Designated Doodler

You are a poem that breathes Words living in lungs that heave Hot breath across your lips The bows of which comprise a sonnet Your tongue a crimson harp With never-ending verse upon it Your skin is alight with a fever Burning bright from the meter That dances along Every word and phrase  Composing the song that sings in your brown eyes You are a poem and I a paradox You a ballad and I blank verse It is only through you that I keep time In the rhythm of your heart There is hope I'll find my rhyme

Why you here? Goodbye. Why write, why try? You don't have the time Just go to bed Didn't you know That poetry is dead? That nobody wants that shit if it don't rhyme If it's not for a grade What's the point, who has the time? Didn't no one tell you - Poetry is gone The death breath of English Only alive in song Well not really Not anymore Not for long Don't you know That cool kids don't care if it's a way to crawl into someone else's skin if it's a way to look at humanity And for once in your life see kin To feel something you've never felt To deal with things you've never dealt Searing pain and burning joy Wicked loss and undying love That stands the test of time - survives the years And gives you the chance To cry humanity's immortal tears Nah, it's silly, it's dumb Let's get lost in lazy It's easy, it's numb English is gone Didn't they tell you? It died. Some people s...

I speed through the night Under the slice of streetlights Dark light, dark light, Until I reach a patch A hole that's pitch black A row of lights are off The cavernous gap it creates Eats the light around it Digesting the ease of passers by Eerily ominous It stares without eyes It sees my headlights But doesn't absorb the light It's a reminder that the night Is only lit because we make it From the live wires that transmit And the light bulbs that we keep lit And without what we've placed in it The night is a dark pit That swallows up the silence and all who wade in it   Photo from revdavidneuen.blogspot.com  

I admit I was duped But you were the one that stooped So low that it was  Child's play to deliver the blow I probably should have known You were lying Your lips were moving Your mind devising A plan to look out for its own A crooked smile And warm brown eyes The perfect visage For a traitorous guise You weaved a tangled web And didn't expect me To catch you stupid and empty And decipher your twisted head In the end, doing what I do best Pulling one over  on you instead.