sphinxradio i don't like to talk about my poems.
not that there is much to say.
but there are a lot of them under my name.
quantity, if not quality.
mostly bound up in a green notebook by my bed.
mostly, written too_late at night.
whoknows my notebook of poems/random written shit is in my desk drawer. if i were any good id share some of it with you, but im not. 011105
silentbob my dna 011106
anti-social butterfly all of mine are written in these two books that can be tied up so no one can see. i wish i were brave enough to even let one person read mine. but they are so personal that i am afraid of people rejecting them or something. maybe someday i will be able to share them, i hope, because they sit there taunting me in those two books that sit in my bag. 011106
SuicidalAngel I actually I have some too. I've had it since like 7th grade. It's in my old Dare folder/notebook, I got in 5th grade. I have about 3 notebooks in it. I usually just keep it next to my bed, I used to lock it up, but I dunno, when I want to write something, I dont want to dig it out, or I'll loose my train of thought. I usually write really late at night or when I'm depressed or something. I just can't write when I'm happy. I would share some, but I dont think they're very good. They're all pretty old too. 011106
whoknows im the same way. wirting when im depressed and late at night. its a means of, i dunno, venting i guess. but no thats not really the word i was looking for. but anyway, when im happy i dont need to write. know what i mean? 011106
SuicidalAngel Yeah I've tryed to write when I'm happy, and it sucks. I'm not into the fluffy cheery stuff anyway. It is a way of venting, and expressing yourself. Compairing how you feel to other things, to actually getting a sence of "angry" or "sad" without using those words. None of my friends know that I write though. They would not expect that from me at all. It's like my own secret or something. 011106
mike (the bad poet) everybody writes in here about how they write mad poems but are afraid to share. that seems like a terrible waste of a place called "poems". so ill start it off

poems remind me what a shy guy i can be even though the world is spying me i try to guard my privacy its like im flying see when no ones there to bother me i feel the thoughts that drive my deeds but sometimes i wish that thoughts could speak and break the peace that rules my weeks my weakness is i dont relate?... you see mental states are where innate fears congregate and create a scene of divissive converseness, the miserable worst is i cant break the curse of my own thoughts and my rhyme ends caught, on the note that not everything in life comes easy sometimes i tell me "you just have to do it, believe me", to stay free from being a poet for an audience of... me

a freestyle off the top for all the shy poets out there.

poetry, hiphop, stories whatever is how you can be what you are inside, if you write and you dont show anyone then you are lying to yourself. besides whats the worst that could happen?
anti-social butterfly yeah, i can only really write when i am depressed and late at night. i always get my best ideas just as i put my head down on the pillow. what a pain in the ass! and i can only seem to write when it is dark. the sunlight inhibits me in strange ways. my friends didn't know until recently that i write, so telling them is my first step. i think i secretly want them to sneak into my books and read, but i am too afraid to just hand them over for them to read. 011106
mike start leaving your notebooks in obvious places, someone is bound to snoop eventually 011106
whoknows if you really wanted to help me, you could have told me the truth.
you say i was treatening, too dominating.
what did you think i would do?
im not the villian you make me out to be.
im not that angry.
just sad.
i loved you, in so many ways.
i knew you would eventually break my heart, but i thought you were worth it.
but i never thought you would lie to me
i thought i knew you.
i thought you knew me.
what were you worth?
what was it all for?
did we ever really have anything?
im not the one who threw our friendship away.
you did that when you decided not to be honest.
to lie to spare my feelings - how sweet
how noble of you to think of me - or of yourself.
of course youre always right.
youre perfect. and im always wrong.
you never listen to what i say.
why should you when you already know everything.
i would have known more if only you had spoken to me.
communication is everything
with no communication there is no honesty
with no honesty there is no trust
with no trust you have nothing.
no, we never had anything.
we were never even friends
so why do i miss you so much?

