bad

MY ODE TO BLAME

now if you get to blame

you have to be lame,

blaming only increases delay

your brain stops automatically

 

when attention focused on the blame

diverts attention from the frame

of reference for a solution

really delays any resolution

 

even insurance companies ignore blame

cos it extends the ball game

blame drags any timeline down

creates many furrowed brow

 

people who are stuck in blame

only one word for it: Insane

assigning blame causes delay

the blamer gets lamer days

 

be lame if you want to

its your choice choose

not a good choice at all

DOWNRIGHT MENTAL

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I Did Something Bad

I did something bad,
something pretty horrible.

I did something bad,
something that can ruin my future.

I did something bad,
something that is killing me.

I did something bad,
something that I can't tell you.

I did something bad,
and now I have to face the consequences...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about how I feel about something I did that was pretty bad...

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Bad Luck

Folder: 
Nature Poems

8' O clock
Knock Knock
Rain tapping
Lightning snapping
Thunder breathing under

Pat pat
See that cat?
It forgot its rain hat
It's a world full of bad luck

Pour pour
Lighting soar
There's no where to hide anymore
Bad luck forevermore

Roar roar
Thunder at my clammy door
Shake me, break me
Give me the bad luck

What bad luck!
I am stuck!

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Haunted

I didn't realize what I saw,
Until sometime later it shattered my dreams.
Unable to sleep at night,
Trembling in fear,
Drenched in sweat,
The anguish diminishing whatever sanity remains.
Doesn't happen often,
Mostly I stay strong,
But when the nightmares return I struggle to stand tall.
They all feel so real,
So vivid I tremble at the thought,
But I'll continue to fight,
Refusing to back down.
I can't lose to myself,
Committed to endure the suffering,
Because nightmares are only dreams,
And I control my destiny.

It's Just One Of Those Days

 

 

I cannot make the words come out.

I cannot translate these thoughts into a language that

anyone can understand.

Living in my head is a heaven in hell;

the one place I can't escape,

the one thing I can't hide from.

I feel like I'm trapped in this body and limited,

when I (we) just want to break out

and be set free..

It's a constant mosh pit of emotions,

rubbing and smashing into one another.

If I'm not, then there is always someone thinking in my head.

Always functioning...

Always wondering...

Always dreaming...

Always screaming...

Always begging me for my attention...

Always dragging me into its colorful pit of bittersweet confusion..

A whirlwind of insecurity,

A storm of questions,

    A yearning to know why...

Why can I not answer these questions based upon myself that I of all

people should know...

They say that no one can know you better than yourself..

But that's hard when you are more than one..

When "yourself" consists of many pieces to a puzzle that do not fit each other..

Thus, being because these pieces do not belong to one individual puzzle,

But to many individual puzzles with their own unique pictures, pieces, and thoughts..

When will all the pieces fit?

Do I really want to solve this puzzle?

Will I ever?

Or am I destined to remain scattered, unsolved, and abstract?

 

 

 

 

 

© Rachel Aleta Livingston

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

(A Note from the Author, Rachel Aleta Livingston: I have to say that this "Word Of Art" is by far the most Meaningful Work of Art that I have ever Written. "It's Just One Of Those Days" is the most Personal, Deepest, Beautiful, and Meaningful "Words Of Art" that has ever come to me from Deep Inside of my Innermost Feelings, Thoughts,and Consciousness. This is my most Cherished Work of Art... Thanks for Reading...)

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Fishing season

It's ice fishing season again.

I'm in the mood for sushi.
All the fish are still tasty but I want something different. I can't even remember all the names of them I have in the bucket.

I'm a carnivore. Who the fuck am I kidding. Maybe one day I'll find a great vegan restaurant. Maybe I'll start liking different vegetables.

Maybe I'll still think of Noah with every step.

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Consequences

The day soon may come
When darkness overtakes the sun
My world will come crashing down
With friends and enemies all around
Only two will have to die
Me and the other guy

For me a new start will unfold
While his future is put on hold
It's the consequence we'll have to take
Leaving old friends in our wake

We have one chance to stay alive
Everyone will have to lie
No one may know what happened there
In that late summer air
Those who know won't forget what was done
But that's okay 'cause I'm still looking at the sun.

Grit

I knew a mannish boy named Grit
who liked to drive his motorcycle.
There wasn't much he cared to do,
but riding always felt so fine.
He knew the girls were watching him;
he didn't stop to question why.
All Grit knew was he had it easy,
and he wanted the easy to stay.

Grit would light a fire for his friends
and stay and keep them company.
He'd tell a joke with tones of voice
that felt like mirrors and prism glass.
He always would agree with you
and step down quick to raising voice.
He also had a slithered way
of slipping hands into a pocket.

For many days Grit may be a friend
until a perk may catch his drift.
And then he may step down or back
atop your head or below your skirt.
At times his grip will belie the waist
even if the time's not right;
given to the time and place,
Grit would migrate to higher ground.

Eventually, one no longer knows Grit.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Some times people are just bad.

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The good and the bad

It's hard being good, yet it's easy being bad.
People become bad from broken hearts, horrible past, lost loved ones, or just because they want to.
But it's never to late to see the light and go where everyone wishes to see
Instead of the people feared
The good is always rewarded but the bad are severely punished
You must choose a side to pick your own fate and choose wisely because it might be your own mistake

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is actually's my friend's poem. I posted it up here to show her that her poem is actually really good.