Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Omission of Dissonance
Natural flow of words my mind lets go. Without trying my brain ignition becomes composition. Such things like haste, and all time I waste. Who is pulling the trigger? Who is the happiest grave digger? Simple, I spew off words my mind construed. Do I really want to murder people with the God forsaken truth? So brutal it might rip their heads off and leave their bodies like a cooked noodle. Koo koo woo hoo, eat shit, love is the truth. All you leave behind are your deeds. Are they good or bad seeds? I'm happy to know what sadness tastes like. I'm stronger knowing what weakness breeds. Ya, eat shit if you plant bad seeds. I'm loyal as a dog, maybe why I walk in this fog. When it clears the sunlight glints off these fangs. Good Lord I'm strange. Beware I feel I've become an animal somehow. Do wrong near me they'll be nothing saving you now. We are all brothers and sisters and children of the same world. If you've come to hate, it is my fangs you won't appreciate. Remember, caring is what made me crazy. I'm a pacifist to a certain degree. Push me and the animal is the last thing you'll see.
By Garrett Jair Lang9 years ago in Poets
Who's Out There for Me
Who's out there for me, a king with no queen, at the point of not caring for ethnicity, just someone to lay by my side, a true ride or die, humble to the core, so many closed doors of opportunity pass me, so every night I'm left with lonely thoughts, these soulmate battles that constantly get fought, back and forth my conscious falls off my shoulder because of a love drought, scared of my loving turning to rot, if only I found her, life would be easy, who's out there for me.
By Anjalant nelson9 years ago in Poets
No More Lies
I once was told I was colored, I once was told I'm a Negro, Who soon became black labeled Afro. African-American what is that I ask? How could the truth change so many times? Who gave these labels I asked? If everyone on the planet has a nation where is mine. Because what you're calling my people, there is no land. So nationality has no bearing to man? Lies, lies and more lies. Yeah I know the truth. I'm Moorish-American descendant of Ruth. The big masonic secret kept for too many years. Slaves no longer in chains, slaves by mental fear. So tell that lie to somebody else. The gig is up you just lied to yourself.
By Fred Kendricks-El9 years ago in Poets
