To scratch to paper to feel, A rat pampered can keel, Catch as cant, caped and kneels. To manage a brokerage well, Manger broken, belly swells, Change hopeful, soon quelled. The train is gold but gone, Pain is old game to fawns, Again retold, they carry on.
im literally dying, dying, dying, dying i just wanna give up crying, crying, crying. it’s cold in my room it looks like a tomb, it’s cold in the house all the people are out hiding from each other not like those ideal lovers we’re cold without a warm hearted spouse. you’re shouting those words i wish ive never heard everybody is hurt and left in the dirt. for who is it good and why is it useful that we don talk the way we used to? im literally dying, dying, dying, dying i just wanna give up crying, crying, crying. but i just cant, cuz im in tears, i have many fears we wont talk for years. i wanna speed up the time to help healing the scares. it’s such a fucking shame, tomorrow’s valentine’s day we should be having fun but i guess it’s over now cuz we dont love the same oh what a shame. it’s shit being alone so darken your clothes and shut up your thoughts it’ll be better in months but who really knows? who really knows?
8 years old playing with dolls marriage between thots never touched the boys then at school cool swimming pools putting on your clothes causes me to drool in 7th grade joined the parade thats the time i came out of the shade i regret not sleeping at that one night i said what we cant forget you pretend not knowing my face you never call me by my name i just need to know what’s under the snow what’s the name of the show that you play i wish i were straight or you were be gay if only you would lay down with me babe look me in the eyes like i look in yours kiss me on my mouth and i would be yours
im so high and not because of drugs but because of love it’s alright i said what ive said and i meant what ive meant it’s so nice i just wanna be yours wanna be close wanna mean more to you i just wanna see you wanna kiss you wanna hear more from you and baby maybe it’d a big mistake to tell you i cant live without you, but only the dead dont make mistakes and im so alive when i think ‘bout you. i hope you’ll find peace in me cause i found peace in you and i know that im kinda freaky, it’s cuz im crazy in love with you. for freedom id give my life for love id give my freedom for you id give my love my life now has a reason im trying so hard not think about you, not fall in love with you. but what if it’s too late? and if it’s too late, baby what should i do? what should i do when everything’s against this love? what should i do when i dont know what you want? what should i do when i have so many questions but dont know the answers? what should i do when, what should i do when, baby what should i do?
Fruitful sword lily ablush Nestled in gardens lush Pigments triumph aplenty Resilient verdant sentry Colossal erectile shoots Ingrain deep abyssal roots Precious tis platinum spun Abreast a rising sun Glorious tis a supple reign Aubade a beauteous refrain Vibrant a gladiolus plant Borne on Gaia’s decant Traverse archaic path Helios waning wrath Shadows await dusk Absconding obligant musk
She writes fallacies of nobody, Highlights for her hair color, Callously she laughs with glee, Ire beauty and young bravery. Screaming in doorways sobriety, I like to think she knows me not. Picking flowers from her yard, Policy alike her start, mother, Discovering what to be, rather, Honesty like her heart, lover, It beats nobody clever. Until. Forgive my desires: two stepping. Your teacup leaking, I laugh still. Sieve steeping, a living actress, And to live needing? is this banter? Definition in short order, leaving. For give my empires to Stephen, An idea more Corey than Cancer. A ballet dancer, but a thick boy, Holes among left awood with joy, Man ideal for lawyers and cantors, For one who teaches is forgotten, Cotton tarnished in an oily oil. Royalty royal and parched to often, His voice softens, off his head, For I too seek enjoyment, spread.
Go ahead laugh,smirk do or say what you are going to do..i wont and cant stop you..its ok and except that im the fool..you have proved yourself out as the klown..as you thought you were cool,walking around claiming to be down..at the time you knew you bad me fooled,i already had the clue;you never or knew how to be true..but its all good cuz who am i to judge?iam able to at least except tbat i chose to be the fool..and to sit back in the crowd n enjoy the show;rather than wanting to be the ringleader and run the show..while you were in the streets claiming to be down and believing to be on the grind;im the"REAL WORLD" of reality you were doin what a ring leader does...marching around advertizing"the circus is in town"..but its ok in your own unrealistic world to believe in what you see and who you claim to be..so im willing to settle with compromise instead of regret..at least have a lil respect to turn our backs to each other and walk away and live in our own realistic world.. MATILDA MADRID
It hits me like Nostalgia That I cant recreate The times we had The way I felt A sense of belonging, of purpose I believed in a prosporous future It's now I realise The things we did The times we shared How I felt Came from how you made me feel That's what I remember It's you that I miss
I write without relent, Lawn ashen, body bent, Fawn bashful, words pawn. I write without intent, Politic truth, not respect. Words choleric, forested, Another blonde moribund; Floral, me'er ornament, Porcelain and floor clung; Flies flying and food dung, No chloroseptic rush. Sitting alone, he claims, Throne vacant, citrus grown, Plain clothes, no Satan. He makes popular statements, Pandering blatant, but fun, Worldview of a drunk taken. Full of heart, Dull as garbage, trumped, Meandering serious, Meaning wallet plump, Friends gone, blunt, Ledge found, jump.
The earth poetry, Pro apros, for her, Hair flowing, Grave guarded, True to the dirt, Forever ardent. Temporal and lack taste, True feelings Antarctic, Soil barbed, heart anemic, Loose moral decanter, Measured in yardsticks. Yet life scenic, Living wage garnished.
Bluesman. He was jist sat there. Strummin' away. Softly. Striking vacant chords. Filled full Of notes. In various hues Of the Blues.
Reflections on the demise of a Neighbour Everywhere here Is full up with junk That isn't really so. The building of a couple's lifetime. These possessions that are left Are all there is to show. The winged ducks Pots and pans Brooms and mops The crystal decanter with its glasses Projector and screen Slides taken of foreign mountain passes Planes and trains Books on stone polishing, birds, gardening and roses Videos and stills of Formula One heroes Transfixed in winning poses Sewing machine, curtains Cups and saucers Things that should have been handed on To beloved sons and daughters That never materialised. The log box, embellished in brass Figures of snails and owls Made in Caithness Glass Squirrels, dogs and hedgehogs Porcelain men and women Music boxes that play tunes While in the cutlery drawers Fish knives, glass rolling pin Even silver apostle spoons The collection of records, cd's and tapes Recorded by artistes, many long gone A multitude of stereos and tape decks To choose to play them on. Clocks and timers Wallets and watches TV and twin tub Clothes airer and spin dryer Pencils, pens and paper (by the ream) Plastic bags in all sizes Enough for several lifetimes Drills and saws Fishing tackle Fly, sea and coarse Full blown sou'wester sailing suit And around in the garage Long wader boots An iron gate Wrought with his own hand All serve to measure The mark of the man. Dusti Rodes (2004)