tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22990423612192185092026-09-23T08:49:57.666-04:00Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-86977065618670599502026-09-23T01:04:30.721-04:002026-09-23T08:49:57.666-04:00

I'm so fucking lonelyAlmost every day,And so I self-medicate,To numb the pain away.I didn't want a roommate,It's not what I signed up for,And it's not enough for me -I need so much more.I need the love we used to have,I need a partner and a friend,Someone to share our ups and downs,Until the very end.I thought that we'd be lost togetherAnd together find our wayBut now it seems that we're just

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-77231411115832199412016-02-20T00:19:00.001-05:002016-02-20T00:19:03.481-05:00

A year is way too long a time, To not have written you a rhyme, I had no clue it's been so long, But knowing now, it just seems wrong That in this year of stress at home, I didn't even write one poem. But as bad as that does make me feel, I blame it on this world that's real. The one with cars and trees and people and stuff, Where no matter what you do it's never enough, And there's always shit

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-65278382372689275932015-02-14T20:00:00.000-05:002015-02-23T08:48:11.156-05:00

Twas more or less four years ago, When Cupid raised his trusty bow, And shot an arrow in the air (That brought you to my northern lair.) Since then we've had our ups and downs, We've had our in-betweens, Our home is filled with smiles and frowns (And all those pesky teens.) This verse will not go rambling on, The way I sometimes do, A few more lines and I'll be done (And later, so will you.)

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-50608911479013635172014-06-20T01:22:00.001-04:002014-06-21T10:46:19.224-04:00

We arrived  here in chaos, and left here in kind, And though we seemed to be flying blind, We've landed there safely, if somewhat confused, Running on adrenaline (caffeine infused). So I sit here alone, at this grey folding table, Writing this verse, because I'm not able, To leave here without a few words of adieu, Now it's time to pack up and get home to you.    

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-37486895649976769622014-05-03T22:00:00.000-04:002014-05-05T22:40:48.446-04:00

Three years and a few months ago, my life began anew, When in its way as it will do, the World led me to you, And we embarked upon a road, you and I together, That's had its share of twists and turns and good and stormy weather. This year we set out on a quest, in which we sure did roam Up and down so many streets, until we found our home , And as we settle in that place, and into our new life,

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-21809692671827535322014-04-29T04:50:00.000-04:002014-05-02T20:44:59.142-04:00

I've not much to write now, and not much to say, But it seems that that last was quite full of dismay, Which hardly seems fitting to lead to the next, So here a short bridge of these few lines of text. They serve no real purpose, except to provide, A few rhyming stanzas that create a divide, 'Tween winter's lament, in its depth of despair, And the spring on its way, with its breath of fresh air.

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-72143692521984607082013-12-15T12:06:00.000-05:002013-12-15T12:06:41.410-05:00

No matter what I do, it's wrong, The more I try, the more I fail, I'd not felt that way for so long; Is it really time to bail? I never thought I'd wonder that, Could I have been so wrong again? When every effort just falls flat, It might be time to accept the end. I wrote the words above night last, When you said flat out, "no matter what", Which means, to me, the die is cast, No hidden "ifs"

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-80463971294108303972013-11-05T00:47:00.001-05:002013-11-05T00:47:37.372-05:00

The first cut was easy; he'd been asking for it for years. The second cut was disappointing, but better than nothing. The third cut was a little messy until a pro cleaned it up. The fourth cut took a lot of work, just about worth it in the end. The fifth cut was the quickest and most direct of all. The sixth cut came much sooner than had been expected. The seventh cut hit a snag, but made it

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-88212036629710915992013-08-11T22:41:00.000-04:002013-08-11T22:41:16.958-04:00

Driving through the rain in the middle of the night, Do we take the highway to the left or to the right? Our journey interrupted, detours all about, I wait here in the car while you get things sorted out. I look around the parking lot and mostly I see red, You've gone off to the other side you say in words unsaid, "Peek-a-boo" I answer you in words that go unheard, Though our plans have changed

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-24539692849775101932013-07-07T13:53:00.000-04:002013-07-07T13:53:04.528-04:00

A million tales, a thousand yarns, one giant ball of thread, The greatest pantry ever built, each morsel ever fed, Preserved for all eternity, the living and the dead, The stars that help to mark the way, the posts read and unread. We thought forever it would stand, for all time it would last, Bringing forth to future eyes, these views into the past, Until one day the note appeared, into the

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-38661184582823947412013-06-13T01:46:00.000-04:002013-06-13T17:46:10.637-04:00

I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had, We lived happily forever, so the story goes, But somehow we missed out on the pot of gold... I was going to do this, I was going to be that, I even made a bet that I would eat my hat, If I didn't achieve a particular goal, For which I am probably now too old.  Life is what happens to you, while you're busy making other plans... How

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-47389641012290373382013-05-16T22:19:00.000-04:002014-08-23T19:54:35.345-04:00

There once was an old fart named Jeffries, Who said, "We will not sell to hefties," So folks bought his old clothes, To hand them out on skid rows, Thus expanding his image so deftly. There once was an old fart from Fitch, Who had an unusual pitch: "If you're not cute and thin, Then for us you're not 'in', And for you we just don't give a stitch." There once was an old fart named Mike, Who said

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-32688026047862095922013-05-04T12:12:00.001-04:002013-05-04T12:12:22.303-04:00

00:15 Now you've reached that special age,The one where time stands still,When birthdays do not add a year,But stay under the hill.A woman, it is said in truth,Ages like fine wine,Except that wine does not remain,Forever thirty-nine. 10:35 Some gals are so afraid to age,That overnight their hair turns blonde,As if they could just stop the clock,With the wave of a magic colour wand.Grey hairs may

