Just for today, I'd like to write a poem
Since I don't know when, or where - I will die
Still when I live, I at times forget to
Live and really let lose, and see the sky

Because when troubles, bear down upon me
And when depressions, have fallen on me
Then come the sessions, when I don't see
All of the blessings that rain down by me

I have the choices, to take good care
Of these sessions, that seasons share
If I just let them, let them get near
I won't forget them, or seize to bear

All of these burdens, they are my storm
They are the blankets, that keep me warm
And out of them, my life is born
They let me manage, and let me form

All that is true, to me and you
All what is real, all which I do
And the impression, that I am fine
Is in it's essence, a lie divine

Poetry by Me

Each design is a part of mind
Each line is but a part of mine
Each verse has it's own a place in time
Each phrase has a potent phase in rhyme

Each sign is an evasive climb
Each crime is a unwinding bind
Each string is an ownminded thing
Each whine of mine, defines divine

Poetry

Poetry by Me

I see but I don't mind
The whispers reach me - time
Stands still as in confined
To the three stages of life

To live you try not to think
To try you defy common life
What is this world we live in
A constant and underlying strife

To reach the rest, complete the test
Not leave the street, yet be the best
We like to live, we like to stress
We want much more, we need no less

Live by the day, the wisemen say
Live for the future, find your way
And mind the past, remind yourself
That you chose your own, path at last

Poetry by Me

Some days I can type without end, I type so fast I type and send
My visions past the lines that lend, this world its stable balance

Without these lines there is no right, there is no day, there is no light
There is no left, or life insight, these lines are all that keeps us quite

Keep us in shape, they keep us clear, they let us take our quake of care
They quote our wake, their sake is here, they stake our lifes, linger in pairs

We let them out with rage about, it seems in dreams they sparkle and sprout
Like cabbages, ravage, slowly grow and leap, out of ground in which they keep

Turmoil down and hapiness ablaze, I see the smile still stings your suddle face
A serious life, what a shame, what a waste, what a cast, what a place, what

Is malice

Poetry by Me

The world is grey
The world is green
The world it sways
Great lengths obscene

I type so quick
I type so fast
That it now seems
It starts at last

It starts and ends
Departs in parts
In heart it sends
It's sense apart

It lends a dart
I throw it past
The decade of
The blatant last

The world is grey
The world is green
The world is great
It whirls, it means

So much to me

Poetry by Me

The cabbage is fresh
The cabbage is wet
It's forms I caress
Their circles I pet

The cabbage is dipped
Fully drenched in outlet
Upon it's green blood I sipped
My dinner banquette

Poetry by Me

The world is not what it seems to be
Gold it shines, and it gleams indeed
It sparkles and whines and leans agreed
Against the great worlds economy

The bank is banked, it has its stead
Believed it's free, the gold leaves to sea
The bank is angry, it leaps to meet
The gold that bleats of trial diceat

It tries to slice the gold right in two
But with arms of paper it lies in view
With broken bones, agony undertoned
It loaths alone for ample decades

It grows like foam, then pops and fuzzles
Away, away, awither

Poetry by Me

I see the trees
I see the sky
I see the life
It passes by

I sit inside
I sid and hide
Behind my curtains
Blind with pride

I see the grass
I see it wave
I see the birds
And try to save

I try to savor
The memory gained
A painsome flavor
For some retained

I see the wind
I hear it wail
I sense the ocean
Ships set sail

But mine stands still
Upon clear ground
And waits for will
By which it's bound

A solace haunted
By verbal malice
The madess taunted
My dreams in need

The grace I wanted
A herbal palace
All to me daunted
By dreams beyond

Poetry by Me

I've written a long and great deal of lines
In for now but a fourth of the year
I suppose I will write more justice confined
For the other four fourths that appear

Now I'd just like to let you all know
About the onehundred poems I typed
So that you may say, "Ah, is it so!"
And feast upon verses both day and night

Because truly when the light is right
The wordsconcieve without remorse
All the things that no victory can convict
And which be shattered by no force

In celebration of a hundred, this verse
I proclaim in my listning, before second, a first
And a great big feast I expect at the least
For this greatness my months have diverged

Your liddable illdness by scribble

Poetry by Me

I am glad to say!
That this very day!
I wrote a verse!
And it came to play!

And this verse written!
The very one you read!
Is the same verse bitten!
In my brains! This weed!

It spreads like a plague!
It rains when I bleed!
It's lace is in vivid red!
And I am but a seed!

A seed of it's tower!
The capsule of life!
Not with all my power!
Can I let it strife!

Away from me.

Poetry by Me