PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You can turn your mess

into a message

You can do your best

sharing advice

You can turn your mess

into a message

Put it to the test

That would be nice

Sharing what you learn

can be impressive

Sharing your concern

Being progressive

Everywhere you turn

So much is out there

Everything you learn

helps you prepare

You can turn your mess

into a message

You can do your best

sharing advice

You can turn your mess

into a message

Put it to the test

That would be nice

We've all been there

We all can share

Just be aware

You can turn your mess

into a message 

You can do your best

sharing advice

You can turn your mess

into a message

Put it to the test

That would be nice

Unsure how to process,

I am living on the edge of forgotteness,

While today, taking out the trash,

Nearly gave me whiplash,

To the past I found myself agazed,

Upon the rough, unforgettable haze,

Containing the choices you have made,

And how I just try my best to wade,

Through the pain,

That left a permanent stain,

And through the disappointment,

That took my enjoyment,

The person that lived in that room,

The one that lacked a broom,

That person was not you,

At least not the one I ever knew,

Having kept that aspect of you separate from my mind,

It was easier to have your role clearly be defined,

But now there's another person that's been along for the ride,

And it takes strength to learn to coincide.

A footpath I travel.

At the dog and paper litter I marvel.

Can't they see the problems they make.

Of ill health and rodents I do not fake.

The footpath goes downhill.

So too the standards of that hill.

Many years ago such lack of standards would be unthinkable.

Litter problems surmount and are unsinkable.

How to combat such pollution?

What oh! what is the solution?

Bins, signs and fines have thought to be the answer.

But still the litterers gather.

Spreading their garbage on the way.

Whilst taking their route via this by way.

Maybe prison is the deterrent.

To pollution making errant.

I wish you understood that
the storm in my eyes is not meant to
strike down your branches but i just have trouble
holding the flood above my palpebral dam and
concealing the darkening and contorted surface of my planet

I wish you understood that
the aftermath was never yours to
rummage through and salvage but instead a mess you
must learn to see from your view and
still hold all the bits and pieces in your arms and call it your daughter

Unknowingly she carries a threat,

She is who she is,

And your ace is her card,

Saturated and wet.

Disquietude  within,

What does she own?

Out of  her mind,

Out of your zone,

Disillusioned by fear,

Her dress is duress,

And the hair on her head,

Never ever a mess.

A comb on the vanity,

And her vanity,

Her home,

Threatening insanity,

As her sanity will roam.

Feed her, you'll wither,

Starve her she'll die,

Suckle her ego,

You'll find out she's shy.

Conceal from her your passion,

Your  envy will rage,

Bear your grace to her mirror

Cause the show's on your  stage.

 © 2013