Rough poet

Creative lyrics poems and information

[roughpoet111]

“Fixture in My Mind”

Oh, that fixture in my mind—

A wild ride through a creative eye, designed

To bend time, twist rhyme, and blow minds,

Takes a minute... then it takes it all in kind.

Am I blind?

To the hue of a subtle slew,

Where whispered magic words

Bust out from deep inside you.

Mind explodes—

It's criminal.

Mumbled underbreath, habitual,

So no one hears the cynical,

Echoing silent fears—

They're spiritual,

But stuck in the stereo between my ears.

I lost the fear of caring

'Bout all them people staring—

Now I’m flaring,

Original, rare in

A world that’s too scared to be daring.

Melodically built

On the ashes of guilt,

Spillin' lines that the silence once spilt.

Without a sound, I rise from the ground,

Writing down storms where the thunder ain’t loud.

It’s just a few thoughts I jotted down,

Worn like a crown in this ghost-town sound.

And that fixture in my mind,

Yeah, that one I was given by design—

A divine sign

To put into kind words

What my overhearing heard.

So I speak in metaphors that punch through the walls,

Direct with my pronouns, breakin’ protocol.

You might call it madness,

I call it clarity,

We ain’t the same—I'm livin’ in rarity.

So when the silence screams, I sing it back loud,

I’m the outlaw dreamer thinkin’ out proud.

Abstract brilliance, ride that beat,

While the world whispers,

I bring heat.

[roughpoet111]

In numerology and spiritual contexts, the number sequence 11:11 (or 1111) is often considered an "angel number," signifying a message from the universe or guardian angels

[roughpoet111]

[roughpoet111]

"Send Her By"

I woke up with this ache, deep down in my soul,

Like a cowboy lost, without his heart, not whole.

Missin' somethin’ steady, missin’ somethin’ true,

A woman so fine, no matter what she do.

She's tough like saddle leather, but gentle as the dawn,

With a glow that outshines the high mountain morn.

Got a fire in her eyes, a confident gleam,

She’s the kind you only meet in a perfect dream.

Her voice is a melody, soft like a creek’s song,

It settles my spirit, just rolls me along.

She’s the whole dang package, a prize sent above,

And lovin’ her, darlin’—that’s a lifetime of love.

Caught myself starin’, just standin’ in the street,

Her picture in my hands, heart skippin’ its beat.

Cars rushin’ past, but time stood still,

‘Cause that woman’s smile bent the world to her will.

What’s happenin’ to me, Lord? This feelin’ so true,

I’d give all I got just to love her on through.

I wanna crown her queen, write her notes through the night,

Kiss her sweet lips and hold her so tight.

This ain’t no dream, nah—she’s real, I swear,

A woman like that, Lord, so fine and rare.

So if You hear me prayin’, from this lonesome sky,

Do me one favor... oh Lord, send her by.

[roughpoet111]

[roughpoet111]

5 posts!

[roughpoet111]

"Third Eye Smooth"

It’s simple to speak with kindness,

So why’s every argument laced with blindness?

You see something you don’t like —

So I ride by on my pink-ass bike.

In touch with my feminine side,

No shame, no mask, no need to hide.

Trust me, I’m not shy, not one bit,

First hetero man in eyeliner — I commit.

You picked the wrong soul to con,

I'm the truth that you preyed upon.

Inferior? Nah, that’s your view —

But I’ll surprise the hell outta you.

Supernatural, third eye smooth,

Flow like water, got nothing to prove.

No fake blame, no shame in my name,

Sit down now, I'm takin' names.

Class in session, time to speak,

Bleed your aggression, make you weak.

For every scar you placed on me,

Now you're the one who has to see.

Revenge for crimes that you commit,

Now stand up, coward, admit your shit.

To the people in the dark, still hateful,

Gathering lies like it’s something faithful.

Gossip runnin’ wild like a storm,

But I’m the eye — calm and warm.

Injectin’ that venom right back at you,

Right where you sleep, in your dark bedroom.

Now sleep, evil one, day's through

God just saw, and God bled you.

[roughpoet111]

[roughpoet111]

[roughpoet111]

"Throttle Sermon (Highway Ghosts)"

There was a time—

yeah, I wore the sky like armor,

thought I couldn’t bleed,

playin’ chess with gravity,

two wheels lit in wildfire speed.

Odds were just smoke in the mirror,

I was the cause—

death-defyin’, chrome-cryin’ rebel applause.

Throttle cracked wide,

that 114 howled like a beast baptized,

spinnin’ sermons in steel,

pipes preachin’ in metallic tongues—

hammer down, feelin' unreal.

Eyes locked forward,

three feet left of breath,

my shadow rode a mirror—

blood-bond in leather flesh.

No bars hold,

just formation faith,

I could reach through the wind

and touch fate’s face.

A dangerous Zen,

where silence screams,

and speed writes psalms

in rubber and steam.

We ain’t racin’ to win,

we’re dancin’ with sin—

highway to hell

but we ride with a grin.

‘Cause I—

I feed on that death-born fuel,

a pulse that mocks the grave,

alive in the chaos,

not caged, not saved.

Death?

That’s a concrete tomb,

inside a building of souls—

no throttle, no room.

Trapped in the hum

of fluorescent gloom.

But I’m the unspoken howl,

the whisper in the tailpipe storm,

brotherhood’s ghost,

a lone-wolf swarm.

I am leader,

I am prophet,

I am the fire in the silence

when the engine won’t stop it.

A motherf***in' hymn

in the oil-stained dust—

don’t follow me,

just ride,

and trust.

[roughpoet111]

:

"The Glow Beneath the Fray"

There’s a hollow stitched in linen—

pennies whispered out like secrets

from the place where jingle once echoed,

but silence now hums.

Didn’t matter, not really.

Someone else caught the fall—

that shadow with the wind-chapped grin,

bare bones wrapped in tattered denim,

zipper grinning wide like a busted smile.

He asked if the drop belonged to me.

I said, No… I think it found the right hands."

Scruff and sunburn,

laugh thick like molasses joy,

he wore kindness like a patch on his sleeve.

Eyes fogged with wine-hued glass,

still brighter than some who sleep with roofs.

Then—

other side,

the forgotten fold:

a paper forest,

sixty leaves deep.

Still there. Still safe.

And somehow, I didn’t mind,

‘cause light walked beside me—

not the kind with polished shoes,

but the kind that glows through cracks and cardboard walls.

Couldn’t picture him following me—

not the way dreams follow silence,

not with those threadbare footsteps

gathering fallen stars

like they meant more to the ground

than to the hand.

See, it ain’t in the mirror,

ain’t in the hem.

It’s the soul’s flare,

burning through dust and denim.

Bravest ones don’t beg for light—

they become it,

even when the world

calls them broken.