poetry: give your best shot...here's a taste of mine
December 15, 2006 3:18am CST
THE TRUTH Disease-infected, scaly-skinned, blistering I roam but I am beautiful to the naked eye Only the well-trained can see inside me These cells tremble with fear of deterioration but still you try to "get at me" Honey, dont let me release this sickness on you your too young and fragile to handle the truth Everything is everything but what it seems I am a mirage of appearances to you In the desert you will thrist for water and I will be standing before you like quicksand you cant appreciate what I am Natural forces are not always pleasant but always necessary and true And the truth is you want a lie to lie to every night and if I'm right.... You want the lie to lie to you to but only if she smiles with a wicked twinkle in her eye Then she's just pretending, right? You'll rationalize until all reason is gone So I will make it plain and simple for you I AM NOT THE DISEASE FOR YOU Pick another one cuz I'm through with conniving my way into bloodstreams and mental pattern of the few...I POSSESS I cant take life anymore sleep to dream, but dream to wake but if and when you do...conquer the disease that is you
2 people like this
15 Dec 06
I CAN'T DO THIS, I CAN'T WAIT, FOR WAITING FOR YOUR LOVE, IS MAKING ME HATE, EVERYTHING ABOUT MYSELF, EVERYTHING I HAD, WAITING FOR 3 WORDS FROM YOU, IS MAKING ME GO MAD, SO, ETERNALLY I'LL LOVE YOU, BUT, ALAS, I HAVE TO GO, AS MY SORROW AND MY PAIN, HAVE TAKEN ME TO GOD'S FOE, I HAVE SEEN MY FINAL SUNSET, I HAVE HAD MY FINAL KISS, SO OFF I DRIFT, FROM YOUR ARMS, INTO ETERNAL BLISS!!
1 person likes this
15 Dec 06
Little Brown Baby by Paul Laurence Dunbar Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes, Come to yo' pappy an' set on his knee. What you been doin', suh—makin' san' pies? Look at dat bib—you's ez du'ty ez me. Look at dat mouf—dat's merlasses, I bet; Come hyeah, Maria, an' wipe off his han's. Bees gwine to ketch you an' eat you up yit, Bein' so sticky an sweet—goodness lan's! Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes, Who's pappy's darlin' an' who's pappy's chile? Who is it all de day nevah once tries Fu' to be cross, er once loses dat smile? Whah did you git dem teef? My, you's a scamp! Whah did dat dimple come f'om in yo' chin? Pappy do' know you—I b'lieves you's a tramp; Mammy, dis hyeah's some ol' straggler got in! Let's th'ow him outen de do' in de san', We do' want stragglers a-layin' 'roun' hyeah; Let's gin him 'way to de big buggah-man; I know he's hidin' erroun' hyeah right neah. Buggah-man, buggah-man, come in de do', Hyeah's a bad boy you kin have fu' to eat. Mammy an' Pappy do' want him no mo', Swaller him down f'om his haid to his feet! Dah, now, I t'ought dat you'd hug me up close. Go back, ol buggah', you sha'n't have dis boy. He ain't no tramp, ner no straggler, of co'se; He's pappy's pa'dner an' palymate an' joy. Come to you' pallet now—go to yo' res'; Wisht you could allus know ease an' cleah skies; Wisht you could stay jes' a chile on my breas'— Little brown baby wif' spa'klin' eyes!