Rubbish Poem

Nothing is guaranteed in this
I haven't decided what I wanted to do with my life
I don't have many years left to decide
By the age of 24 I thought I'd have it all figured out
I'm more lost than I ever have been
I'm so hopelessly grabbing hold something 
Interesting to happen in this world
That reality isn't the truth anymore
It's going on ten years since I met her 
That means next year she'll be gone for ten
I don't know what I'm trying to say 
I think this poem is rubbish
So here's to of the dumb little boy
That swore he would never fall in love again
But wasn't that just a lie he told himself 
How could know that he would find a girl to change that
Only to be waiting for her until the end of his life


◄ Space Cowboy 16 Vacant Equation

Maybe ►


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Thu 7th Feb 2019 11:05

I never agree with changing anything but Po is right in his words.

Me too, love. Me too. Mine is gone too.

You know them and they leave and it just blows your world into pieces.

Twin flame?

It seems like so many of us have them here.

Just a thought.



Sat 2nd Feb 2019 08:01

I can relate to that old mate.

Mine just seem to go

da de da de da de da
de da de da de da

da de da de da de da
da de da de da.

I feel the whole point of poetry is exactly that

we all say the same things about the same topics, subjects.
Using the exact same words just plonking them down in a different order on the page.

There is nothing new in life.... Except changing how we feel about it.

I get pissed when people say stuff like "pull yourself together"
Or get over it, him, her. whatever whomever 'it' is.

If we could we would... and then what would songwriters and poets have to write about?

Damon keep writing because you have not said what you want to say yet. How do know when we have?

We find another topic, perhaps one we never think about.
Or have not visited in a while.

Truths change as our understanding evolves what was rubbish yesterday becomes todays truth and light.

Your rubbish of today.. the exact same! Becomes another's poem of golden wisdom tomorrow my friend.

Trust, dare to dream, hope springs eternal. (that's a bloody long while). You have a wellspring of 'stuff'.

Slight change of subject

Our 'dump' is reclaiming 75% of rubbish... and selling it!
I might write a poem about the different coloured bins.

Nope better not that would be a real waste of my time

New Year, New Month, New day,


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Damon Blackery

Sat 2nd Feb 2019 00:10

I think it's rubbish it's the same poem I make every time I write something just said a different way.


Fri 1st Feb 2019 20:12

Damon the only thing rubbish about this is the title!

Rubbish this is NOT! It needs a new title.

Nay! It demands a new title.

I demand a new title

I am waiting

Have a talk to your self and see what you can come up with... please!


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