MAN IN THE MIRROR

I'm learning to hate the man in the mirror... He looks like me but he is nothing like me... He has a sorry sad face that is unfathomable.... Her lips pouty and almost ready to crack a smile... He looks tired... His eyes black and heavy... Covered by dark glasses....

He looks bored and hopeless... Has nothing to leave for... He is in good clothes... Condition... Skin dry... He has a bald head.... And a potbelly he doesn't even need... I hate this man I see in the mirror....His reflection is sadonic ... Almost giving up....

He stands erect... But he seems to be covered in thought... His skin color pale his hairline lost... I want to hear him speak... He must be foreign.... His finger nails clean his heart seem pure... But I hate this man I see in the mirror..

His face hairy.... Height short and thinner... Slender than yesterday... He seems lost.... The atmosphere around him gives the contrast of life... Maybe he is yerning to learn... Get this man a teacher....I don't know what he smells like... Maybe he puts on Shirley's or adidas... His watch expensive his shoes big.... His shoulder coming together... Almost touching... I want to know this man... But I'm learning to hate him.....

Maybe he has my story from his world... Maybe I have a story for my world that is his... He looks like he can take a long nap... Or holiday from his own life... I hate this man in the mirror.... Somebody please... Should I break the glass to keep him off from staring... Lame excuses... He is far away from staring at me... He is looking at something I can't see... Is this me or me in his world? I hate this man... He looks needy....

©Hurt_Surgeon®

Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

WITTY

WITTY in the last poem I wrote I told you the next shall be a poem with your name.... I have a longing in my heart.... The same sensation almost everyone has in their loin....I have a longing in my hands the same sensation people have in their hands....

WITTY your brown grey eyes, and polished brass skin makes my friends doodle over you.... I say this because last night mother asked about it.... It reminds me of the days we played  paddles... Days before we parted... I really wonder if you miss me....

WITTY this days night aren't so warm especially during this rainy season.... I miss how you cooked for me.😄..cared for me.. I miss the utter loss of your words in your lips with lisps.... But im in Wonder... How do you do....

WITTY your brother thinks I am at bay.... I am the one that severed this institution... But should I tell him that your Bff promised to make soup with my radius and ulna??.... Should I tell him that the new dog in my  compound isn't as friendly... Witty... Tell me...

WITTY tell me is it normal to dream about you daily... Is it OK when I stick back in the days where you were Barbie and I was the doll.... I remember...The silly games... The sad songs... The many poems.. the whole world knew about you... All about us.... Witty.. I can't come to terms with all this changes... I hope I will sleep early today.... We are a great couple in my dreams...



©Hurt_Surgeon

Beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Mia MUSE

Aggressively, tomorrow I will wake up in you arms,
Dreams like this make my heart light faintly into the night skies,
My eyes close up tight,
As my brain shudder of the unwanted,
Lustful thoughts
The morn is here again!

Tonight, is the beginning of forever,
See, your eyes just like your face glows with an orange hue,
Hold me,is the voice that hums in my head,
Illusions created in my space.. should I just shout and say you are gorgeous

I am not the poet of description,
Let me brag I'm Dante Alighieri,
You are Beatrice, let me write you poems and poems until the world is jealous,
Let me suck on your lips,
And stick on you
Like an ambient fragrance

Beautiful, tomorrow I'll grave a tattoo of your name on my hands..
A painful reminder of your existence above,
And deep within my skin,
Like a nickname, you are stuck in my lips

Tomorrow, if torment comes,
Let it be for the reason of deep affection.
You are my rare tulips,
Lavender,
Rose,
You are my ice sculpture,
Morning dew
Beautiful song bird,

Aggressively, tomorrow I will wake up in your arms,
Missed, beaten by the thoughts of you,
Because you are my rejuvenation
My muse



©Hurt_Surgeon ™


Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

LOSING MOMENTUM..

It's time to find religion and beliefs... They tell me faith heals....And maybe I should just be faithful.....It reminded me of a story I read a long time ago..... The other said... You can't find god, god finds you.....I think this time he has found me...

From late night bars and clubs.... I think I'll call it a quit.... From multiple women to be toyed in pleasure.... I am finding an alternative... I'm meek I'm weak...I think it's from too much alcohol...Loss of good night sleep haunted by nightmares that these days I have a favorite... It's fantastic.... Cold nights swollen eyes... It's a miracle that I am not yet Dead.....

