My mind on a slice of paper

Here's my poetry thread where I write what's going through my mind and stuff. This poem brings back memories, and I hope you feel some sort of nostalgia from it or something.

Fresh Lemonade

Hark, the day’s done, what a wonderful night
Mere seconds ago I was part of a fight
Not with a person, no something much worse
I was dueling my bladder, which wasn’t a first

Now that it’s over, I’m certainly free
My pants are unzipped and I’m able to pee
No outhouse, no toilet, no can, and no John
Just letting it leak down the front of my lawn

Oh what an experience, peeing outdoors
It’s better than streaking while doing your chores
If my house had plumbing, I’d do it inside
Then again, maybe not, I would lose all my pride

The wind on bare skin is quite the sensation
The cold of winter, a freezing elation
I would do it all day, no doubt about
If only my bladder didn’t run out

Busy cars frequently pass by my home
I just stand and wave from behind my lawn gnome
I know it may sound somewhat mildly creepy
But give it a try and let flow your gold wee-wee

When it’s all over, I zip up and leave
I have no paper, so use a big leaf
If some freak is watching, I wave to the rotter
Then walk back inside for a tall glass of water

Here's a more serious Poem I wrote today.

Dis-antidote

The Virus taints you.

You need the cure,
You’re infected.

What’s like a cold knife that burns?
A blazing steel in the pit of your soul?
It scars like a cruel irony.

What flushes your face bright pink?
A burning, depressing, undesirable thing?
It melts into your heart like poison,
But feels like the cure.

The stigma spreads through your veins, tainting your blood and bones.
It was once such a majestic thing, but now it pains.
You loved it, but now you hate it.
You can’t let go, you never let go, though you lie to yourself, saying you can.

It seemed like a dream, but became a reality.
Before you knew it, it consumed your mind.
Some say it’s a great thing, but the wise know it’s not.
What was once your comfort is now your Hell.
Looking back, it’s obvious it didn’t comfort to begin with, but instead only brought you down.

What cures your happiness and turns it to sin?
What churns your heart and makes your mind boil?
Not through anger, but through helpless depression, it makes your spirit scream in agony.
Why did God make such a beautiful thing that so easily crushed your mind?
Like Jekle and Hyde, a two faced thing, that lifts up, but levels the lifter.
You experienced it, but wished you never had.

Not until you see it in another’s eyes do you fear it.
Before you merely hated it, but now it hates you back.
You fear for another’s safety, you know they need not taste the poison,
But at the same time you want them to, just not the same way they’re willing to.
It only arouses that same experience that you didn’t want to feel again.

There is no immunity.
You plead to the infected, try to pull them free.
You want them to taste the cure with you.
But is it the cure or the poison?

What grieves a man?
What kills a giant?
What saves a sinner?

You want to cure that one infected,
But your cure is diseased.

You know you should let them suffer

If you truly cared for that infected.


It's a little disorganized, but that's sorta how I wanted it to feel. Tell me what you think.