Poems For Your Perusal: An Alphapoetical Half-Cycle

I started this cycle of alpha poetry over a week ago. To prove that I can finish what I started, here's the other half. Enjoy!


No strings attached
But I'm feeling the pull.
Feeding me lies
But I don't like the bull.
Give me the details
I'll write you a song.
This is the short of it
I don't belong.


On the same page

We both agree

That what it is

Is wrong, but

There's so little

That either of us

Can do about it.

That's how it goes

And us along with it

But when does it

Get easier

Get better

Get harder

Get worse?

We're finding out

The secret

Is to wait.

Play it by ear

Unless you can read it

I never learned

I guess I don't need it.

I have a knack

Don't knock it, it's real.

I can play notes

That reveal how I feel.

Quit horsing around!

Don't you know you're

Supposed to be serious?

Wipe that smile off your face!

This is no time to be happy –

People are getting married here!

And don't look at me like that

When I'm talking to you!

Right on the money

But wrong on the timing

You wrote the poetry

I did the rhyming.

I sang the melody

You just transcribed it.

You poured the starlight

I just imbibed it.

Save your breath

Until it's fully grown

Into a sigh, perhaps

A yawn. Once it has

Matured, then you can

Release it to the world.

Talk until you're blue in the face.

And I will call you Smurfy

Which you will not appreciate.

And I will smirk perceptively

While you fume openly.

And we will agree to disagree

Which is better than not speaking.

And we will carry on as though

Nothing ever happened...

Ugly as sin

But beautiful

To those who

Know no better.

Like blind people

And pebbles

They harbor no

Ingrained prejudices

About beauty

Or righteousness.

They simply accept

At face value

What is, as what it is.

This is better.

Voice your opinion

I don't have to agree

I don't have to speak

I may want to scream

I may want to slap you

But I don't have to.

What a way to go!

Face-first, feet last

Mud-drenched

Blood-spattered

Topsy-turvy

But grateful.

X spots his mark

Makes his pitch

Sells his wares

Hits the road

And never looks back.

You snooze, you lose

Hours of your life

That you'll never get back.

You wake, you take

The hours you have left

And make the most

Of the least. That's life.

Zig-zagging my way

Through traffic cones

And caution lights

I wend a path

Through tire treads

And broken glass.

I hope the things

I pass won't leave 

Me spinning out

But know that if they do

I'll still survive the crash.