lloyd-dylan-sarcasm

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

MOMENTS.

Some ‘have’ conversation

some ‘make’ conversation

‘making’ conversation suggests

reluctantly talking

‘having’ conversation suggests

something sweet.

Like plucking a tree nectar.

I avoid so many

but when sweet conversations come.

I HAVE to have them

hearts of gold bantering

and pouring into life’s 

sweetly absurd yet meaningful

encounters.

It’s often strange folks,

who offer this sweet conversation.

And I’m no interesting guy.

I have little to offer

but I get along…

I have my sweet once in a 

lifetime conversations often.

LIFE is meaningful to me.

LIFE is sunrise, convos, smiles,

and sunsets.

LIFE is sharing.

So many people are brutal though.

We must fight through the 

BRUTAL

to find those once-in-a-lifetime

moments.

Those are YOURS and MINE…

So talk until you puke from

annoyance

talk until sentiment melts you.

or appreciate silent moments

like me, just in wonder

at someone’s happiest company..

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

SINNERS.

SOME go whole lives, never feeling alone.

some go whole lives alone.

some encourage those in tears

some can’t see past their self-absorbed tears.

Some can’t leave tears behind.

Some FORGET to bottle them

Some sinners never SMILE

Some repent for miles

Some resist Grace

ALL hate

Some lonely people LOVE MORE

Some beat wench-dogs love more

Some sheltered with love, ABUSE

Some CHOOSE grace

Some plead humble mercy

Some feel ugly inside.

ALL SIN

I’m ugly inside.

YET. REDEEMED.

HEAD. ABOVE. WATER.

SO. BLESSED.

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

NO CHOICE.

My darkness is utterly mine.

I’m responsible for it

never wallow in it..

I feel it

trusting in Jesus.. I see light.

But I am my own darkness.

in faith I TRUST.

darkness is not my future life story

but my darkness is MINE.

to conceal.

My realist-heart conceals its pain

revealing small anti-dark glimmers

(so I can heal)

I’m not darkness

I’m not darkness

Jesus took it…

I’m not darkness

I’m not darkness

At least I’m responsible 

the monster I am.

psychologically kissing honesty to heal

A man carries on

with NO. CHOICE.

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

MASKLESS.

I know my words are not good..

They’re sharp, and de-dignify those bubblegum

people and things around me.

I’m flawed, far from perfect.

A pain in the butt.

there’s no good side to my coin.

It is what it is.

My “poetry” is filth. to love or hate.

I’ve tried writing pretty…

but my honesty is ugly.

my “pretty” is reserved… for someone

close and dear.

People took so much,

All I have left is this filth

I’m shedding.

In hopes its honesty

may be a force of good.

Life is a special special

short straw in God’s eternity’s 

righteous providential grand scheme.

we get one straw.

to love others’ maskless

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

JUST YEA.

Accepted my solitude.

I shook hands with its lame shadow.

an unspoiled peace

gaining character,

When I let go of pity

One of Life’s great gifts

was learning solitude is not a SCAR

it’s medicinal darkness

without it..

I would CAVE more than I know.

solitude is a thicker skin.

nothing more, nothing less. 

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

PURPOSE AND DIGNITY.

delicate hope

weekends blur by.

losing touch

I’m a crumbled Petal

reciting old-life blossoms gone.

A second life in the dirt.

counting traumas and my wrongs.

All I see is dirt…

I miss the breeze and sky

I’m a hopeful petal

surrounded by LIVE Flowers.

Then the RAIN comes.

And I decrumble.

I decorate the tranquil path..

with my honest dead beauty

in the dirt.

You know all those petals that

fall along paths? (that’s me)

I’m a loser in dirt.

Grounded, IN ground.

All the surrounding flowers

brag 

And sway in the breeze.

But they don’t know…

I FELL for a reason.

To LIGHT UP the path..

where flower stems and proud

petals 

CAN’T GO.

I fell FROM THE FLOWER

to live in Lowkey purpose..

for matters the “greater

flower”

may NEVER understand

That’s. my. poet’s. purpose…

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

DISARM.

Babe… disarm me

I chaotically mean it, pleading for painless. Love.

I’m far away. emotionally,

crawling into sensitivity.

A non-wilting flower. Is your Love.

Full of Loving wonder.

this world is blurry.

And you’re NOT

I was abused

AND my thorns are sharp.

My heart is a hated feather,

blowing Nowhere,

dreaming… hoping… loving…

loving… The serene

ghostly compliments and 

words, that YOU

echo into existence…

my pain blossomed, to

compliment you.

As you swim in my

scars.

disarm me.

I’ll swim in yours…

holding your chin up

entirely…

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

THOUGHT I WAS IN LOVE.

chilling 

regret

swimming in depths

poetic breaths 

call on my freedom.

believe (with me)

gothic autumn-leaves love

sunrise pain

your chilling breath, your chilling personality.

ALWAYS there.

NOT Loving me

A.N.Y.M.O.R.E.

I’m your local rearview ghost.

discarded into your Life’s melody.

I’m still chill.

