#poetryrant

[generoushottubnacho-blog]

My Muse

How do you choose?

Between your blood and your muse

No matter what you do, you will lose,

Either a family or a friend and it’s all up to me in the end.

No one believes they all think me crazy.

But I am standing up for the humble human who held me up when I was

Near death and dirt poor.

Blood does not define who you are it is just a small part of the life that is mine.

The people who are there the ones who support and never judge

Those are the people who will never even budge.

��B d.

[generoushottubnacho-blog]

Growing

Anger resides inside it hides

In my heart in my sides

It waits, growing, adding up

Slowly over time my mind breaks down,

Each event adding up onto each other,

Pressure so much pressure,

Finally there is a fissure, a small crack the side of a line

All the time is grows and grows

Not letting me rest just giving me bad health at last.

Finally I blow, a volcano is my heart, and a blazing flame is my words.

Fists may fly and all my family may ask why

And I will say

Because I don’t have the strength to try.

All they want is to hurt people until they die,

But that just awakens the beast within me and soon I will have to use all the strength given to me.

Anger resides slowly it will rise

Until the final moment and at that second when I will say goodbye.

T9ߠ�x�d/

[generoushottubnacho-blog]

Remember the Living

The poetry of those who have passed is always praised, those who are still alive tend to be lead astray. Who invented this method, this silent truth? Why do we have to think this way? I think and feel in my heart that this notion has got to go.

We need to celebrate the living, though we still remember the dead, we need to tell aspiring artists, writers, poets and musicians that they will be noticed and that their works are important. They need to be remembered while they are still here because in this moment is where we live, the now and the here. 

[mushroom-shushroom]

Netflix

I need to get out

 Of this town

And see the sea

But you see…

I’m too preoccupied

To realise

It might be a waste of time

To turn on…

 Netflix

Watch a chick flick,

A new series?

Although I’m currently

Watching three

Simultaneously.

 There’s action

And adventure,

A gay bit

And documentaries

Most of which I’ve seen

But that’s okay with me

Because I’d rather re-watch everything

Than get up and leave.

 I haven’t seen the sun

In more than 3 days

But I’m not too worried

Cause next up

Is Rupaul’s Drag Race!

 There’s simply no place

I’d rather be

Than stretched out

In front of that widescreen,

Cup of tea

A pile of toast

Cause I know how to make the most

Of my perfectly functioning body

 So, fuck physical activity

I want to watch Adventuretime on repeat,

And then maybe we’ll go out-

No shit let’s watch more Dexter!

There’s like 8 series

Can you believe it?

I just have to see it!

 I can’t tear my eyes away of from the screen

Apart to maybe

Scroll through facebook,

Browse a buzzfeed

That oh-my-god so totally relates to me…

 Next up…

Instagram,

Tumblr,

Then twitter

Time to

hashtag away my living dreams

‘Cause that’s just how I do

So

Fuck you

Outside world

And sunsets

Picnics with old friends.

And coffee shops,

Walks in the park,

Conversations

About who we are.

 And social interactions

Can suck my dick

 Cause I’ve forgotten how to be

A functioning member

Of society,

In fact

I don’t need to be

Because the whole world

Is condensed in my Samsung mini.

 Quick!

Take a selfie!

You know

I haven’t moved in a week?

I like to call it

Lazy chic

 #agrophobiaisthenewblack

#there’snogoingback

#everyoneiknowisfuckingmad

 #hashtag

[acelticshadow]

Wow...

When that awkward moment hits you and you realize that things have been over far longer than you had previously thought,

More than a year, and it only bring to fruition new grief and wrought,

That fresh twinge of ache in what was finally numb of pain,

When you thought that gripping had finally released its reign.

It's like every step forward is three steps back,

Each let down more daunting than a heart attack,

But you raise your head high, and stop asking why,

And let old memories fade off into black.

It's more than about time, though that isn't as clear;

It's about swallowing pride and confronting your fear

And freeing what ought be freed,

Releasing yourself of childish needs,

Of what we obsessed over four years past,

Over something so fleeting and never meant to last,

Because nothing lasts forever, not even time,

Not even this rant, written sloppily in rhyme.