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-37487657541094890302013-03-28T01:08:00.000-04:002013-03-28T01:08:54.464-04:00

I sit at the same laptop that I sat at on that night, (Although two keyboards later) and I think that I should write, A poem, a song, or summat™ , to mark the great event: The beginning of the ending of existence so misspent . Yet if I could write a note to me and send it to the past, (Three years to the hour) I think that I would pass; What could I say that possibly might could make any sense,

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-44822396978899800952013-02-18T00:53:00.000-05:002013-02-18T12:52:38.181-05:00

Head hits the pillow, peace is not found, Mind full of chaos, thoughts spinning round. Not moving forward, no going back, Look for the light switch, all looks so black. Floor turns to eggshells, walls closing in, Deafening silence, beyond the din. Struggle to let go, words don't go free, Choking my heartbeat, can't let them be. Questioning things that, I thought I knew, Can't tell delusion,

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-32068356957117649052013-01-24T00:56:00.000-05:002013-01-24T01:05:04.355-05:00

To the ancient Romans, I + I = II, And "II" is just   Two "I"s stuck together.  But we are not ancient Romans, And "2" is not just Two "1"s stuck together. And though both "1"s be odd, They balance the "2" To make it even.  Thus "2" is more Than just two "I"s;   It is "We".      

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-53463503843189540852012-12-22T12:21:00.001-05:002012-12-22T23:30:39.451-05:00

It's winter here in Canada, four feet of effing snow, Way too much to plow, and way too much to blow, Equipment's acting wonky; fix one thing, another breaks, And as soon as all the snow is cleared, behold, here come more flakes. Of course I do love Canada, eight months of the year, But those four months of winter, I could stand not being here. I could see the snow in pictures, and say "It looks

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-58923763732360749442012-11-24T04:16:00.000-05:002012-11-24T04:16:22.959-05:00

It started as a fairy tale, told all in the 'verse; Where dreams come true and words go free, And two hearts beat in harmony, With no need to rehearse. Fairy tales have given way to cars and trees and things, Like kids and chores and bills and stuff, And clearly love is not enough, And words begin to sting. And just a little more each day, love gives way to fear, As we begin to ask ourselves,

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-91431546273755279292012-09-23T21:38:00.000-04:002012-09-23T21:38:36.923-04:00

Waiting for the phone call that I know is bound to come, Waiting for the day it will have all been said and done, Waiting for that moment of relief filled with regret, Waiting for for that phone call every day it's not come yet. Waiting for the phone call that I know is on it's way, Waiting for the sadness of a burden gone away, Waiting for the moment that is but a matter of time, Waiting for

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-6922941288366215292012-06-20T21:35:00.001-04:002012-06-21T07:39:36.455-04:00

Those lazy days of yesteryear, The weeks we spent in bed, Have since then passed into the realm, Of memories in our heads. The fairy tale did run its course, Real life has long set in, And sometimes we can't even hear, Our hearts above the din. The daily struggles that we face, So often wear us down, And it's not quite as funny now, When I do play the clown. It's not that I don't realize, How

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-81538567009674170632012-05-03T23:14:00.000-04:002012-05-03T23:14:01.873-04:00

10:06 A brown-eyed girl did just turn thirty-nine, Better with age, like a teaspoon of wine, So a Happy Birthday to you, For to my old eyes of blue, You'll always be that hot young chick of mine. 12:13 'Y a un fille de la rive sud, Je l'ai vu et j'ai dit «hé, c'est good». Aujourd'hui pour sa fête, 'Y a des poèmes dans ma tête, Au sujet d'la beauté qu'elle exsude 17:02 No Byron, nor Whitman,

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-73475957529464329522012-04-30T23:09:00.003-04:002012-04-30T23:47:02.394-04:00

Words on a screen are what brought us together, Words on a screen that we said to each other. Words on a screen, though not what we are made of, Words on a screen wove the first threads of our love. Words on a screen that marked each new event, Words on a screen that to our walls we sent. Words on a screen, words of yours and mine, Words on a screen, upon the line of time. Words on a screen,

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-73059394008022914022012-04-25T23:35:00.000-04:002012-04-25T23:35:18.231-04:00

It's our quattuordecimensiversary, A word I just invented; I looked it up on Wiki, And though it sounds demented, To come together in that way, The root words all consented. It times like these, when stress is high, Sometimes it does some good, To make up shit that sounds quite odd, And so I thought I would, In the hope that for a moment, It just might help your mood. It won't do much to deal

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-18449952257602987162012-04-05T10:28:00.000-04:002012-04-05T10:28:06.973-04:00

They hid all of Main Street away in a parking lot, Then built a new mall where the coffee goes stale in the pot, The rent-a-cops say, "You can't do this, don't do that;" The old folks don't stay long enough there to take off their hats. The spin doctor says, "It's not us, it's the way it was built, It's ornate and it's pretty, but the castle is built upon silt, That's why there's no running, or

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299042361219218509.post-46996126362099037532012-03-28T22:03:00.002-04:002012-03-29T07:34:37.962-04:00

Tzvetanka, Tatyana - these might be hot names, Shakylialbadoig might have fanned fantasy's flames, Betty Boop just might have a great pair of legs, And the googleverse might have its own share of begs. But all the world over, to the pyramids and back, Whatever those chicks have, there's one thing they lack, They'll never have me, for one thing that's true: Whoever they are, who they're not, is

Legacyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00550465920724934392noreply@blogger.com1