I'm finding the face of the most high... If this is the way life will lead me.... I want to be at the Oasis...I'm kneeling at the altar.... Ready for  my atonement.... Head hanging low tears flow... I don't know what is the right path but I'm ready to find out....

Kneeling down my voice low sounds like whispers or maybe mumbles and murmurs ... Teach me how to pray for forgiveness... Who do I tell I'm submitting to... Ready to sacrifice all this and more.... Tell me does the god of this house take material stuff.... I'm eager to find my answers.....

I am ready to serve him... Just like I served alcohol and women and more.... I'm willing to kill and die for him... Isn't this what he wants from me... I want to be humble not thay I am not.... Is this where I shout his name and say Father father father take my hand... I cannot walk without you....

I'm looking for a place to hide my sorrows... Does the god of this house wipe tears from people's faces... I want to be redeemed... Why don't I know what to do.... This place feels at home... But who do I talk to.... I'm kneeling at the same spot at the altar.... I don't know anything about beliefs and faith... But I want to be faithful full.... I hear the god of this house heals the sick.... Erases the painful past and washes you clean... I hear he turns trials into tribulations I want to be this man changed... Somebody tell me.... Teach me how to talk to him.... I want to be his slave.... Chained like a pet bird... And religiously following his commandments.... I want to have my testimony.... I hear he heals....



©Hurt_Surgeon ™


Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

DEATH NOTE

@Preston_Andie

They said everyone becomes a poet someday in their lives.... They said poetry is the voice that speaks when your lips are too shy.... They say poetry writes on heart and souls like pencil on paper and walls ..... But I can't find enough puns to make things here fantastic....And my poetry cannot handle to much punchlines so that they call it puntastic.

It's days like this that I want to walk to our living room and hug my father.... Tell him good by and run to the garage with a knife.... It's is days like today... Where you suffer tremendous pain in your soul... And the silent neighborhood of your home doesn't really solve it....

This is where the breath in and out exercise don't work.....This is where I text all my friends and tell them good by till we meet again... Do you really understand.... My self sores....I want to close my eyes and pick my father's firearm and the bang be my goodbye...

This is where I go to the kitchen.... Take a look at my mother cooking and I take the table knife and go to my bedroom... No one will notice I'm gone... I swear... They don't even notice my presence this day.... I'll write names on a piece of paper.. those that I really love and those that I wanted them to love back....

This rooms are so noisy.... This are the days I want to let out my neighbor's hound. And let him devour me mercilessly... Do they think the pain matters... It would be once and goodbye will be how he licks his muzzle.

I want to go to my family doctor... Ask for an overdose of acetaminophen... Sleep sleep and never wake up... Or take an overdose of laxitive tablets.... Drown in my bathtub goodbye...I want to go to my family garden.... Take a rope.... I know how scary it would be when you all watch me kicking my life away... But that will be it...

My goodbye signed in thick red blood.... And it would be good bye in deed.....



©Hurt_Surgeon🐾



Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

SUPRÊME THOUGHTS 💭

  🍭 My best friend is gay...My other best friend is a mugger....My other best friend that my mom know about smokes pot....My other best friend is a pimp and owns a brothel....My other best friend that my dad sees has just had her 7th abortion....

My other best friend owns a gun...My other best friend that my mom knows about... Is a terrorist convert that believes death serves justice...My other best friend that my dad knows has AIDS... She flips for pay and also loves drugs......

My mother is a jobless drunk... Who lost her job due to laziness.... My brother is a drug dealer...Who goes in and out of jail....My sister is a staunch Christian....That believes the world would be a better place without Muslims Hindus and Jews....My step sister is a white supremacist....Who thinks white people are a correction for the black people presence...My other brother owns a gun... It is believed he is a car jacker


My teacher is a devil worshiper who thinks the world is better with out people....My doctor is an atheist....And my deskmate believes in aliens...

And I'm just a poet who writes poems on my bedroom wall....And sometimes I rewrite words on the words that I wrote last... And when night falls I still have a story



©Hurt_surgeon™ 🐾


 Beblogpreston.co.ke

WHEN I DIE.

