake the box if you agree. 

Don’t cry as the pieces fall out for you to do as you  please.

Steam Engine/blowing off steam
I suck at poetry, suck ,suck, suck, suck , suck.

Want to taste my blood?

Cant master the feat, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

Critics don’t trample me!

Can’t keep the beat, rush, rush, rush, rush, rush.

Will you wait with me?

I ‘just in infancy, putt, putt, putt, putt, putt.

Car, come hit me!

I lost my blood as I heard the thud.
Trampling me, they rush and wait as my pulse goes putt, putt,….putt.

I have fear, I have pain.
I have numbness in my brain.
I have dreams, I have passion.
I have love underneath the shame.
I am normal, I am crazy. 
I am somewhere in-between.
I am dark, I am light. 
I am opaque like the ocean sea.
I have color, I have warmth.
I plead insanity.

Repetition in loom.
Deception leads to doom.
Misconception is to be dismayed.
Destruction is chaos at play.

Demolition is man’s way to deconstruct.

Insurrection is a way to fight. 
Communication is about the bright. 
Conception is a word for start.
Connection is about body and heart.

Perfection is a frame of mind.
Direction is standing right in line.
Intention does not fit in time.
Selection is the wiser wine.

Acception is awful kind.
Affection is the heart of mine.
Celebration is feeling fine.
Presentation is a gift that shines.

Revolution is about the rhyme.
Creation is destined to be God’s time.

Rhythm rebels reign
Conscious lyrics move the groove.
Jah revolution.

Insurrection instigates independence and the individual.

Words for Wisdom
Constant worry about a selfish ego
is the well half empty or full?
Speechless fear splashes
with every bucket pulled.

Still to chance
is far better
than to

I Am Not What You Want
I am not a dreamer.
I am a realist.

I’ve lived too much to be sitting on cloud nine.
I still have work to do.

I am not a conformist.
I am a rebel.

I sit comfortably in a hectic crowd.
I have strength of my own from within.

I am not an infant.
I am a playful child.

I know how to play crazy games.
My goal is to make you smile.

I remember the past.
I live in the present.

I was once broken, shattered and bruised.
I clearly remember who did what, when and to whom.

I am not a talker.
I am a thinker.

I have screamed silently on mountaintops.
I can hear reeds bending silently in the wind.

I have lost too many battles.
I am with passion that ignites the fight.

I am not a daughter of Whistler.
I am an abstract picture.

Short and Surmised

I like to hide
Within my mind
Maybe seen
Within a glance
in your eye

I am stoic
In the darkness
At home am I
Enjoying the depths
I plunder
Into unknown

Comforted with less
than affectionate pleasure
Waiting for some to know
Sitting in weathered torment
Storm subsides against
Ones eyes glows

Can you come and search
Can you seek to find
Are you in lurk
To destroy a delicate mind
Residual lingering shot
Like morphine to ones
own thought

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