Time And Struggles (Hello, Alice Is Away May I Take Your Message?)

Struggling is servival,
to be tied down
is to struggle to move.

I know the feeling very well,
I can’t move like you,
I don’t think like you,
I don’t grow up right like you,
I don’t give up so quickly
like you do,
I fight.

I grow through the wall’s,
I jump highper in my mind,
I run through time,
in my imagination there is no restrictions of time,
there is no mountain
that won’t move for me.

Time is a ticking ruler
measuring my decay,
it’s a testimony to aging,
a face with awkward hand’s,
one smaller than the other,
going in circles,
one tick at a time I go crazy.

Hello Alice, how are you today?
Oh I am decaying at a slow rate,
soon all that will be left of me
are a pile of bones.

You can blow me away,
like a wish you can only
use me once.

Beep! please leave your message after the beep and I will do my best to get back to you.

Oops I forgot to save the beep for last.
Alice didn’t last…

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

“Crazy running through the streets, striping mind’s from media lies. I come through the static as white light runs your lives. Crazy is as crazy does.”

I was bored so I decided to write this. It’s just for fun.


Hard To Breathe

When did it get so hard to breathe?
When you accused me.
I have nothing else to give
because you have all of me.

I suffer through,
I hurt too.
Yet still you don’t give a damn,
except about you.

I fought hard,
my angel’s fought harder,
yet you won beating me harder.

I die each time you accused me.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

“To my broken love, he knows who he is.💔

Quote & Artwork 

“To be a creative thinker
you need to dream.

Awake or sleep a dream
can still follow you.”

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

The Writer Is A Dreamer 

I once fell from the sky,
only to be awakened by the fall.

I opened my eyes to find
my bedroom wall’s
where there the whole time.

Dreamers can imagine,
but writer’s can imagine
and relate to the dreamers.

That’s why we write and read.

Inspiration is the key
to imagining great things.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Love Never Fades

Across the vastness of space
my love never fades.

Like a star it grows,
expanse, and tames
the space around its shape.

The universe knows that love
makes things grow,
it feels the vibration,
as we fall in love.

Molecular structures weaken,
only to rebuild.

love never dies
it just goes on vacation.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton


One becomes two,
two becomes three,
but but but wait
go on and on and on and…

1,2,3 go again,
1,2,3 go again,
1,2,3 go again,
you see I can’t help being on repeat.
repeat. repeat.
Do it again. again. again.

1,2,3 go again,
1,2,3 go again,
1,2,3 go again,
you see I can’t help being on repeat.
repeat. repeat.
Do it again. again. again.

Now lock your door,
nope unlock it again,
now lock your door,
nope unlock it again.

1,2,3 do it again. again. again.
1,2,3 do it again. again. again.
1,2,3 do it again. again. again.

OCD yep on no here I go again.
again. again.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

“I loved writing this it was so satisfying. The mind of OCD.” 

Legacy Of A Poet

Your uniqueness,
and diversity is your legacy.

You birth difects, organs,
and I ideas.

You are the philosopher
of your own life,
you are the writer
of your own destination,
you write your own plot’s
and paths.

I wrote a line and walked
upon its graphite structure,
leaving behind my fingerprints.

Like men on the moon,
I walked the dusty surface
of poetry,
leaving my footprints in its page’s.

I wrote this rhyme,
because I understand that
I am a philosopher of poetic ideas
and design.

I am a philosogher,
a poet by design.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Poetic Skin 

When you roll back the tongue
of a poet,
you will find their inspiration,
the likes of
Edgar Allan Poe,
Emily Dickinson,
Stephen King,
Anne Rice,
and broken hearts,
broken mind’s eager to write.

Music is nothing without
the poet who chose to write
lyrics, strumming each line,
drumming and screaming each line.

Emotions explode,
like stars
and planets,
they build and
birth poetry and word’s,
leaving behind a raw format.

When you roll back the tongue of
a poet,
you will find secrets of the universe,
the Galaxy’s grow,
life planned its path,
upon the tongues of the poets
who wrote the possibility
of creativity.

It blooms upon the tongue of a poet,
creating the formats,
structure, and plot,
poetry is a rolling tongue spitting out emotions and struggles.

Sometimes it cuts like a knife,
leaving its ghostly scares
upon my poetic skin.
Leaving me with a tougher skin.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Bruised Heart Lost Its Flow

My heart is sore,
it’s hard for me to breathe
at times.

You seem not to care
I don’t understand your need
for more,
or your need to push
and bully.

Life never slows down for you,
life never speeds up for you,
you have to go in the direction life chose for you.

Once you stop fighting it’s flow,
life will seem easier,
and more precious then ever before.

Life trys to teach you patience,
it trys teaching you how to grow,
but it is up to you where you go.

I am always behind you,
never do you put my needs
to the front of the line.

You act as if you think life should stop for you, as if you don’t have time.

You have more than you know my friend, you have more than most do.

You don’t even have to work for a dime,
or wait for others to take care of you.

You don’t seem to notice
all the time I have given to us.

You seem to notice everything
you think you lack,
instead of remembering
all our good times
we’ve had.

I wish I could open your eyes
show you everything you have.

I think it wouldn’t matter to you though
because you hardly see past
your nose.

Half of the time,
I don’t know if I can trust you,
I don’t know if I should.

Should I be questioning myself
or should I let you go?

It’s hard sometimes.

My heart is sore,
and my mind is tired.

I think you don’t care,
you only see yourself in such times like these.

All I can do is pray for you,
while I am on my knees
crying for you.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

“I pray for my heart that he will come back to me. I pray he stops judging me. I pray he finds peace.”  

Moldy Bread

You grew on top my bread,
slowly you spread across the surface,
like grass; you grew fast,
green, brown, and black.

You came and ate my bread,
you stole my gluten and fat,
you gobbled it up just like that.

I will never leave my bread out
on the counter again,
I will close the package tightly,
making sure you can’t make entry.

I hate moldy bread,
it’s not healthy.

© 2017 Amanda D Shelton