💀

My eulogy must be crafted on imported marble.... My name must be in gold and old English font... I don't want my face to be placed in the page of obituaries.... You cannot just paraphrase my life story into one statement..  life well lived... Or gone too soon.... Or God loved you the most.... Infact don't even say promoted to Glory... What Glory have I been promoted to?

My place of death should be a museum... Let the children of my children learn about the father of their fathers....I want to be buried in my own house if possible frozen and preserved in my living room... I don't think it is well to cover me with soil dirt and mud.....

I don't want crying mourners on my death day... It is forbidden to cry, weep or even sorrow.. tell my mother that I said crying will make her weak...And when you are weak you are vulnerable... Tell my brother to replace me momentarily in my clique... Tell my local member of Parliament that my funeral is more important than his pleas.... Tell him I said he must only talk to my family members and not any other person....Tell him I said he should not expect any important treatment he doesn't even know my name....

Tell my priest he must make his prayers short... She must not use my death as a challenge or lesson... I want my tombstone to be curved from malate.... I want it in a quire shape... Not dorm or the shape of an epitaph... Make sure the stone is neither white nor black....

Make sure no news takes place that day... No schools open...Infact if I die by road then those vehicles must be government property.....I want the video of my last day taken... Not re enacted...How will you be precise.... And then finally... I don't want a Wooden coffin...

The son of this soil is sick... I don't want trees destroyed to pave way for my rest... I don't want people to labour with hammers and nails... But something tells me if you must... Then kill me by crucification.... Otherwise I want to lay my head on a soft pillow and mattress... Covered in a designer bedsheet and duvet....My grave must be cemented and tiled.... Son of the moon wants functioning light bulb in his tomb...How will I invite my ghost friends in a dark hole....

Lastly I want my story to be studied in schools... The story of me must be written in italics....And fed to both the young and the old.. if I die in a plane crush don't burry me... Let my remains be fed to fish.... And my bones buried in deep sea... That's when I die....

©Hurt_Surgeon™🐾

 beblogpreston.blogspot.com

CURIOUS OUTCOMES

🐾🐾

It's midnight and I can't find sleep....Strange patterns of an unfamiliar voices do stunts in my head... I'm a total mess... I'm a total wreck.... I try sleeping pills or maybe counting game it's useless... Take my heart I'm ready to gamble....

I'm ready to cry now... Or maybe to laugh to eternity.... I hope this will end with man and man alone...  Or maybe it will be with my heart in my hands.... Wonders...I ready to die now...Maybe in death is where I'll stay alive...

It's midnight and I can't sleep...I try to sing my favorite song... Write a poem.. Maybe take a pencil and draw your picture.... Maybe... Cover myself and forget...I'm ready come for my heart....

I'm ready...Teach me why trust must be foreign....Tell me why I should remain alone....Or maybe you'll teach me why it's not a gamble....Why I need to smile.... Why I have a heart in my left......

Take my heart I'm ready...It's midnight and the winds are calm...And the sky is clear..The stars twinkling.... Take my heart...I'm curious I want to see the outcome...

©Hurt_Surgeon™

Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

DEAD ASF

PRESTON 🐭

If only I wasn't drunk today... I would shout to the DJ...I'll shout at him and tell him play that song again....I want him to play a very sad song....I want him to give me the illusions of how Death feels like....

If I wasn't drunk today...I would show up to your Graveyard with flowers...I'm sorry roses are the kinds found in abundance....Or I'll just take them to my family orchard... Pluck a few apples...But I'll not take green apples...

If I wasn't drunk today...I had only one thing to do... I wanted to walk and when I stop...I wanted to drop dead...I wanted to walk till my legs hurt....I hope the pain in my legs will rub off the pain in my heart.....

I wanted to walk for long... I wanted to concentrate on the road...I hope it will destruct me from thinking of you...I want the whole world to take pictures of me... Pictures while they are symphatize with me... I want them to take pictures with tears in my eyes....

With my stomach empty...With my legs barefoot and maybe half clothed....Maybe the humiliation will be better than the weakest point in me...I want the whole world to use me as a moral example of "till death do us apart"... Let them call me insane...Those that think they know me to say I'm on drugs....Or maybe addicted....

