Soul
People judge me
By judging my words,
And when they judge my words,
They judge my soul;
Because those black markings
On that clean white paper
Are the outpouring of my soul,
The very fabric of me.
Go ahead and judge me,
It will hurt and make me ache,
I will change and grow better,
As my soul wisens and matures,
But you must learn to accept
The mistakes and errors,
Because no one is perfect,
Let alone my soul.
Grammar.
They sit behind their monitors,
Huddled under a fleece.
Judging my words,
Those fucking Grammar Police.
I Create a Prose challenge
and use "me too" instead of "me either."
I'm jumped all over,
Trying to make me into a believer
That what I say and how I say it
Will be judged half empty, like a glass.
I have a better idea,
All ya'll can kiss my ass.
So take your their, they're and there,
and use them correctly.
Or else the GP will come
And make you feel like shit.
Did you read that last line and see what was wrong?
It didn't rhyme, oh hell. Guess I'll go hit my bong.
She Said..!
No bragging here, no need to boast
People listen coast to coast!
It could be, because I'm cute
I'm loud and funny, horn I toot
People see me on my way
They talk about the things I say
Hanging on my every word
Sometimes my meanings are not heard
I make the masses laugh a lot
The sense of humor that I got
I told I hoped my "X" would die
In a hot tub, drunk, so I
Instead divorced his sorry ass
Now all know my sorted past
I think sometimes that I could tell
My friends at work a certain smell..
Lead me to find dead bodies where
A lake had washed up bones and hair
The whole thing with my tips and clues
Would be the front page of the news
My predictions always heard
People hang on every word
Judgmental people feast
The nature of the beast
Three words
"I don't know."
"What is happening?"
"I think that--"
"Maybe we should--"
(Give me something)
(Boast about me)
"Your greatness is--"
(Blinding, deafening, crippling)
Abstract words, abstract faces
Its the little things that
push (me) you away
"I like you."
("I love you.")
All it takes;
neglect.
©SelfTitled, 2017
Prufrock
Would it be worth it, after all,
After the drafting and the editing,
the careful words typed in silence,
Would it have been worth while,
to have parodied a better man,
to say "I am a senseless unoriginal hack,
here to show you all the words I can throw on a page."
If some reader drifting by would glance across these words and think
"This is the worst fucking thing I've ever read, he doesn't get the poem at all."
Would it have been worth it, after all,
if some reader having opened it and read it through,
would shake their head and mutter to themselves,
"Was the second stanza really necessary?"
And would it have been worth it, after all,
if this is just glanced at as people scroll past,
and my pointless hope that this is any good proves unrewarded,
as your silent judging voices wake me and I drown.
Speech
Society, I disagree--
Haha, I mean
I'm just joking
My hand, it slipped
The ink, it dripped
I didn't mean to
Send that message
Please pardon my grave
Transgression
But, no, you know what?
Those words I wrote
Were no mistake
I'll not take back
The things I think
I'm sorry if I am
Offensive
I try to see from each
Perspective
If I'm offending you
Do let me know
So my words can be
More effective
But if you're just trying
To silence me
Let me remind you
I have the freedom of speech
But hypocrites criminalize
My opinion
While they're campaigning for people
To be more accepting
Call me whatever you want
The only way you'll shut me up
Is to hand my soul to God above
Which means my work on earth is done
Good riddance!
Wax
You yellow as you fade,
lips the color of the candles
now unlit beside our bed
(mood lighting).
I offer words you'd say
if your voice had not been stolen
by tubes and wires, but I show them
a stranger.
They cannot carve your spirit
to the shape that they remember,
while I stand with you as witness, cold
and brittle.
I wait until they rule against me,
leave to let me serve my sentence,
to hold your waxen fingertips
and melt.