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ive been thinking lately as i walk along
looking at the world all the right and wrong
all the chaos and the hateing
all the crying mothers waiting
i wounder if theres any point to it anymore
that people are only human whether rich or poor
we shouldnt judge by how we look on the outside
but on there feelings and thought on the inside
then i stop and ponder all my memories past
and remember all the ones that will last
every day that i smiled and those days that i cryed
those lozers that cheated those creeps that lied
and i think was i worth the heartache all the misused trust
it wasnt true love only simple lust
i think of times i spent with old friends
all those mad days out, and chillin on a weekends
i think of the picture all those silly little poses
i think we should all stop to smell the roses!
my poem: lost in a dream
lost in a dream
im woundering a silence shadow in the night
confused in myself and my surroundings
puzzled at my whereabouts alone in the light
trying to find the right path
serching for the door to leave
walls are tightening
im struggling to breathe
my luck is grim
and the wind is chiling
and the sky is dim
i hear footsteps behind me
i look but see no1 there
i run and peer from behind a tree
then something grabs me from behind me back
some horrid beast coming to attack
i try to scream but with no prevail
it try to struggle
the beast lets out a hidieous wail
my eyes are open
my heart is dead
i cant feel the thoughts in my head
where i am i cant keep track
a bright light then just black
rockers life
work all day
party all night
only sleep at first light
everything is going right
earn little pay
dont really care
dancing with stranger
not thinking of the dangers
i live to be a dare
like to feel the wind in my hair
under pressure all the time
risen from the gutter the dirt and the grim
on top of my self living on the edge
looking over that building ledge
running all over confused and alone
it wont be my name on that gravestone
live for the buzz of the crowd
i sometime just have to scream aloud
sceam into the mic and bang on the drums
waiting for the chance grab it when it comes
dont give a damn
never stick to the plan
playin my guitar
cus im a hardcore rock star
rockers life
the roses
roses are red
violets are blue
you say you love me
but i know its not true
daffordils are yellow
and daisies are white
can you lok me in the eyes and say
is alright
now the flowers have died
and weeds have taken place
you will be forgot
and soon to be replaced
<>-->
the roses
my personal slave
lisas poem
I'm making my brother my personal slave,
so now when I greet you my brother will wave.
He'll do all my homework; he'll take all my tests.
He'll clean up my messes and wait on my guests.
He'll hold out my hanky whenever I sneeze.
He'll say that he did it if I "cut the cheese."
He'll go take a bath if I play in the dirt.
He'll eat all my spinach, then feed me dessert.
He'll empty the garbage and vacuum the floors
and finish my other unsavory chores,
like washing the dishes and mowing the yard
or anything else even modestly hard.
I really enjoy all the effort I save
by making my brother my personal slave.
And though I'll admit how exciting it is,
I'm not sure it's worth it, 'cause next week I'm his.
my pet tomato
also lisas
I bought a pet tomato
and I tried to teach him tricks,
but he wasn't any good at
catching balls or fetching sticks.
He could never catch a Frisbee,
and he wouldn't sit or speak,
though we practiced every afternoon
and evening for a week.
He refused to shake or wave or crawl
or beg or take a bow,
and I tried, but couldn't make him bark
or get him to meow.
He was terrible at playing dead.
He couldn't jump a rope.
When he wouldn't do a single trick
I simply gave up hope.
Though I liked my pet tomato,
I returned him with regret.
Boy, I sure do hope this watermelon
makes a better pet.
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