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Misguided Devotion The current so strong,As if gravity wasn't enoughTo keep a man groundedIn one spotFor an eternity, The constant surgeOf freshly strewn Memories seepingFrom the duct workMakes every stroke of my paddleSeem forgottenAs if I partook in the lusty lotus. Never does the riverS U B S I D EEven as the light fades,Lashes smoothThe violent rapids
I'm so vainAll vanity aside, I am a narcissist;I don't have an overly large ego,I do not want everyone to look at me,I don't want the world to revolve around meNor do I believe it should. In all hopes,The world will continue to spinOn it's tilted axis around the radioactiveGas ball just out of reach of every toddler's handAnd continue to provide ultraviolet lightTo all those proud enough to not carry protection.I have pride, I do believe I have talentThat someone appreciates what I do,Whether that is truly talent, I have little hopeThat someone will tell me as the comments die,As the favorites decrease, as the supposedlyTwo hundred plus watchers see my vile name,Maneuver their "mouse" over the little 'x' andIn about as long as it takes for the clock to go tick,If it did, as all clocks now tend to be digital,And my work vanishes from their "busy schedule."No, I am not vain, I simply wish to demonstrateThat for all the supposed love and supportAnd eager readers I have collecte
Swallows and BranchesSometimes swallows learn to fly,On lofted winds they stretch their wings;Trees are homes for those afraid.Though all birds fly and flap their wings,Some shall never leave their nests;Sometimes swallows learn to fly.In dead of night they set their sightsOn soaring inside milkweed clouds; however,Trees are homes for those afraid.They stretch their twisted jointsAnd beat their mangled wings, forSometimes swallows learn to fly.A gentle hope of fastidious flappingBreaks the bond of nest to feet; no longer,Trees are homes for those afraid.Goodbye wrestled nest of needles,Goodbye broken shell of home, forSometimes swallows learn to fly.Trees are homes for those afraid.
Papa, do not cry...Papa, shed not those tearsbecause angels lay in heaven:watching you push away those dear;mother grasps-beckons-pleads; met with resistance.You conquer nothing nor strengthenthe bonds you held diligently,shattered in the wakeof your torrent of negligence.Papa! I won't stand nor makeexcuses for your decomposition,but do not cry as mama has takenher leave from your destruction.Your constant stream of woesno longer saddens, but suctionsall essence from thosewilling to stand by you.Please do not doze...Papa, please listen too.No longer cry your dissatisfactionas tears shall not do-Heaven is home, my satisfactionso let angels lay in heavento watch with gratificationas you live in life and strengthen-Please papa, do not cry and weaken!Please papa, let your angel lay in heaven-
Why stop when I can...Why stop at a word,why not sentences,why not stanzas,why not a poem?Why stop at a word,when I can write you a poem;why stop at a petal,when I can pick you a rose.When I pick you a rose,I give you many petals,When I write you a poem,I give you many words.Why stop with a portrait,why not a thousand words,why not a million colors,why not a loving smile?Why stop with a portraitwhen I can write you a poem;why stop with a smilewhen I can make you mine.