not really a poem. i just started writing and this is what i got.
CheapVodka the poemz that i've written between August and now are found here: http://understatement.com/pages/forms/lnsearch.asp?Search=917

get bored...go read some of those

though a few can be found here in blather now...lucky y'all
lost i havent written a poem in a long time. i only write when i am sad and depressed. i havent been sad or depressed for a little while. i have been around my girlfriend a lot and she makes me feel like someone she makes me smile she makes me feel like someone cares wether she does or not. i think she does but i dont know. she doesnt know how i feel about her. i try to tell her but it doesnt come out. 011106
simplesage maybe you should write her a poem 011107
Casey They may be bad, but they help relieve stress and make me see everyside to life. 011108
lost well you see i'm not very good at writing happy poems. and if i gave her a depressing one i dont think that would be a good idea. 011109
Aaron i write alot of poems... i put most of them on blather... but i had lots more in my book.. i had it till i went into the hospital(see schitzophrenia). i came back and they had cleaned.. and took all my swords.. and my book was gone...

all poems, storys, and writings on this site by Aaron are copyright A.Kerns.
mike how can you copyright words my friend? if i change one word in your poem, i dont violate your copyright, yet it is still almost your poem. so did i steal it or write another unique poem? people shouldnt be so attached to transient things. you'll be dead someday and wont care anyway. possession is an illusion perpetrated by the ego and perpetuated by american consumerism. look what happened when the native indians of this land took up consumerism as a joke, we got a continent they got genocide. so what will you give up (or what have you already given up) to stake your claim? 011112
Aaron dude.. first off.. chill.. secondly... what you just said sooo goes under teh word copyright.. and third.. i just don't want anyone to publish my shit... i show it to thoes i want to see it.. it's not to keep any of you from putting it somewhere.. it's to keep people from showing it to the general public 011112
unhinged if i wrote words for you
gentle words
angry words
showed them to you complete
you would never get it
never understand
that the only reason i can write
of you
at all
is because i love you
stretched beyond means
denied without longing
some small piece of me
lost forever
inside those little words
mike first blather is not an index, everything should be written everywhere second i respect your purpose, but there is mad "copyright" controversy or at least conversation, maybe we just need a new word for blatherers to use?

Aaron good idea mike.. eather blatherright or right_to_copy no offence taken.. and the idea of copy right is not "no it's mine.." it's more like a protective thing.. 011112
ClairE They're right beside me. I pulled them out of my bag, all composition notebook and ragged paper and photocopies. Poems I couldn't let her see. Her boyfriend was possibly amused.

It wasn't even there.

She said, "I can't imagine carrying everything I've written along with me," admiration written over her face. "Then again, I don't know how I don't do it."
u :-) 020625
me :-( 030708
Perplexlypuzzled Woe to the inarticulate!

I wanna be a bird
The heather bird
Wouldn’t that be a sight?
I could play out an entire performance in my head
Dancing and moving along so elegantly
I can imagine the most wonderful things when I’m like this
But I can’t write a damn thing
My hand shakes so that I cant write any of it down
Too much excitement
And then when I calm enough to write
I forget
All of the wonderful things are gone
And then I’m back in a bad mood
It’s like having a taste of the sunlight
And saying that’s what you can’t have
Silly bird
That’s where you'll never be
And what you'll never see again
Then being locked up in a tiny cell
Where the walls are black and leak when it rains
Where the sun never shines
When I can’t write
When I cant imagine
When I can’t see straight enough to know what I’m looking at
When I can feel the wind
But not even see the leaves blowing from its grace
It seems so funny
Almost like
Doing something you'd never thought you'd do before
Or doing something simply because it’s in your nature
Something you've always done
But never thought about
When I can’t find the words to express what I’m thinking
I get so frustrated
It’s like being locked away in that dark, damp room all over again
Woe to the inarticulate!
bobo ... 031222
yayayaya poetry 040428
Mr. bigstuff She said I could have any woman I want,
Generous that...
The offer being made, reality bites a hole in it.
She wishes to be there...
To view?
To applaude?
To giggle in joy or guffaw in embarrassed horror?
As painful as the truth is, it seems the reality is that I can have any woman she wants.
Sadly no woman will pick up this gauntlet.
Happily...joyously...gratefully...my woman keeps my mind quite occupied, my body quite content and my heart filled to overflowing.
While she is not every woman I might have, she is all the woman I could want.
kim if you would only allow yourself to be any good-- 050309
i did i finally did i
happy today.
asdfasdfsdfsdf as long as its not stupid angsty teen bullshit..I'm for em' 060811
what's it to you?
who go