Sorry, I am a worthless disappoin… Sorry, you know what’s best for me… Sorry, I opened my mouth because… Sorry you gave birth to me because… Sorry God righteous Mother for br…
May be I’m not the one you’re loo… May be I’m not the right one you’… May be I’m not the sight you’re s… May be I’m not the light you’re l… May be I’m just a passerby,
I don’t wanna be a prime. Or as bitter as a lime Spending all my time alone I’d rather be a lemon So
I hide form everyone Not wanting anyone to see who I a… Not wanting to be judged Or to be punished for what I’ve d… I’m such a criminal
A gentleman, to give us somewhat n… Hath brought up OXFORD with him… Pray be not frighted—Tho the scae… The Universities, the wit’s the t… The lines each honest Englishman…
By Stanley Collymore People, who are most decidedly happy and quite contented too to undoubtedly, readily do the bidding, clearly whatever that act…
Imagine walking through a tunnel. A cold, dark, damp tunnel. Imagine, the fear you must feel... Imagine the uncertainty. This tunnel is never-ending...
I can not recall his heyday; for… When his curly hair had thinned a… That he kept the local fruit shop… For our Captain Curly Taplin was… The details of his uniform grow va…
Every day Miss Mary goes her roun… Through the splendid house and thr… Looking if the kitchen table’s whi… Seeing if the great big fire’s ali… Finding specks on shining pans and…
You’re staring at the same moon Your hearts playing the same tune I remember your eyes so bright I think of you every night Then I fall asleep and dream of
To dance the night away, Then lay in arms cuddling all day, Seems to me the perfect way…. A special someone to with share th… Dreams of loves new start,
She will let the tears flow. She will let the blood drain. She got tired of all the pain. She finally lost the war. She finally let them win.
By Stanley Collymore Some say that sex is over rated, while others swear there isn’t enough of it about– I say: just get on with what
With an abrupt rush of adrenaline, this reality appears like fiction amidst no repercussions for your a… Nothing that is environing you it’… The appearance in the mirror is a…
Let me not, ever, to the marriage… Of Galilee admit the slightest se… Of doubt about the astonishing and… Of chance and choice to throw a sh… Of disbelief in truth—Love is not…
Stripped to the waist, his copper-… Red from the smouldering heat of h… Lean as a wolf in winter, fierce o… As all wild things that hunt for f… War paint adorning breast and thig…
Beautiful, vibrant flowers of May… filled the landscape as far as I c… but late in the afternoon one day, I find her swinging sweetly from a… Her delicate frame held by wood an…
You all fall carelessly You do not understand The gravity of my fight With your locked free Spirited ways which makes
What lies a head is not yet written. I will fill the pages on this book with my own hand. Nothing will decide my fate. The world will not mold me, it will not turn me to its own image, ...
What if... my last words were it’s not your fault
I still can’t wrap my head around, Your frail hand, Your weak breathing, The fear in your eyes as the sun w… That wasn’t my mammaw.
By Stanley Collymore In the UK all wills are compulsor… in the public domain except those of the Windsors, Britain’s supposedly monarchical f…
In her dementia, My mother got kinder And funnier. Often she was enchanted by the peo… Who she thought were running a bro…
She said she was looking for somet… Something that breaks through the… Embraces the day. Something that shatters worlds and… Something different.
As the poor ass that from his padd… Might sound abroad his field-compa… Recounting volubly their well-bred… Their port impressive and their we… Mistaking for the world’s assent t…
i am a sentimental physicist. observing
drinking aromatic coffee and writi… in the tired morning whatever happened to those ingenious couch cartoons? we used to cruise our bikes
The water bottle falls victim agai… incrementally pushed to its premat… as he menaces around the nightstan… He is small, soft, and orange, sweet yet adorably annoying,
Our palm designed to grow In deserts, sent roots seeking far… Channels where waters flow. And in the city found Intricate pipings where the waters…
the struggle is non-existent, the paranoia insistent. my old tricks of listening to my pulse to drag me under dont work, instead i end up smothered by my own skin and gasping for someth...