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posted 11/21/2012 2:07:26 AM |
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tagged: poem

Time forever concealed all the thoughts congealed, as

Memories served the past un blurred

Who holds in their hands of banana peels

While trying to think of intelligent words

But I have no say in what I think, my minds a toy, a kitchen sink

With strange imagery, that I know too well

Like the last piece, and the key to hell

Opened, locked, what have we to find

Empty beer cans, socks, half a bag of pork rinds

Cluttered around in an over sized room

The walls stay hidden for fear of the magic mushroom

and silly vibes, surrounds us all

We shatter the sound, stumble then fall

Laugh at what's funny, the air and the breeze

Ponder ways to make money, on the exploitation of me

I want to be you, you want something else

I could tell the truth, but wouldn't be myself

I'd just be a fool who's always lying, to himself, but no one's buying

Bulls shit on grass, where else would they?

A kick in the ass, makes some people say

Enough with the drama, I am sick of crying

Coming around like karma, watch old people dying

Sit up in your chair, don't be such a slouch

I can still smell her hair, as we kissed on her couch

Memories can be sweet, though at times fatal

Getting tested all week, on the skills of appraisal

Friendships that last, together can grow

Going way too fast, hands creeping too low

What are the points? to mad men's ideas?

Smoke alot of joints and pretend they don't see ya

Hide in a crowd, be hellions, rebellious

Start singing out loud, Mom's not here to yell at us

Back to time was the subject, I think on previous pages

Joys of writing a rhyme, I love it, A pen is my stage

And the world is an actor, in a dozen spotlights

The sun, a determining factor, on how long of a night

Sleep was my friend, though long, long ago

Will this poem ever end? Man, i just don't know

'Cause I wanna think of something, really deep and shit to say

Ah fuck it.....There is always some other day.

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