Hit and Run


Happiness comes not,

    By accident alone,

You must hear the crunch,

    And the breaking of bones.

And leave behind,

   Forever now was,

Not heart and mind.

   But the collision and cost.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Bloody near killed me, but didn't so I can forgive.... but not quite forget.

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Was the answer found in someones song?

   Did it remain truthful 'til it moved along?

Does it triumphantly grace an hour of greed,

   When the desire to "live" betrays the time of need?

And was it questioned, unbelievedd be found,

   To find after all it was only a sound?

        And sound to some may be a'floating,

            On a far canal or distant boating?

        Or perhaps on whispers, murmurs tuths,

            That may one day be all the proof,

        That when we were wanted we were found,

            But in times of need had gone to ground.

        But in our passing had given hope,

            To times remembered that make us choke,

        Yet our guilt does no-longer make us fray,

             And is this I would like to say,

        That our time is not to needlessly question,

             But just to take part in conscious lesson.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Word Processing, Words, the Voice, a Grunt, a Screech, a Splash.

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One of the beasts

Managed to ponder

Evolved from the ape

And started to wander

He invented a language

And all sorts of tools

Created a science

And opened some schools

Then, what did he do

With equal aplomb?

He blew us away

With the nuclear bomb

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Real progress, huh?

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This magic theater echos spider and dust

Man's desire for fiction

Harsh lights pantomime a freedom

Calm the crowd soften this radience

This wise weaving spell

The immortal words the worlds the wounds

Slide the collection plate my way

Find me pay instead in deed

Our time here is spent as art

Boundaries shut silent as peacocks

We sit with our ghosts and tells

This magic theater moans with its bad back

The nave is crooked the alter impure

For an imperfect play

Calm the crowds sing the sing

And sing the sing

Unzipper their destinies

Destroy their protests

Uppercut words

Silentcat neon unlit

She's a tigress

So bleary bleary

Our time here is spent as art

Silent as peacocks, we are

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Tickle, Tickle,

    Crawl and Itch,

You Fly,

    You Land,

You Ocean,

    You Bitch.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The things that contribute to our annoyance may well be the way to our arrival.

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Falklands 82

I remember the day we landed.

I remember the day it ended.

I remembered the day I got back.

I just don’t remember the day I left.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I sailed to the South Atlantic.
I may have still been under the influence of alcohol.
I don't honestly remember.

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The Nameless Soul

It rained all the days of a fellow man's life

a six barrel wedding,no pictures in light

and the day that he died the sun did arise

to chase away tears from nobody's eyes

a bottle of whiskey was a breakfast he met

sent from his mother's heart to a son she'd regret

a father left wild in the bars through his years

like the scars on his face left behind from his tears

and when he was born the preachers they did cry

for they saw there was no hope for this boy alive

so when he died all was dropped at his grave

no flowers or weeping, all saved for a better day

laughter rang out the day that he passed on

for alas,lay the body of no one's son

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the shoes

i’ve been wanting

to wear

they were now


to me

i tried them


they wouldn’t


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Do we desire something that was really not meant for us?  

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A long time ago, I used to think life was an obstacle. Something holding me down, pushing me back...keeping me away from my goal. Although... to this day I have yet to realize just what my goal is exactly. But now, I am unsure of everything.

I used to think that friends were like toys. You kept them, and played with them, until they either broke...or were lost. I don't suppose that any of my friendships were broke, but every one of them were lost. I've never attached myself to anyone except my parents, whom I will get to later. I have still to understand the concept of a best friend. At one point in my life...I was proud about my detached, and quite friendless nature. But now...I am not sure if I want to be alone.

I've always enjoyed the comfort I got from receiving pain. Not physical, but emotional. I've always felt that if I could endure the most agonizing heartache ever, that then, and only then, would I achieve one of my goals.

Since I was old enough to analyze myself, I have always thought that I deserved pain, of both kinds. I wanted to be tortured, yet live to remember the agony. I wanted to be alone, to feel the deep pain of loss, regret, loneliness. I wanted to hurt in every way possible. I wanted to be betrayed, beaten, near death, heartbroken...I wanted my soul will strengthened, no... Weakened. I wanted pity. Wordless pity. I wanted to be saved from my pain. Find light in my soul's darkness...eternal love. And I feel twisted for such desires.

I wanted something unique. Something nobody else had...yet no... I didn't want it; I wanted to be it. I wanted to be an outcast, never belonging, never fitting in. And I wanted somebody to recognize me for that.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

It's not a peom, but just my opinion on everything I could think of at the time.

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