(For a friend

To a Friend

There is no way I can thank you for all that you do for me,
but I hope this is a good start.
I wanted to thank you for excepting the person I really am
and being my best friend.
For making me laugh and letting me cry.
For making me laugh so much it hurts.
For making me smile
and making me feel important.
For being nice to me when I don't deserve it.
for standing by my side
and never leaving me behind.
For helping me fix my problems,
and never giving up on me.
For telling me you'd miss me if I were to die.
All the ways you've changed my life,
I couldn't show.
The way you take care of me,
you are a shinning star.
How incredible you are,
just the way you are.
Before I get to mushy,
its time for me to go,
leave this ink-filled page,
but theres one thing you should know.
As long as we are living,
no matter when or where,
if you need me give me a call,
I'll be there. I'll climb a thousand mountains,
cross a thousand seas anything to be there,
cuz you've been there for me.

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Buried In An Unending Night

A Promise.
No one will leave me like an unwanted toy buried in a sand box.
Love.
Nicknames on a keyboard on an autumn night.
Money.
Inside a pocket while waiting for a car.
A friend.
Who laughs a light blue laugh in the night that does't want to end.

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Spilt INfinitive Split INfinite

Folder: 
poem

Spilt INfinitive
Split INfinite
Milk gets old in the creamer you are in a 24 hoour Restaurant do not add this to your coffee drink it seperately and rather quickly then hide the coffee in the cupp with your mustachio so they will not see it is only black and you will soon discover love only iff you straddle the fence vote both tickets walk on the creek bank your money in your pocket only spend it for your needs live your lifetime to be mended like a poets dreams is there any thing new under the sun shine sally forth find that job pay threw the nose gay and happy is the lifelong dream of a poet in the street is not a beggar unless he needs seems to rhyme with thought or bought or boughs of green green grasses down home kindling laid to rest in urns of wages wars will stop the peace will come the final resting place is undecided election office bored rooms full of shuffling feet nerves at fever pitch a ball and a strike one to nothing in the inning is the windup and the stretch it is Golden Gardner in the last leg against them all fall down the London Bridge is used in Snooker the Pool is where the water lies. Near the taciturn users where the door jambs open close open close all day long is the shadow and short is the hump back fish is good with fries perhaps you should just Kethcup to the eye now you should see me smile. Oh good lord eye spilt the milk and split goodbye.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

classic poem the kind of thing people line the bird cages with

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Legend

Legend is what is made of it, going out on the road.
Strung out from the heaviness, and bitter inner cold.
Trying to remember what happened, just a night or two ago.
Knowing that you are in their hearts forever, where ever the crowd will go.
True Legend however is in the friends you left along the way,
who knoew you when you were nobody, and to them you remain somebody to this day.
Legend is the true good times before the world caved in,
and the freinds that stay beside you, until the very end...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

(For a friend, posted at my FB page under my real name)

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