you can’t tell me A, B... C
If you don’t know your 1, 2, 3’s
If you don’t know your 1, 2, 3’s
you couldn’t’ve gotten A’s & B’s
you had to have passed with C’s
The Immortal Wize
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COMMENTS
mrmelody7 says: ABC what they call the liquor stores here |
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love_supreme says: Very nice |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY The Immortal Wize
Scroll Ona lady sings the blues about the reds a timeless piece  |
Tearsinjustice the verdict next case |
Scansum total deep sigh swipe |
Precisetime hides in ordinary days memories count the steps of passing time only the clock knows every tick and tock while hearts remember only the moments |
Inheritancemy grandmother had a little white poodle with a black purse in its mouth every time I touched it my hand got popped years later my grandmother was gone the poodle wasn't It was finally mine I left it alone |
Disturbance Is Mentalone sees an obstacle another sees a challenge one sees an ending another sees a beginning the event remains unchanged but perception perception changes everything disturbance feeds on comparison and the exhausting need to know a desperate attempt to control what was never ours to control grows stronger every time we argue with reality every time we say "This shouldn't be happening." every time we demand certainty from a world that never promised us a damn thing the harder we fight the more turbulent we become peace was never hidden at the end of perfect circumstances peace is always waiting inside understanding inside awareness inside the simple act of watching a thought "watch your thoughts" recognize disturbance is mental do not dismiss the pain, pain is real loss is real disappointment is real injustice is real suffering gains much of its strength from the stories the mind keeps repeating the same mind that can magnify a problem can also loosen its grip ... |
Vital StatisticsI was there but I didn't have the paperwork I lived the story before I read the first page Monday happened 20 years later That's when I finally received the evidence |
Counting Centsain't paying for no subscription I got bills I don't mean dollars I'm counting cents trying to make a meal stick I need sustenance life is breath and every breath gets spent enough to know the cost of being here ain't rent free the cash that disappears it's measured in the weight we carry daily paying just to breathe best believe lately we been barely living if you owe me money all you gone here me say is "pay me" ain't counting dollars I'm counting breaths ensuring survival in the space that's left three meals a promise that ain't always kept every morning proof that nothing's really sure life is breath and breath ain't free everybody pays for their existence eventually some with labor some with loss some with grief I'm just trying to afford another week I ain't poor I ain't rich I'm wise enough to know I ain't gotta be on welfare to get cut off by the government life is breath breath is time time gets spent like every dime I'm counting cents to pay a price that don't make... |
Here It Isit's gonna take a reader to find me I don't mean a medium more like wikipedia I try to be good but not that obedient learning something new everyday like a mathematician doing subtraction and addition there's always something to add and take away not too much in a hurry to label things if I could talk to a tree and the tree could talk back to me the tree would probably say "who told you to call me tree, I'm roots I'm soil I'm sun I'm rain I'm dew I'm seasons I'm time I'm you I am everything I'm absorbing how can I be one thing you oughtta be ashamed you're human use your brain" and I probably be mad at that tree for holding a mirror in front of me and telling me I can't see, the nerve of that tree reality is often ahead of our vocabulary the problem with words is man allow me to explain I tried to but I been lied to too the world is always bigger than the language used to describe it and yet we keep trying to define it we can catch a butterfly but the only way to keep it is to ... |
Afterlife Storytimefrom the first bomb blast affordability became a thing of the past it was the year rent stopped making sense and people asked for their pennies back they checked old couch cushions emptied jars of forgotten change searched coat pockets like archaeologists turning up remains hoping to excavate evidence a previous way of living existed of a civilization that could afford things darkness stretched so far it became ordinary when the lights finally came on nobody celebrated we asked the question what is life to the living but we were too busy surviving it to listen for the meaning |