Personification

Personification

Personification

That light.
That God. Damned. Light
Everyday, it sees me coming and,
right at the last minute,
turns red. Every time!
I swear.

And the the weather, the air
Chilling only the days
when I’m working,
or raining when it obviously
knows there’s something
I wanna do out there.

Then there’s my car,
that useless piece of junk,
gives me hell on when I don’t need it to,
and breaks down when my bonus
finally comes through.

And then there’s life, that bastard-
Always against me, like fate.
Unforgiving, unyielding,
and straight up unfair.

_______________________________________________________

Monday again, Folks. I’m hoping that yours is working well for you. Got a little something else for you to browse if you’re needing a break, too. http://www.pinterest.com/Procrastitorian/make-monday-a-little-easier/

Pipers

Piper

Piper

Though we all must pay
the piper,
the man with a thousand
upon a thousand names,
we don’t have to dance to
his gilded tune
masters of fate all,
we can craft and fall
into our own
games.

Byron Quote

Byron Quote

Byron Quote

Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast,
Is that portentous phrase, “I told you so,”
Utter’d by friends, those prophets of the past,
who, ‘stead of saying what you now should do,
Own they foresaw that you would fall at last…

-Byron: Don Juan. Canto xiv. St. 50

Doing It Yourself

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They say that if
you want something
done right
you’ve got to
do it yourself
but I
am getting tired
of rise work shine
and wondering when
someone else will
have their turn
heavens know there’s
enough for them still
to do.

_____________________________________________

Well it’s Monday again, folks. If you’re in need of a little pick me up, here’s a little link to my pintrest account. Got a little board filled with some funny stuff in hopes that it might make Monday a little easier to deal with.

http://www.pinterest.com/Procrastitorian/make-monday-a-little-easier/

Medium

Medium

Medium

Some search for ghosts in
attics and between
stones
but writers know
to raise the dead
you only have to
paint their words
upon
your tone

She’s Fiction

She's Fiction

She’s Fiction

She’s fiction from nails
to knees
laughs in texts of haha
and heehee
writes every look hair
recorded down in her
mind
fears the critics most
and their reviews of
her life
she’s pushing out prose
and drowning in dyes
inks to cover up flaws
pocks
life

Rise and Pine

Photo for rise and pine poem

Rise and Pine

Long ago, oh, long ago!
Where for art thou, long ago?!
Deny my present and refuse
thy fate,
or, if thou wilts not,
then just give me a break!
because every Monday I’ve
grown to hate
the garish light that
through that damned
yonder window
breaks.

________________________________

Ohhh, Monday again. Sorry to say, folks, but we’ve got another work week head. That’s alright though because, hopefully, you’re starting it off with this little poem. Though I’d give it a go. Been a while since I slaughtered a bit of the bard’s prose. Here’s to hoping it gives you a smile, that your day flies by, and that you’ve got something cold and on the rocks waiting for you when you get home tonight.

 

Purist for Destruction

Purest for Destruction

Purest for Destruction

Blank screens aren’t
anything and, sure,
keys clack but they
won’t crumple
I need destruction
when my words won’t
work for me
and metal and glass
simply
don’t buckle like
they should.

_______________________________________

It’s short, it’s sweet- It’s Friday. Welcome to your weekend, folks. You made it another week out and alive. Got to writing the one above when I had a bit of writer’s block going on. I have a three step process. I write it down on paper first, then I write it down in a NotePad doc, and then I transfer it to here. Sure, that seems like a little overkill but there is just something about being able to crumple up a piece of paper and toss it at a cat that makes me feel a little easier about going at another draft.

 

Well, as always, I hope your weekend is long, your drinks are cold, and that Monday comes and finds you roaring and ready to go.

Stage Left

Stage Left

Stage Left

A life taken
isn’t lost
just say it like
it is
they left-
a final bow
a curtain call
performed at their own
behest.
_____
Hey, happy Wednesday, folks. Hope your week is going well. So this poem above is a little of a darker theme. Still, I hope it makes the point I was hoping it would. Sometimes, for various reasons, a person feels the need to bow out. For whatever reason that was their choice and, well, we should tell it like it is. When someone says ‘what happened’ we should answer simply with ‘they left’.

Monday Scrap

Monday Scrap

Monday Scrap

Well the air I breath
it’s killing me
the food I eat
ain’t much kinder
and the daily routine
doc says burning me
so I strive to find
just got to find
that fated line where
my fire’s lit
and my time
is time.
__________________________

Yeah, I know- It’s Monday again, folks. Well, I got this nice little scrap to toss up above. It is one of my notes labeled ‘possible Monday poem’ so I figured I’d go on ahead and toss it on up there. I’m sure you get the feeling of it but I just gotta pound it out a little more and add a bit more cadence to it before it drums to my liking.

Well, as always, here’s to hoping your day flies on by and that you’ve got something cold and on the rocks waiting for you when you go home tonight.

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