Time Flys
Wow it has been entirely too long since I posted something in my live journal. For approximately three months I haven't used this so I could get out whatever I am feeling. Even though no one is probably going to read this since it has been so lng, I figure I might as well post anyway because I do not feel like doing my Chemistry homework just yet. So I was sitting in English and trying to pay attention to what was being said and all of a sudden I got this urge to write a poem. I knew I was going to be a little rusty because it had been a long time since I wrote a poem but I figured I would give it the old college try. So if anyone reads this I don't really understand the poem I wrote but maybe you can. It's a shame when the author doesn't even know what he is talking about but that is just how it turns out in this case. So if you are out there here it is.
Everything is feeling strange.
Everything is going to change.
Everything that you deal with is never an even exchange.
Everything will not be easy.
Everything is not always breezy.
Everything is manipulated if that is what it needs to be.
False perceptions and deceptions are prevalent because they are allowed. People playing silly games games sitting ignorant and proud. If others would debate , to stop the hate then everything may change. Forget race and color, love your brother this should not be so strange. These are only my words simple nouns and verbs, available, for an exchange. But if I don't pass the time with making them rhyme will you question my writing range? As I'm wandering and I'm close to the brink. I stop and ponder and use my brain to think. I reflect on the effect of my own dialect. And I wonder why my thoughts are so obscenely direct. The paper is begging for the for the pen's touch and caress. And without it it feels hurt and under duress. Time after time and line after line can you perceive my complex design? Do you understand or should I take you by the hand and guide you like it were a late night walk on the sand? How is it for you is my vocabulary too dense? Or is it easy to comprehend does it all make sense? It is what it is it is evident and clear to know. I Just want to create a classic like Mozart did on the Piano. Or more recently like R. Kelly with Trapped in the Closet. The paper is the bank and I wish to make a deposit. If I was a dark poet, and much closer to a stoic then I could have all these emotions and not even show it. However that isn't so, I let my emotions go, so if there are tears running down my face I allow them to flow. Because for me it is not an issue, I just need a little time and a little tissue. I am content with all my tears as I let them wash away all of my fears and painful years.
Everything is feeling strange.
Everything is going to change.
Everything that you deal with is never an even exchange.
Everything will not be easy.
Everything is not always breezy.
Everything is manipulated if that is what it needs to be.
False perceptions and deceptions are prevalent because they are allowed. People playing silly games games sitting ignorant and proud. If others would debate , to stop the hate then everything may change. Forget race and color, love your brother this should not be so strange. These are only my words simple nouns and verbs, available, for an exchange. But if I don't pass the time with making them rhyme will you question my writing range? As I'm wandering and I'm close to the brink. I stop and ponder and use my brain to think. I reflect on the effect of my own dialect. And I wonder why my thoughts are so obscenely direct. The paper is begging for the for the pen's touch and caress. And without it it feels hurt and under duress. Time after time and line after line can you perceive my complex design? Do you understand or should I take you by the hand and guide you like it were a late night walk on the sand? How is it for you is my vocabulary too dense? Or is it easy to comprehend does it all make sense? It is what it is it is evident and clear to know. I Just want to create a classic like Mozart did on the Piano. Or more recently like R. Kelly with Trapped in the Closet. The paper is the bank and I wish to make a deposit. If I was a dark poet, and much closer to a stoic then I could have all these emotions and not even show it. However that isn't so, I let my emotions go, so if there are tears running down my face I allow them to flow. Because for me it is not an issue, I just need a little time and a little tissue. I am content with all my tears as I let them wash away all of my fears and painful years.