Let the ninja poems commence. AKA Im bored, I did this in class, and it's my escape from the current new chapter I'm struggling with.
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LOVING YOU
Waking in the morning,
To your colossal snoring,
It's more than I could've dreamt,
That I should be so lucky an angel was sent,
Tousled covers consume you,
Your lucrative locks an autumn's hue,
Echoing of our late moon laughs,
Sloshing honey ails on our childish crafts,
Unsure if to snuggle up to your bad breath,
That you'd wake with alcohols cerebral death,
Spouting about our mistake filled nightmare,
Though to be fair as we lay bare,
You aren't that man who would bed and take,
And as soon as you wake,
With one sleepy green speckled eye,
First thing you say is how you're such a lucky guy.
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THE WAR WAS IN COLOUR
The war has been prolonged and predictable,
Muddy men die sunrise till sunset,
Some clean their guns gregariously,
As if it's just a briefcase full of analytics,
Others be bloody and brains blown to bits,
Lost between losing their souls and minds combined,
Tanks roll through smoking with explosives,
Two returning lads collapse and spit collective curses,
Evil sees fresh pawns for their games of chess,
To send men off to deaths dismiss,
Used by talkers dressed in political power suits,
Untouched, unscathed, unwelcomed,
Spending soldiers faster than bullets land,
And today is no different,
You will see,
Survive or die; to some there is no difference,
Now hurry boy, pick up a gun and run.
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SEEK FORGIVENESS
For forgiveness; to see spirals of sewn stitches fixing my selfish ways,
Promising acceptance against a pretentious past I cannot change,
To corral and capture change and all its habitual habits,
Believe in reaction as action, I who screams at the reflection of my father,
If I force surrender, it's against my bullied brothers bruised curses,
Roaring a protest for what is right, to ignore what I didn't know was wrong,
Rather than fight every fright that needn't be fought,
To succumb to the brash brains of others when I've done wrong,
As apology; admitting and splitting my past from my future.
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SIGN THAT LINE
One last time, I sign a dotted line with my own bleeding bloody thumb,
Time again my hammering heart has been damaged by that dancing stroke,
Ready to revoke all revolutionary privileges, claiming not insane,
Subdued as I preach pretentious, that the pure has done me no harm,
Quietly awake, shaking, repenting with scars on my cheeks from nails too weak,
Conforming to frigid thoughts that ware and tear at my being,
Inscriptions to my prescriptions for the paranoid person,
Blurring the rising tide ripping into my carefully crafted being,
Contamination left shriveling inside a self-contained box,
Crammed in the corner is I, the last stable alive,
Worried I won't remember the end in which I'll hopefully mend.
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AN UNSUBTLE LOVE
I bequeathed mine love upon thee at the ripe age of 23,
You relayed no interventions against my thick wills and thin bills,
I insisted we courageously court an imaginative interview,
Conducted by either I or you, if thou sweet stares may bewitch us immortal, to crane our crowns in favor of living eternally entwined. You confessed to your encumbered nature of long due devotion for mine rogue rouge heart,
That perhaps he'd hire himself as husband of humor to I his witty wired wife.
Us casually swallowing aged grape until the bird song of morn, we perpetually let peace persuade our parents, and greeted our giddy skipping sailors tune at the altar.
Jack and Jack as we both be jokers, met mouth to mouth, I do to I do, wed in warlock, marriage unable to subdue thou's unsubtle love of two.
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Im on chapter 3 of my new book and omg I love ittttt. Slow progress = good writing