I want to cry Infront of everyone ...I hope the ones reading my poems will notice the tears in my lines....I hope they will notice the spaces left by my pen while writing this....

If you were alive today....I would have called you... You know how much I loved your voice....But I'm scared apart from my drunk slurs I might cry.....I'm afraid you'll notice my heart is missing....or my voice isn't happy....

I could have come for you tonight....Take you where all lovers go...But where will i find you,I haven't healed yet... Apart from the floors of my bathroom....I think my next favorite spot is the kitchen counter....

If you were alive today...I would have texted you I love you... But now I'll only love you like others do... view and like your Posts ... And only wish you show up at my place....

Speaking of which...I want more drinks and a louder more painful sad songs....


Hurt_Surgeon🐾

 Beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

MY EX's RELATIONSHIP

😱I'm jealous of my ex's relationship... I'm jealous of how she looks so contented with her man.. actually I saw her family picture..She is now in a marriage for three years now... I've developed the demon in me that likes to stare at her pictures.... with that in mind I think I'm the one with problems....

Last week I saw the pictures of her wedding.... Those reminded me of her words... You are OK... I'm the one with the problem....I saw her baby bump... She is a few months pregnant... I'm jealous with how she posts her perceived child's name...even with the baby bump she still looks beautiful...I'm really jealous sometimes angry... That pet name she uses... She was supposed to call me that... And me alone...

But this days she uses it to her man and her unborn... Im jealous of my ex's relationship... Last night she posted the picture of her man in millan.. that doesn't mean I don't go to millan... Infact we were in the same hotel....But the two love birds were all over each other on the dinner table... The same way she held my arms three years ago us the same way  she held his...

I'm really jealous... I want to call her and say sorry... I'd love if we are friends...But sometimes the ghost of our past comes parading themselves eagerly waiting to haunt....

I'm jealous of my ex's relationship.... She seems more happy than all the years we spent together....

