Brotherly love
The DebtThey say life ends with regrets and stands still to correct the void in time, lines form anew, a mind becomes one with the few who have lived...The Debt
Momma says that everyone dies...
Did you ever think about that? \"everyone dies\"...
Why? Why would God choose to take what he\'s given, remake the binds in heaven reform the lives of the living? The purpose in life seems almost clear evade the hand of God\'s, live in fear that one day, death, rather, collection of souls takes another toll and infection of regret sows in the hearts, le
Looking Glass - version xeoiiIf my life were to end this dayLooking Glass - version xeoii
would few or none morn?
If my life were to end this night
would the norm extend over what I\'ve torn?
Would my mark in my friends remain in stone?
Or would my soul stand and pray alone?
If I\'ve done so much to make a change
Then how will death cause it to rearrange?
Will tears come full? or Smiles crack thin?
Would the victim have lost?
Would the unjust then win?
Then my first grade teacher!!
THAT LYING FART!!!
\"You can make a difference,
with your mind and your heart.\"
Enough with this
Give
The TruthSo you want to know? The truth, We live in a world of peace of release in which the switch of eternalThe Truth
clinches to faith, to love, to hate to flows of pain
that surfaces in a time create remain alone... not likely
Now, the truth...
A world is only the binds of
the mind in time and rhyme rhyme of creation, inflation of the societal plights in trite unalleviated nights within the sunrises, only to recede
with the greed we feel in cries in the elevated, enumerated,
contemplated forms of grated cheddars o
The Curse Of Formal VerseNothing is harder than writing formal verse; We struggle and we try to wrack our heads, But all words fail, our poems are a curse.The Curse Of Formal Verse
The creators of such forms were most perverse, Taking pleasure from poets wishing they were dead. Nothing is harder than writing formal verse.
A failed writer shakes his empty purse. He is determined to, once more, be fed. But all words fail, his poems are a curse
The Villanelle, The Sestina; a hearse
Waiting for that poet, writhing in his bed. Nothing is harder than writing formal verse.
An inmate of an asylum cal
My Quotes II
Don't be a leader, it's good to have someone to blame.
--
eat to live, don't live to eat
:iconfight-tournament:
--
eat to live, don't live to eat
:iconfight-tournament:
I'd just like to thank everyone that has been and is commenting on my poems, especially Herladyship, thanks.
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