PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The more this body furthers its duration on Earth,
The more I ponder upon
the conviction of our own banishment.

I guess it seems, we only live to die,
that death is an inevitability not unlike gravity,
a law imposed upon us
of which we compose no authority

Though this thought parades in the hind
quarters of this cranium,
My existence remains, dwelling in current event
so I will seize this day instead
and verify my own perception among the rest for
This mind, it affirms no coherence to this planet anyway.

with words said, I am not even here and
my pen spits lyrics that can only avatar
my boldest of emotion.
living never within the boundaries
of original custom.

If you were to ask me whether or not the glass is either
half empty or half full.
I would respond by saying I'd cut the
glass in half, allowing for only one
full glass to stick
its present.
To claim the such I do so to only spite
humanities far to shared conclusions to the metaphor.
Blunting a Creed to be
as familiar as the expenditure of chocolate butter
or a man of constant legal tender, constructing
a shank just to survive.
the unnatural is my common
and I worship my characteristic of difference.

But this confidence is through the
avenge of my fellow pupils.
The children of age to my equivalence whom live robotic clad lives.
They live between the lines shadowed by a foul
predecessor.

In words of other spoken.
I am telling you that I hate to say
I despise the majority of my own generation
because it is truth.

These maggots of youth compel me to cringe
over the verbal exposure of my own age of 17 years.
I blot my ears to the sound.
These wasted breaths surround me on the day to day
so
my walking in direction of opposite becomes
the only abandon.
I mean seriously
Child you are 13, ditch the skirt
and grab some pants and recover your pride because
your innocence is dwindling down a spiral worth infinity.
I ask.
Are you 12 or 22?
the misconception occurs disturbingly far too often

But it is the young men who
will mean fault to
my sanity.

If even one more of you mutants decree
any female to the label "bitch"one more time
I will lead Oath to dis adorn your eyes
from their sockets,
adhere your tongue to your left ear,
pillage your fingernails from your hands
as I allow your crying to cease for a maximum of five minutes
then proceed and conclude your torture
by dis leaving your dishonorable, fraudulent, unscrupulous lips
and barging them so far up your rectum
that you could speak to your own intestines
if the possibility was credible.

Pause as my words seek stop.
my temperament is of rage
but my point, I wish to be of focus and meaning
so I guess this will not just be
a submission of anger to the distraught portion of thee fellow peers,
but a contribution to the youth whom
exhibit their own
beings with love and honor.
Those who do what they want.
not those whom do what they see is done.
Those that abide by their own trends
and experience life
as God has meant for you to live.

To the girls who consider their pride before their thighs
and the boys
who nurture their manhood
and at the same time,
safeguard womanhood.

To remember that
although death may be designed for the questionless.
It becomes what we do that makes us different during our brief period of air intake
which pays respect to our legacies.

So let us adore this time
and with those who share
our sure retirement
let us honor them

but always, always...

just be yourself man.