©Hurt_Surgeon🐾



 Beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

```Dear EARTH```

I wrote this poem in bed one afternoon before the news got to you... I wrote this poem with bouts of life and death flashing miraculously before my eyes... My breathing was slowing and the people around me had their hearts and faces filled with tears....For a moment I felt helpless... I tried effortlessly to atleat crack a smile on my already numb body...But it was as dangerous as not trying....

I visited the graveyard inside me... Looking nervously at the things I killed when I was alive... I saw the my fighting spirit on the furthest corner... It's tombstone was cracked and spider webs wooven intricately... Maybe to send the message it was buried a long time ago...

Next was the place I visited frequently... It read heart... The path to this place was less bushy.... The tombstone decorated poorly with roses... And stained with tears... I was sure this was a bad idea.... I tried to revisit the days of my before... But I was afraid I didn't have enough time...

I remembered trying to write a letter to the one that I loved.... I remembered trying to rub off the pain of heartbreaks and heartaches... I remembered crying myself to sleep... And I thought... Maybe this is it... This is the day....I was too frail and feeble to write two letters hope you will understand....

My legs felt cold.... And my heart pace slowed significantly... I felt all the movements in and outside my body... Those that turned away as my eyes turned white....And my lungs couldn't grasp some useful air....

I saw myself cry.... Maybe this was the effect of feeling loved...Or saying goodbye... My lips failed to open and words choked....Those that will say I described a dream... Please take them to where you choose to lay my remains....

I relaxed all my muscles....And let out a sigh.... I saw how happy she was without me and I was jealous...I wish I had a few minutes that day....But dead men don't regret.... Though I wished it was me all along...Clasp my fingers to a fist.... Close my eyes and empty my thoughts...

I'm sorry I only wrote very few words... But I hope you will understand.... The angel of death robbed me of words and my life story was left untold....

His pen dropped on the floor and the pad he was writing on...On his chest.... Slowly he closed his eyes and his whole body froze......

©Hurt_Surgeon™

Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

St. VALENTINE

Preston ✨


Give me the chance...And I will change your mind... Enough time to illustrate that the bomb effect is not on the acts of valor...But in the assembly....Give me a chance to be the one in your dreams..Be the one to shape your dreamscape....The one that when night falls brings light to you....

I won't fight because you walked with another.... No...I'll chase you like I'm beginning to hit on you.... no you won't have time to miss me because if I won't be with you...I'll give you a thousand splendid poems about you.....

Give me the chance....And I'll prove to you poets are not all broken glasses that live with fragments of their hearts....I'll let you know I not only craws on dreams but live them...I'll let you know that story I never said....Or that lullaby I've never sang.....Or that poem I've never written....

If I won't be with you....Then I'll be alone telling me the stories of I.... Don't be wary when I stop to laugh I'll tell you why...I'll laugh because the feeling of me being next to you will tickle my soul......It will be funny..I'm not used to laughing like that.or feeling that way.... I'll be better....

Give me the chance to hold you sanity in place.... Even when I pour the entities of my love just like I do on paper.....Rock you to sleep and shake you to wake up....It's a good morning.... Give me the chance to make you what you've always wanted to be......

©Hurt_Surgeon™

    Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

NOT OLD ENOUGH

Preston 🎀


When I get old...Old enough I'll tell my family about you.... I'll tell my mother tongues out....out right why I did not marry and why I will not either....I will tell my father straight in the face that I was not hurt or heartbroken but I lack the definition of that word.....

I will sit in my porch and rock with my chair.... Faintly trying to forget about you....But it would be so long that your presence in my life shall be a permanent mark.... I'll buy you flowers and invite you to my house ball...I might have lost my tongue and maybe won't talk to you.....

Your presence in my area will remind me of the day we met.... It will remind me of the days we were together....The days you slept next to me....And the story of our future....It will remind me of the days you were crying and worrying...The soft spot that you touched...The memories of our glory days....

I will tell my brother to get married and have children...Tell my sister that she should stop trying to find me a woman.... Because all I ever wanted was and is still in you..... I will spend my days in laboratories and libraries all around the world.... Sometimes I will find a spot and write good poems that will have your name....

Most of the times I'll read the messages we sent ages ago....I'll want to visit your home with candy, flowers shoes and booze.... Sometimes I'll want to buy a bus ticket for two and go to the coast....

But again i stop thinking and realized we are at the coast....I'll send you pictures of us the only pic that I have...Then delete it....Then people will think I'm gay others think I'm Bewitched but I'll tell them what I possess.... The girl that I loved.....Is the woman that I love at 60....


©Hurt_Surgeon™

Beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

SAMANTA

PRESTON ✨


I lost my virginity to a doll.... Samantha is what I heard them call her...I'm sorry I wasn't drunk or even angry about my lovely one... But this temptation came with deep sensations... I couldn't resist her plus size body with deep brown color....

I'm afraid if my lovely one knows about this she will leave....I don't consider this as cheating....I hope she will understand....But now I think this is quite a wrong turn....

I lost my virginity to a doll.... I know most of you will think I'm quite a pervert and I can't control my senses....You see I fell for the next to real silicon skin and ai brains that were my equal.....The silent jokes and her pathway to aphrodisiac directions.....

I lost my virginity to a doll.... Her soothing sounds like the morning birds....As we moved up and down....I'm hoping to find forgiveness in this society.... Maybe the wrong doings and the unacceptable ways quiver our understanding of taboos...And selfish patterns.....

I lost my virginity to a blue eyed doll....It was an experiment.....

 ©Hurt_surgeon™

Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

FILTY LINES

PRESTON ✨


I'm still having troubles to sleep...Just like the days I was hurt and heartbroken and beyond....I still lack a regular sleeping pattern just like I lacked sleep when I was in love.... I'm still filled with pain and regrets of things I didn't do... Things I didn't say or people I choose not to meet.....

I still toss in bed till 4am and beyond....Just like the way I toss in bed at 9pm....I still write poems to those that I loved, they that I love..And them that I'm yet to... Infact nowadays I'm so into my future that I have forgotten how my present feels like....

I still practice my flirty lines Infront of the mirror before I say them...I still write the probability diagram before I go meet her...Just Incase her speaking is not scripted....I still love dolls and tea parties...

I still lack sleep just like how I used to.... Even before I wrote my first letter....I still sleep covering my head...And crossing my hands and legs together...I want to gather courage and tell everyone that I love... I love them... Especially the one that has routinely found her escape in my dreams....

©hurt_surgeon™

Beblogpreston.blogspot.com