A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Sunday, February 10, 2013

subjective

Whatever floats her boat
must sink the world,
or she's not satisfied.
What butters up her bread
must leave yours dry.
She takes it all: both sides.
What makes her bed - well.
She's not making it
with plans to sleep.

No rest, from wickedness,
my friend -
but if you find yourself
in her best interest,
consider yourself blest - and next,
prepare to weep.

gasp

I about can't breathe
from my crush on you
it's your shoulders, I think
or what glides above,
and what rides below
and what lies beneath
in a place within you
that my conscience can't
reach.

Saturday, February 09, 2013

"dead horses"

Another thing I don't get:
"dead horses," so-called.
People
are like "Why
do they have to keep
talking about this? Why
do they have to keep talking about
this? Why do they have to keep talking
about this? Why do they have to keep
talking about this?"

There's something wrong with that.

Like they're deliberately trying
to annoy you. And I don't get it, but
I figure - that's on me, for listening.
Let 'em ask. Let 'em talk. If
they were doing it deliberately
to annoy
you

well, that's as good a reason as any.
And that's on you. For listening.

People are gonna; so let 'em.
That's what I said. And that's what I
say. And that's what I'll say. And that's

hey

are you listening