Where the Grass is Green and the Girls are...
What is it?
Paradise is Axl Rose naked on a cloud
Just a-waitin' for me!
the chicken or the torch
which came first,
or the egg?
what should it matter
because the chicken
crossed the street
and never returned
leaving a cold little egg
in this world alone
whence they came,
no one knows,
but the egg has hatched
and a chicken was born.
isn’t it funny how suicide is alright?
but god forbid you reach for the needle
takes you from martyr to junkie,
druggie, smackhead, waste of potential, no good
die young at your own hand and live to see yourself loved
or stretch it out long enough to medicate and fall before a judge
maybe it’s just me, but i think they’re quite the same
and we should hold the standards as such.
my name in bright lights
to stuff the wallets of the poor
if i ever have my share of the world's wealth,
be damn sure i'd change it all.
the heart is a bone
thank you in advance for the space to promote my work!
my favorite piece of mine is the heart is a bone, a boo-hoo kinda love story, told in the irregular format of what's supposed to be a poem. allow me to shamelessly drop a link :)
capital fucking STEEZ
watch the twisty turny ripples on the telly
brains melt to nothing
leaves every orifice natural to the body
we're dying but we keep going
minds and teeth and hearts rotting
hell of a lot of baggage we're towing
where did it all go wrong?
when did we lose our taste, our respect,
we're numbed to the sensation
of our dignities ripped from our weak hands
impressionable and indoctrinated
if i die before twenty five,
i hope hell is where i land
“cry cry, closed eyes,”
these days my focuses have shifted
heavy rock glam kid to a
careless teen with reckless dreams
how i long for the sting of peruvian
for help, for love, for anything
i can not bear feeling this way
everything and nothing at all
please lord, tell me something
a tidbit i've wanted to know all along
where the fuck in the world do i belong?!
how do i live with the blood spatters
the pieces stuck to the walls
uselessly wasted brain matters pasted to the ceiling
for my soul i call
for a solution i beg
if there's a god out there
i guess all i can do is fucking pray.
if nikki sixx made it out of 1987..
here i sit, wondering where i’ll be in a month. in two months. in six months. in a year. in two years. in five years. in a decade.
what will i achieve?
who will i know?
how will i see?
who will i be?
they say that life changes people.
it has already damaged me,
athena and her miraculous christmas joy
no one knows where it started
he was there and you were screaming
his skin was pale and his nails were long
you consider- was there really no sun in heaven?
he approaches you, and you back away
you bit your tongue but he's the one who bled
he begins to fade into a cloud of smoke
“i don’t want to forget about you!”
he’s already gone, but this moment is real
his fingernails graze like razors
watching your back and guarding your heel
he is here, he’s breathing but his heart has stopped
his cousin's CPR just wasn't enough
his sister watched his soul elevate to peace
you feel terrible for her,
at seven years old she saw too much
baby blues watching mocha browns die
the road before her is awful tough
and though his existence was ephemeral,
you remember that your love for him is eternal.
his lungs expanded for thirteen years,
he's been gone for three and
you tell yourself it's been seventy
because every moment he was gone
you were the only one at the grave
blonde boy blonde boy
ripped skinny jeans
blue-eyed sad boy
acid wash hoodies
your mom was a druggie
went to school where i met you
you hated everything
blonde boy blonde boy
bouncing legs and
vapes in class
you smoked your pot
popped your pills
followed in her footsteps
you never did fit in
you went to school and
pulled up late for class
they ignored you and
mocked you and
laughed at you together
they took your money and
they took your clothes and
stripped you of your dignity
they blew smoke in your face
wrapped their arms around your neck
watched you choke and twist about
your eyes went dead
six months later
you followed their footsteps
and hell welcomed you
with open arms
i miss you everyday
your big smile and your laugh
i miss your sweet face
your boldness and your words
i hope they gave you a switchblade
to carve your poems into your grave