rhymes
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Allowing. Lifting. Holding. Nurturing. Being. Weeping. Forgiving. Love can hurt. But it can also heal. Love knows how to say sorry. And knows exactly how to feel. No questions, no doubts. No controls in sight. Love is the answer.
So It’s Clear That I’m A Poetic HEAVY HITTER ... !!!
Because My Rhymes Hit HARDER Than HITLER ... !!!
................... See What I Mean ................. !!!
I Hit Ya Like Mike Did To Yup ... Mitch Green ... !!!
I know I might sound superlicious and act so damn delirious
Even I find it mysterious
Everytime you come around
You bring the cataclysm in me makes things even more ambiguous
Sometimes I become oblivious
As a kiddie, school was cool,
My teacher rolled on her stool.
But this wasn't about school,
It’s about my trips like a fool.
Because I love you
I tend to lose my self around you
I want to be everything at once
Your super man… Your lover…Your best friend… Your king…
I put on the cape to be a superhero
But… Because I love you
Sleep, that place where fantasies keep & time repeats merged between the seams of sheets where some nightmares creep at the beat of consciousness in deep. Sleep.
I wrote this poem to explain how I think the tale of Hansel and Gretel should have ended.
The Grimm Brothers and their fairytales
Rhymes, rhymes, that’s what catches my eye.
End Rhymes, Slant Rhymes, Rich Rhymes, Oh my…
End rhymes are the ones we catch with no hesitation,
So I've come to a conclusion,
Everything and body is an illusion.
Any sense can feel a tense delusion,
Not sure what's real--
I feel deep confusion.
So open, so crucial
So dangerous, so brutal.
Things ain't the same as they was before,you must have been mistaken I will never be your whore.I blow kisses but that about all your gonna get,smooth shawty you act like you forget.
There's a crime in the mind
Of a man who rhymes about the common day times
The man who spreads lies in the form of tongue tied twists
Poetry’s Poem
Is breathing an obsession?
I think not, when breath means I’m existing.
Is poetry a compulsion?
I think not, when poetry means I’m living,
Tick Tock the clock mocks straight from up ahead
As I lay, Time keeps pounding down upon my head.
My head lays heavy on the dark blue sheets of my bed
No matter what I do sleep is something that I dread.
Rhymes bug me,
I don't understand why.
They're simply words
coming back and forth
with the same ending.
They are in most poems
and weaved into songs.
But I still don't understand
Many different people like lots of different things.
Some like fame or TV
Others like rain when it goes
drip
drip
drop
down on your window.
But me?
I love words.
Without filters and false smiles I am strong,
Even if sometimes I feel I don't belong.
I sometimes smile to the sky,
and that in itself is enough to get me by.
I don't have many friends,
At first glance you might tag me as the nice guy who always smiles and waves, but I think I give you some insight behind the mask today. Anyone who knows me close knows sometimes that smile is a facade covering up what's really going on.
English is a language far too complex,
Ordinary man or scholar it will perplex.
It seems nothing will translate directly,
Because it cannot be expressed correctly.
There is a time before sunlight,
when everything seems not right.
When all of the plagues on the heart,
One eye
Stung by a bee
But with no eye working
You cannot see
Two eyes
As it´s meant to be
But two eyes means one man
And that´ll get lonely
Three eyes
Unusually
The intensity of every beat of my heart
electrifies when we depart.
You have been gone for so many years
over this time I shed so many tears.
This emptinessI feel in my chest
Games of the heart are not easily won.
Is there victory when the battle is done?
Loss of blood will occur on both sides.
Pay no attention to the girl behind the curtainCuz boy I am certainYou'll have a little more interest in the one who's out flirtin'That twitch of her hips, you want her so bad it's hurtin'
She called upon me to aid her,
to stop the crying. Her crying
is a marathon runner who can never reach the finish line.
I’m no savior, but I’m the only one
left to care.
My skin burns where your hands once were like acid on light flesh.
I've taken four showers today to try to wash away the pain but your handprint stays on my porcelain skin.
She’s 16 and sad,
But in love all the same.
He walked into her life,
And with him, violence came.
First it was smiles,
And a love confession.
But the jealousy and control,
Criss Cross
Knock it off
Save me the pity
Ding Dong
Poof me gone
Plenty of us are broken
Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot
Threw my confidence over the moon
People need help everyday,
and it never comes.
Millions are starving
but we do not hear their cries.
Instead
we are concerned with our hair and our clothes.
I just wanna go back
Cause I feel like I’m in a trap
I swear it felt like a heart attack
Like I fell off track
If you look to your feet,
You will see a large sight,
This you might not know ,
But don't let it give you a fright.
For if you look to your feet,
This is the life of a young child damaged by the system
where they will stop at nothing to see you in the prison
What a world we live in
The things I see
Everything is hard
The struggles we meet
Nothing is easy as my parents would say
"Rhymes." you whispered, "Write me rhymes...
There's no other good kind of poetry."
It's amazing how little you see when you look.
Poetry isn't simply words on paper.
It isn't just thoughts from someone's head.
"I like big books and I cannot lie"..
And poems that especially rhyme
My escape as a child and in time,
An escape from the "Me" I spent years trying to find.
Holding on to the words of the pages
My world's alone and lost
I just wish things were simple
Words are stones in ponds
I feel the pain in every ripple
Time won't atone your wrongs
Emotionally I'm crippled
I'm Floating in the fog
Imma liar, but I'm honest.
Someone you don't wanna spar with
Sometimes my anger drives me,
And I just can't shake the harness
Mark's a literary marksman, words always hit their target
I do believe in one God, but sometimes I have my doubts.I do believe in prayer, but it does not have to be said aloud.I do believe in going to Mass, but why particularly on Sundays?
Mocking mirrors here and therealways relishing my despair.Never ceasing in their testimonyuntil I miraculously become bony.
Burritos deliver satisfaction to my tummy
The ones from Taco Bell are super yummy
The tortillas made of flour
I can eat them every hour
With your beans, rice, sour cream and cheese
I was first introduced
By a man named Dr. Seuss.
His rhymes helped me in the best of ways,
Especially if it was one of my worst days.
A real inspiration,
Gave me a good foundation.
Emotions swirl in my head like a never ending stom cloud overhead. I'm sad, happy, mad, humbled and so many others as life's accomplishments and defeats pass threw like rain.
I write because it free's me, from all the pain and agony that's concealed deep inside of me. I write because that's how people listen to me not physically but emotionally.
Will you still love me when my locks have turned gray
My dark skin losing texture inevitable as my ashes to one day fly with jays
As the ticks of the clock refuse to stop you'll join me one day
Why I write
To let the pain all out
The sleepless nights when I wasn't thought about
Kick off the pedal stool when I had something to say
Made fun of because what I wore that day
time stands still as I take a seat
as I feel my hands shaking
the passion running through me
my heart is racing
this simple thought in creation
this never ending tune
this pattern
this urge
The words swim through my mind.
They flutter like butterflies in the wind
Then crumble like the ashes of a fire.
A beautifully worded line
Falls apart, rewritten and thinned
Destroyed in an inky funeral pyre.
I find no need for the slant.
The ones on the end -- they bother me the most.
I guess I can tolerate the internal.
I can't even begin to fathom the rich.
Identicals... can you even call yourself one?
