Bad Poetry

The Last game.

When i think of it my eyes will water
the pain i felt when it was all over.
I cannot explain the feeling i felt
the rips and terrors all over my heart.

I gave it my all, my best i tried
and failure was definitely not inside.
No matter what i did the end came bad
I could not help not feeling sad.

The Bumps and bruises, The scrapes and scars
The three-a-day practices in 100 degrees,
The hours of practicing I had with my team
The good and the bad I will not forget.

High school ball i wont play again.

Very Bad Poetry

What the hell am i rhyming for?
Designer shoes and designer clothes?
designer doors and designer cars?
hell nah,
i dont even wanna be star,
matter in fact
ill just barely make par.
i dont golf,
but i can pull a tiger
risk my life,
to cheat on my wife
i'll wound up in woods
the rest of my life.

impulse

M- hello, where are you headed to?

W- just headed to chicago what about yourself?

M- Ohhh i do not have a ticket yet.

W- oh i see

M- would it be weird if i told you you were beautiful

W- a little, i was expecting that though

M- what how?

W- Creapy guys like you always do this to me

M- oh thats weird

W- it happens.

M- you wanna go get some coffee?

W- with you? i dont think so.

M- come on give me a try

W- I dont want to miss my train

M- if you do ill give you a ride on my hovercraft.

W- hovercraft?

M- yes.

W- ok lets go