Read the Squares on Keyboards

I don’t want to fight anymore

Through the months, we’ve come so far

Bent knee, leg at peace and rest

Rug, deceased; ye’ brushed by belief

But not at this moment

May the blackened tavern illuminate with release

Folding corners’ rippling record of release

Point to the exit, an underhanded periodical space

Cordless electronics, may not they be hidden

Of course, not the communication

Only the compassion

Good riddens, my reputation is a hallucination

I’m drawn back to YOU like the rhymes of my words

My best friend, it’s good to have you back

I haven’t seen you since you’ve entered the forest

That was the most frightening night

I saw the weeping bat

Again, I’m drawn back

This is the trail to the foot-less streets

“I’m stuck,” says the duck

I’m “moo-ing” for milk

Please help

Resistance is felt, but it…

Doesn’t really help; a heap of junk

As the arrows of wind descend, you…

You will always be my friend

To the bitter end; haha, don’t pretend

I count before I spend

The others, I must defend

The metal is hot with flames, but it will never bend

My friend, no friend

 

Nostalgic Ave.

Hey guys, I had to remove this poem since it was posted on another site. But instead of deleting the post here is a link where the poem can be found.

Nostalgic Ave.

A www.loveislonely.com exclusive poem by That Dude Eddie.

 

Folder as it Falls

I open my eyes to the smell of blinding chowder

The ambient train peels the skinless flesh at times of rest

The handle of introduction –  

A handle of conditioned dispositions

 

Of, of, off

A, the, soft is bought when tossed across -

A cross while legs are crossed, distraught

Think I forgot?

But at what cost?

 

Trick and spool the rules at school

For fif-minus-cup hours, I serve to fools

Corrupted cooperation at the head of student body

I even called while standing in the potty

 

But I did it for thee

He is the grain of cinnamon that nearly gave me the sea

How could this be?

I slay slere and erase the tear by quarter ’til three

 

But the phone rung

And my heart sings with the stings of dope-slung wings

Call me a rapper; yeah, sure -

It’s as pure as political clatter

Rap, rap, until your pockets get fatter

At will for father as I climb further, faster

 

That is the mask of black souls which tasks under cracked scrolls

I grow big and hit low

You reap as you sow and creep as you woe

Now you know, learn to love

You’re under a rock, yet yearn to rise above

 

Never fold, never fall.

 

 

 

 

Rainy With a Chance of Clouds

This week, folklore between the bars of prison

Social standing, all but accurate precision

All but boastful incision in the term of decision

Back then, the decommission of commitment

Now, the mission to dish in the belts of felt equipment

Write me

Tell me where to find the love

On the blue Earth, there is some

But it does not measure to up above

Or may I be pessimistic and say there is none

From finger

To trigger

To chamber

To slug of gun

From bullet

From barrel

To tower of apparel, undone

Sly quote, slick coat of white towel is sung

And slung

In slum

From tooth of gum

From roof, truth is hung

Your legs, they are burdensome

But use them to run

Majority ruler, mathematical pursuer

Pond of sewer is skewered whilst dollar is fond of fewer reviewers

Never winning in the game of fame, only losing

Weather is tame and humble to those whom fumble when choosing

Fool me once, shame on me

Fool me twice, this cannot be

Death is measured by 3′s

Under the green trees, the disease of concrete streets

My friend

My family

Two of word

My foes

So happy

Account for heard

Listen

~That Dude Eddie~

Please don’t forget to share this.

Peace and love.

 

Spooky Speaking

Maybe thing’s aren’t always hopeless

But it’s the days like this that make it hard to focus

And it’s the stamps like THIS that label me a culprit

Powdered Madness by the pulpit

Sour sadness and blackened rope-lift

Nightmare beneath hair, I live it

Vivid and precise, as nice as ice is

Tomatoes are diced and livid in accord to the price bid

Solid stock stalks the ark which embarks in the dark

Desolate martyr, a monster’s charter is marked

Response remarks on chart

Open ocean, seldom spoken and floating with sharks

Swim and surf and dim is turf

The fields are hurt

They are grim when chances to win are slim

Still the payment is biodiverse

Dues anew, letter and form

Me, misinformed and never reimbursed

Visions of pine tugged at hearse

Nothing is fine, I tell you

As life goes, life can only get worse

Something of mine, felled at purse

And for me, promise is opaque and buried in dirt

At what cost?

What was it all worth?

 

Mysterious Letter 4

Was it me? The blo** is stil* col*.. I nev*r mean* *o brin* *ou do*n, plea**, I’m sor**. I’m goin* no*here… I keep seei** you wherever **e whi*per* tra**l. The pa*s*on bur*s… I slo**y wat*hed yo* leav*, please come b***.. I thoug** I underst***, but I was wron*. I f*nally understa** now – when i* wa* t** lat*. You’re probably happier without me.. I don’t even know why I wrote this letter. It’s no* lik* it’ll ma** a **ference..

~That Dude Eddie~

Mysterious Letter

Mysterious Letter 2

Mysterious Letter 3

 

Please don’t forget to share this. 

Love and Peace.

 

Wine Tasting

The summer was constantly solid, frozen into a block of penguin carpet.

Har, har.

The guardian of passiveness timidly provided for the grasses of bewilderment.

HOO, HA!

Tainted faces, the adapting natures of crooked paintings.

So far?

A new beginning is a vivid dream – for old ways are obscene, lost without traces.

Reoccurring re-cycle, vivid living in a pillaged village is vital.

A sample, or two for you. Get a taste of a break from what you were told to do.

~That Dude Eddie~

Please don’t forget to share this. 

Love and Peace.

 

Can You Guys Do Me a Favor?

Heya guys, I was wondering if someone could write a review for one of my poems on your blog. This would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!

 

Whistling Whistle-Master

Thank you, Sugar-Sugar. You’re my only friend, Sugar-Sugar. Propose a toast for the narrow path ahead. Pulse, pulse. A heart. A misunderstood, limp, set of words. “What do you mean?” You’re loony, you’re gloomy, and the edge takes YOU to a place your MIND, never mind…..

has never been…

A little brown spot occupied the counter, Sugar-Salt. Out of place – a picture without a face. Salt. To and fro you go, Sugar-Sugar. We’ve made it.

~That Dude Eddie~

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Love and Peace.

 

Giant Room

Footstep, footstep on the dissolving floor. Where is my home? Tangled beneath the tangible jungles of ambiance. “Boo,” says the ghost, “who,” asks the lonely girl on the swing who’s hair is caged by the ashes of distraught demons. Weird. Or rather, wired by corpses. The horses occupy the trolls who’s faces imitate the lost souls frozen in dysfunctional places. This writing…? Pointless. Who’s diary does this account for? What fist is South Pawed? These, those, my foes, I suppose. Close the book.

~That Dude Eddie~

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Love and Peace.