Strippers and Trash Cans
Please don't send me
Send me memories
That feel like
the look of steel trash cans
Beneath florescent lights,
with that little streak
towards you Like
The eyes of some
Fuckin haunted painting.
Or the notion
Beneath spotlights aimed
By untrained hands,
Of what you don't know
Because the focus
Delayed Like appreciation
And I always seem to miss
The things I almost saw.
Maybe that's life.
You only ever
Comprehend the ass
Towards the curtain
As dreams unrealized
Finished and empty
To the sound of applause.
Like the best tits
You never saw
And wish you remembered
But don't ,
But still brag about
Because no one
will ever know
Framed by charcoal regrets.
Don't send me flowers.
Send me a trash can
To hold the remains.
The half wilted moments
I think they call it life
Or some shit.
The Vacant Garden
Please don’t send me flowers
I won’t know what they mean
I’ll think you really care
And hope for things unseen
Flowers bring birds
But I can’t hear them sing
No birds, no bees, please
I can’t take the sting
Please Don’t Send Me Flowers
...one by one
...stem by stem
In your teeth.
In your teeth,
...step by step
To my feet.
To my feet...
Oh, confounded, just come empty handed!
We'll pick dandelions from the cracks
of the walkway out back,
And toss straight water from the tap,
If you'll only wrap yourself around
these wilted shoulders now,
And let us bask...
Please Don't Send Me Flowers Challenge @Finder
movement of death
I hate you.
I hate you with admiration
I could have never
5th grade, I was a hopeless romantic wanting someone to love me for my weird self. I saw a kind boy, tan skin, dirty blonde hair turns brown by winter. His brown eyes glimmer around his friends. He played sports and I watched movies. He was popular and I was quiet. I wanted to tell but was too scared to give it right to him. A letter was passed to a teacher and then passed to him. Later I told him it was me, he giggled. But, he never did anything else. No talking til he asked me if I voted for him for student president. Boasting about a girl liking him but not take a chance on her. Such a great feeling, my own feelings can get confusing but all I felt was sad and annoyance of others. I never wanted to be in my room so bad. My hole is my home and it has been for as long as I can remember.
Take It From A Worn Heart-Sleever
When I was a child petty jealousies felt like valor;
What an honorable thing it was to be cast from the ignorant flock
Into the wild wolfish woods of intriguing self doubt...
How noble it was to be deemed ignoble
By caviling eyes, so crossed...
But what in myself was any good without their bad opinion?
Anything of real goodness in me longs earnestly for rejection of the unsuccessful;
Recognizes the necessity of it,
Even now, after knowing how wholly villainous Rejection is;
How easily it mangles sweet innocence,
Rankles suspension of disbelief...
Oh mine youthful folly...
What an epitome of conscience bearing it is,
To be a dreamer, overlooking the
Beauteous chasm of longing;
That reveling peak of loneliness
Beckons me nigh to teeter at it's terrible summit
Aloft to that high place where it is so brazenly tempting
To think I can fly.
But rejection is the very ground on which I stand.
The cliff that I have clambered up in my haste to be closer to truth.
Are we all this way
When unwittingly pulled to a precipice of change?
To fie and thrash blindly against the foe of growth...
Only to cling forthwith to thine same enemy
As soon as one's childish old foot
Backwards upon the wretched declivity of mistaken conviction...
On the cusp of hopeful stupidity the foot touches nothing
But a fickle memory of a fantasy cloud;
A whimsical wisp densely loving enough to support feathered fallacies...
For 'tis then when the soul clutches to it's bodily senses
The same way a babe clutches; imbued with the urgency of survival,
And gives the name of mother to anything it grasps...
Grasp, grasp at thine enemy; Ruthless Rejection...
And label the jagged cliff friend.
For it is the only one here who can rescue the child from it's own false footing.
Don’t Send Me Flowers
This is the color I choose
To color your roses
And to run away
It's time, I saddle my horse
If I ride like the wind does
I’ll be long gone before tomorrow comes
I decide to make my peace
I send a letter, to say
This was never my intention
I took some poison
Now I'm seeing visions
So, into my insanity I descend
And then she says
"Please don't send me flowers"
"I will be with you in the hour"
My light and your Icy face
Your blank stare pushes me down
Down to the emptiness of my soul
And as I spray my last rays of light to you
Your icy face reflects back,
passing through my holes
Pointing to the true longings I should have sought
Instead of you...
And I burn,
What is behind me I cannot see
What is ahead of me is only agony
I miss my shell
I want to go back to my cave
and Find myself again
Last night my head exploded.
No one was hurt but me.
No wonder no one will sleep with me.
Who keeps exploding my head?
They must know
How volatile are its contents.
Not much will set it off.
My head has always exploded at night,
Waking me up with a start--
Heart racing, sweating profusely, and
Surviving the blast.
Now it's exploding in the daytime
For no reason at all
Head mines tripped by accidental thoughts
With a perimeter of collateral damage.
I don’t need beautiful things in these hours,
I have no more sand in my hourglass.
Today do not send flowers.
Blooms cannot reach my towers,
My sister will love them to her let these comforts pass,
I don’t need sympathies in these hours.
To my family such a thing empowers,
But not I, alas,
To me do not send flowers.
Clouds shed tearful showers,
For today one last time my loved ones amass,
I don’t need decorations in these hours.
Final brief encounters,
In a bed sealed by bronze and grass,
At this time do not send flowers.
Like all things that time devours
For now, I reside in a peaceful morass,
From you I need nothing else after these hours,
So please to me today, do not send flowers.