PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You decided yourself the idea of you and me, was not quite the reality you’d thought’d bring you harmony. Which might have been fair until you refused to give me the respect to be listened to, and express my antithesis.

Now you’ve left me stuck, self-reciting my sour-salty soliloquy. You tuned me out, showing the epitome of self-servient apathy.

You promised me, mind you had no intention to keep, that you’d still be a friend, until you said the drama’s too deep. It was a vessel you filled with full control and intent. You slithered away and then complained you were spent. You invented excuses and convinced yourself lies, of how I’m just as absurd as other desperate guys.

You made me a villain and issued me blame. Deluded yourself to think shouldn’t feel shame. And you expect me to float off and swallow a this pill that you thought might prescribe a sense that i’m the one who was

ill-mannered, ill-tempered, ill-willed, ill-advised to believe we could salvage the best of our times and harbor a new kind of relationship, where we’d grow apart fondly, with memories

clipped to our dashboards now facing separate directions. Yours, pointed to your fairy tale misconceptions. With your eye fixed on a perfect fairy tale life, glazed to subtle the flavor of inevitable strife.

You seem to forget, I got to know you a bit. Buried your nose in your so called “support” that would never

quit to praise your sadly distorted ambitions, and agree that my warnings were trespassing suspicions. But you never allowed them the transparency I saw, to gaze straight through your Disney princess façade.

Now you desperately grasp for validation with your newest unwitting vessel of self-inflation. You mold yourself hastily to fit in with his life. Tricking him to believe you’ll of course be his wife. When just like the dance you put me through, you’ll get tired and look for something else to do.

That poor young bastard has no clue that there is no way of really pleasing you. With your head in the clouds and expectations too high. You’ll ignorantly fly from him to the next guy.

One day you’ll burn out and PRAY begin to see, that if you’d just sat down and had listened to me. I’d have shown you a more realistic support, and stop racing away from the source of your short-

comings, consistently

fettered to your soul since you’re the cause of your own pain-soaked love letters.

But I owe you one tiny note of praise. Your timing in cutting me out of your days

aligned just the right way to set me up in a daze

with the new love I found, who’s a wonderful dame. If I weren’t so angry I’d spare you the phrase, “she puts you to shame.”

She’s understanding, secure, smart, supportive, thoughtful, and kind. She loving, goodnatured, even when in a bind. My gratitude to you is,

I never would have thought, that I’d find someone else who’s everything were not.

Greetings Brockweir how do you do?

Just had to write a poem to you

What is happening to HAPPA right now

Unjust, Unfair, to lies they cow tow

Cos their staff as unfairly treated

As the horses being mistreated

looked after, great work of HAPPA

Just because cheap supermarket chains

Put horses in the food chain

It is their own fault I’m sure

Reasoning? You get what you pay for

HAPPA do INCREDIBLE WORK

Don’t deserve the flak being heard

Please look after, great work of HAPPA

Horses live for a long time

Not many charities too of equine

gypsy, pit ponies, race horses too

all the subject of widespread abuse

Decent human being? Caring?

Support HAPPA’s equine caring

Support HAPPA’s fight; troubled horses plights

Thrust into battle unprepared,
A situation not shared.
Naked, no armor, no shield
Amidst an onslaught on this battlefield

Inviting death with each beat
Frightened awake, even more asleep
All tactics have failed,
To this miserable land I am nailed.

Down to the ground I kneeled
Praying to a god never revealed
To relieve my pain,
The permission to be sane.

Traditions of life are traditions of death,
Don’t know if I‘ll ever be home.
“Is there someone there? Beth…?”
I need your help! I can’t do this alone!

Bruised, battered, beaten down
All that is needed; a tear.
From the god renown.
…hope has no home here

Near the finale of an immortal’s lifetime,
Something is found, a miraculous tome,
A flash, a burst of heat; the ground hits hard.
Am I home?

Traditions of life are traditions of death,
Don’t know if I‘ll ever be home.
“Is there someone there? Beth…?”
I need your help! I can’t do this alone!

Absent so long, the world has changed
A muted version, Deranged.
What the hell happened to this place,
Is this world that God could not face?

Thrust back home unprepared.
A situation not shared.
How much time has gone?
Time claims all and spares none

Time took my Beth,
…stayed my death…
What mode of torture is this?
This is not the home that I miss!

Thrust onto a land; unknown,
Alone.
There is no one there…
No one to care…

Traditions of life are traditions of death,
I know I‘ll never be home again.
Through my life I will remain Beth’s
God, I need your help… I can’t do this alone!

Why do you do this?
What is it for?
Why can’t you see
She’s the one I adore?
But what do you care?
Her life isn’t fair
So easy to take
Her heart and tear
It seems so unreal
And yet I can feel
Her sorrow, her pain
Standing in her rain
Her heart’s tears, falling down
Slowly going to hit the ground
Splash against the hard pavement
And now I wonder what you meant.

wow so many visitations
I barely slept through the night
so much with the transit going on tonight
I got so sore in my mind and my soul
was touched to tatters with all the beings
begging for the words to tell what mattered

I told them all after some sleep I would mend
and be back to hear thier requests again
but one would not cease and begged the end of the world
the message would not come though the calling would
and try as I might message was not understood
the curtains picked up and swirled around
cups toppled over and books slamed to the ground

the eerie feeling I knew was there and I knew
I had to find my wits and prepare.
the key to the cabinet flung on to the floor
finally the first clue I put the key in the door
i opened the files and looked all through
and found nothing i could find of value

I waited and sat in the dark cool air and as
the tempreture dropped I was well aware
the lamp switched on and under the light
bulb flickering something was there in sight
the thing was a time sheet for some games
and I sort of got the message and some names

I had begun the message to recieve
I had a clue of what it must be
the person handing out these, I did not trust
and had had problems with in the past.
the paper curled up with a breeze
that should not have come with ease
it fell to the floor where my son's boot was
it curled into the shinpad and settled there as;

I thought okay the problems there
her partner had swore at my son at training
and issues I notified with care in saying
little did I know information she was gathering.
I braced my self and the computer flickering
and went to see the log in.
I recieved an email with a formal approach
though I had never in person been approached

line after line delineating an attack on my personage
unfounded un educated and ridiculous charges such as being loud?
since when has being yelling encouragement over a crowd ever been too loud?
swearing at others was another false accusation
the small minded messageners had no Idea
who they were trying to take on my dear
and as being in the position earilier and
ratified I told the other person on my side
who later put in the perfect response.

And I have done nothing but look at the
wall with my grandmothers photo cookedly hung
I went and straightened it and quietly said
thanks gram mum.

I am going to help out at the clubs biggest function of the year,
and watch those idiots choke on their bad atmosphere.
I do it for the banner of the red and white
and will continue for the kids who need someone
on their side with insight.
I will do it for the community and good persons
I will do it all right for all the right reasons
and let the inept continue to drown in their
own spite when trying to show their meagre
self inflated might.