Social Tattoo

Tattoos are permanent
Maybe they are a reminder or a memory
Beauty is within
Your worth is beneath the skin

So then I ask you
Who is your tattoo artist?
Who are you letting ink your inner self?
Do you even know what they are writing?

Tattoos are permanent
So are harsh words
So are memories
So are dark regrets

Are these people adding lipstick with laughter?
Or smearing mascara with tears
Are they make up artists of beauty?
Or are they creating a clown

It’s your friends
Your family
And the people you let in
They tattoo your soul



I kept thinking it was my face or my body

But she looks no more lovely

So there is only one other thing it could be

It must be my personality

Which is scary

But you say all they say spoke of you with negatively?


I always built you up

It no longer taunts me, the break up

But I’m messed up

Cause all I do now is give up

Every guy I see I sum up

I don’t know to whom I must live up


So what has me all stressed

Is you left me for the best

When putting that to the test

They seem worse than the rest

Who would of guessed

Surly then I must be everything there is to detest


I’ll just learn how to be happy as me

I realised without you I’m free

I’ll work till i have the key

I’ll be come what people thought I couldn’t be

I’ll show them what they still can’t see

Till then Ill smile graciously

You have to wait

Wait until you are 18. Then they will respect your ideas and invention.

Finish high school. Then your opinions are worth listening to .

Get a degree. Then they’ll pay attention.

Get some work experience. So you know what you are talking about and what is true.


These are the whispers of the ones who told us we can be and do anything.

Telling us what world changers we must be.

Silently showing us to wait until we are 33.

By then the problems are far beyond saving.


When did the definition of youth change to ignorance.

When will all ideas be seen as possible intelegence.

When will thoughts be heard before image is all they see.

When will ageism be a thing of history.

A wicked Saturday

Why do I sit here drink in my left and a pen in my right
Why is it only sad poems I seem to write
Is it cause I feel loss greater than love
Is it cause rejection is a well fit glove
There are 2 of me tonight
The loving and the careless fight
The facts are the facts this is true
The only thing that changes is the glasses you see them threw

Game of Hearts

Valentines day is coming up so here is something on the games we play in love

Game of hearts

It’s a game

Of cards

King queen jake

And a joker

Its a game

Of the arts

A wink and a twich

A triple bluff will make you think

Its a game

Of hearts

Double or nothing

Win and loose

It’s a game

Of chance

A slip of the hand

Or an ace of spades

In this game

You must think fast

Or end up last

This is the game of hearts

The pursuit

Waking up into this world

Left me with unanswered questions.

What was the purpose to my existence?

I could not be a coincidence.

Where was the meaning in this madness

they call life?

I knew there was more to me

Then the textbook’s explanation

Maybe it’s because I’m from the x-generation

I searched for this missing piece of the puzzle

The unknown element

I absorbed books of knowledge

But my hunger for the truth was still unsatisfied

Google offered me advice

But all this did not suffice

I then went to a man as old as time

He told me what I seek is inside

Wondering what he could mean I strove to succeed.

The greatest artist or the best dressed?

Did I just have to be better than the rest?

Perhaps first team or even the highest IQ?

But as for what was still missing,

I had no clue.

Then sitting on the edge of the world

I began to see what life could have in store

What I was looking for

was not  something that one can find

Excellence is how you live

One day at a time

Kim’s Rose

A laugh carries more than a sound

And a letter holds more than a message

This is what I have found

In the wind a rose must have courage

Your life has potential

Far greater then start and end

You can be monumental

This world is yours to bend

A tear is made of more than water

And a hug gives more than heat

Some things have so much more to offer

They are slightly more discreet

I would pray to God for your future

But I see his hand on your soul and mind

I know His plan for you could not be richer

Your hearts desires in him you will find

There are more to dreams then sleeping

And more to a photo then a 2D image

No matter what life may bring

In the wind a rose must have courage

Puzzle Piece

It’s not going to work

It’s never going to work

Stop because I know it won’t fit

Can you not see it’s not a set?

Have you seen a fire burn on snow

Or calm in the middle of chaos?

How can I explain

How can I make you understand

Without causing you pain?

Some pieces are not meant to fit

That’s how they were made

No I don’t like seeing you squirm

As you draw out the pain

This is not my doing

It’s your persistence you must blame

It’s not that I find something wrong

Or that you coming on to strong

There is nothing you need to rearrange

I don’t find you strange

It just won’t fit

It’s too out of place

The pieces are to different

To different to change

Empty City

I don’t want to say this

I am no sadist

There is nothing to hide

I have tried.



We just do not suit

It feels like you have been put on mute



You need to work on your “me”

Before you try to know a “we”

It is something you must understand

Thought this I can’t hold your hand



I’m trying to be bold

But you’re an onion

With too many layers to unfold

Making my heart weigh a ton.



When I see you I feel pity

You look an empty city

Every building tall walls

And too many closed doors



I see your tiers aren’t clear

On your face like a stain

Is it fear

Or is it pain?

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