About you? silly nilly, what shades your eyes, Poetry like this is for all, in essence,for laughter or crys. about you in part, for in my life my soul did you inflame, with passion ignited it, embers of that blaze yet remain. But be not so harsh, and look not so fast, for this poem was not ment a sonnet, to a lover, to bring inflatuation, then groping, then a russle under covers. A story of stories, from my heart, mind and soul, experience is a nessesity, so yes of you, in THIS could find stole, for pleasentry, or pain, glipses of your life, put down in my words, but the words, be they of you, or not, told only through conjecture, be blured.
again i reply... stop it. stop with the poems and the "expression" talk like a normal human being. i ment what i said jay, and i am worried that you will never live normaly again because of me...
Open your eyes, and stop trying to understand, you know me not, have seen me not, poetry is ment for expression, for me true, but also to provoke emmotion, but damb, cork that bottle of not but assumuption.
you have no basis for your accusations, made without hesitation, or even a chat over breakfast after prior conversation, You assume more then your you know, and know less then you can understand, and understand only parts due to time passing, and those parts though few are like crumbs in a pizza box at a stoners party, so stop it you know me not, if thats what you feel is inside me.
Focus Jay! Focus!pink4382July 26 2002, 01:14:35 UTC
why are you getting angry? why cant you just be real with me for once. im trying to be nice here and you are giving me shit. jay, talk to me... be honest with me i am worried about you. this has nothing to do with me ego, or "spitfire" attitude. i am trying to communicate with you and you are pushing me away... again...
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Poetry like this is for all, in essence,for laughter or crys.
about you in part, for in my life my soul did you inflame,
with passion ignited it, embers of that blaze yet remain.
But be not so harsh, and look not so fast,
for this poem was not ment a sonnet, to a lover,
to bring inflatuation, then groping, then a russle under covers.
A story of stories, from my heart, mind and soul,
experience is a nessesity, so yes of you, in THIS could find stole,
for pleasentry, or pain, glipses of your life, put down in my words,
but the words, be they of you, or not, told only through conjecture, be blured.
Reply
Reply
you know me not, have seen me not,
poetry is ment for expression, for me true, but also to provoke emmotion,
but damb, cork that bottle of not but assumuption.
you have no basis for your accusations, made without hesitation,
or even a chat over breakfast after prior conversation,
You assume more then your you know,
and know less then you can understand,
and understand only parts due to time passing,
and those parts though few are like crumbs in a pizza box at a stoners party,
so stop it you know me not, if thats what you feel is inside me.
Reply
Reply
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