Negative

Get Your Coat

Folder: 
A View From My Bay

 

GET YOUR COAT!

 

 

 

It's packing day, get your coats, you can no longer stay.

 

All you negative guys must be on your way.

 

 

 

You bring nothing to my life that is sustaining in any way.

 

You drain the blood that feeds my way.

 

Suck the life out of all that is right.

 

 

 

I do not care where you go, but get your coat, the idea of you staying here is a resounding no.

 

 

 

I get that you think you are all that, but we both know it is an illusion, and you are full of crap.

 

So please get your coat before I lose all hope.

 

 

 

Your negative ways tend to cancel out my positive praise.

 

Your infectious frown stands as a pending plague upon the blessing of which I am bound.

 

 

 

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Do better

I don't always make the right decisions.

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Burderned

Spent most of my life, trapped in the dark

Chasing some sort of light, mindset so stark

I go deep into the darkness, all consumed

But somehow I emerge, hope renewed

It happens every time, like it's a game

Every day wondering, is this my last play

Focused mindset, clouded by negativity

Hoping, praying, for a moment of serendipity

This light that I'm chasing, it seems to fade

The edges of my sanity, they seem so frayed..

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I don't remember writing this. I was looking through a notepad I sometimes write in, saw this and thought I'd upload it. This is the first poem I've uploaded. The art of English is not a great subject for me. All comments welcome, negative and positive.

Enter My Fear

All of the welcoming emotion suddenly dies.
and the darkness shrouds the land in only misery's cries.

 

Enter grief!
A timeless ocean. 
Trapped of despair, trapped without relief
Enter the moon!
Endless racing of the thoughts.
Including you alone, trapped dead inside an empty room

The dead is holding you stiff once more!
Staring into your eyes, never have you felt so gone before

The time comes again, to pit against all that is you
Will you ever find the part of you that is actually true?

Paint the sky bleak
Consider everything we cannot speak

The one painting with the sun I painted as a child is lost.
Reality has broken the barrier, this is the ultimate cost



 

To Become

Society's filled so dark
A sickness fit to last
A hasty hungry shark
A one that bites the glass

The air turns a poison mist
and the grass turns to a distant waste
A glare becomes a fist
and then a flower becomes erased











Unmade mends, loosened knots, dead disillusion

Shrouded with doubt.. cynicism has buried it's way in..

through the skin.. parasites, they grin.. 

I don't know if i'm mean't to be where I am anymore, cause I made a mistake long ago,

did it take me off the right road?

maybe there isn't a right!! maybe everything is just wrong...

perhaps neither of the two.

damn, it can seem so confused.. 

 

These days are like flying forever on an aeroplane, constantly changing destinations while the inside stays the same..

too many people got money on the brain, i'm tellin' you it's gunna really rob your heart of the warmth that brings about positive change.. 

but you're too worried about keeping the change you could be sparing to another brother, in need of some support..

 

God could of wiped me from this earth by now..

the tears I shed are so full of life, & yet so fucking dead..

is this emptiness set apart from what's actually going on within my head..?

will these mends ever be made?

my heart is not your scapegoat, & my mind is not your slave..

so step away.. i'm not able to be caged.

 
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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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