Still. the. same.

just more poetic.

kissing your whispering smile

Your antagonizing beauty memory..

I must let go… of this PAIN.

Your ghost can go

be free.

be happy

completely away from me.

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

THANK.

I Love Japanese culture.

Haiku, and rap.

complete brevity of emotion

observance of beauty,

“soul’ and heart’s economy”

Little few words.

smiling acting KRAZY FREE in chillness.

I’m not Japanese,

my chest fills with admiring JOY

Such a culture exists.

-Beauty exists on earth

My insensitive perhaps foolishly clumsy raw words

CAN’T COMPARE.

To the Basho haikus I admire.

I feel it in my soul…

How beautiful raw, Japanese culture,

Reminds Outcasts like me, with a 

rough and ugly personality, that

I’m HUMAN.

And with cherry blossoms 

I rejoice!

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

CLUB SUNSET.

A Simple Vision…

Hoping my old age is near a sunset.

Japan or Hawaiian country side

pen in hand.

writing high stakes old-man words…

My seventy-year old beauty wife

suntanning (in front)

I’m old, leathery, and grateful

writing STILL young words…

Words then bore me more…

But my wife tells me to write.

But… writing is secretly 

still my confused compulsion

Wife,

Sunset,

Pen,

I kiss my wife

In the sunset,

All sunburnt, Lovestruck…

She YELLS at me not to 

write.

Are sunsets specially for old 

people?

Is it called CLUB SUNSET?

CAN’T WAIT TO GO!

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

LETTING GO.

Letting Go

Not giving a crap.

Poetic revenge on odds.

Deep anger.

People let themselves go

When the world smiles at THEIR nothing.

to.

lose.

And then I grin like a 

wenched out

beat dog.

At the world, at Odds

I am not Nothing. to. lose.

But I have nothing. to. lose.

(There’s a difference)

I trust in God.

People let themselves go

I Let myself go

I Let myself go

Serenity is euphoric (it

comes and comes)

Social media is a dumpster

where people

Fake happiness

down other’s throats…

I will not fake it (happiness)

Mine is private.

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

I'D WIPE YOUR TEARS.

I’m messed up.

but I won’t compare my pain with

yours.

because spitefully comparing 

pains is more foolish than

walking into some foolish pain

The other person’s story is more…

Always more…

Always more…

I believe A priority,

Because honour,

Because honour,

always recognizes self sacrificial 

priority.

Regardless if your pain IS more,

Why do we always need

to shout that?…

humans can’t help it.

Pain is not selfish currency for later.

Pain becomes strength to LISTEN

to someone in pain Later.

My pain is now channelled into jokes

that I say,

I have no time for someone to wipe my

tears with baby wipes (though I need it!)

BUT I’m in Real pain no lie,

I was young and stupid.

My redeeming quality after All my

stupid mistakes,

Is that I can channel my pain (By God’s grace).

Into listening to another’s pain in

silence.

And in my quiet compassionate silence.

I feel a redeeming feeling

because I know Jesus loves the 

other person and me.

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

LOVING AND......

If my heart were dramatic,

Would you or someone kill it?

PEOPLE. TRIED.

I’m careful who I show it’s drama.

Sometimes it feels life and death,

to convince this world your heart

IS drama-less

No “right” woman ever made it 

open and

purr like a safe-soft Lion.

She’ll be legit.

Like Legit, funny, pretty, (All I look

for)

She’ll be RIGHT when

she becomes my DRAMA.

for my drama-less heart to

dramatize 

over like an idiot :-)

But isn’t that romance’s greatest

philosophical treasure?

To be an idiot for someone? :-)

((happiness))

All harshness aside, I’m open to 

-”drama” for a woman.

I’m open to love a beautiful soul…

I want to..

My heart is so closed though.

(for her) til she comes to lovingly

annoy me.

I’m an UGLY Lover.

I can be an idiot

I’m not this cold

I’m not this cold

I’m alright

I’m alright….

And…..

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

EACH DAY.

THINGS FLOW

PEOPLE Grow old

MOMENTS are better experienced than told.

LOVE wanes predictably or blossoms untold.

LOVE Blossoms unlikely.

TRUST doesn’t blossom.

TRUST LEAPS.

Hearts grow bitter

Hearts blossom UNTOLD

You can’t force LOVE

You can’t force hearts to LOVE

BLOSSOMS don’t TRUST

BLOSSOMS, LEAP…

EACH DAY…

Through trauma and HATE, But they LOVE…

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

GUILTY OR FLEEK?

Sometimes I write.

And the CREATIVE flow feels so fleek that…

I stop and look around (at my surroundings)

to make sure no-one sees me…

Does any other poets ever do that?

Because like as a poet, I like to be ALONE

When the creative juices flow and the 

light-bulbs go off in my head.

I guess writing (truly) might be 

a guilty-compulsive activity 

of my madness.

MAYBE it’s because I’m afraid 

that my idea was “so good”, that

a dark secret ninja will come

out of shadows and stab me

before I can publish my idea.

YES! that must be it…

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

TO BE PUMPED? OR NOT TO BE PUMPED?

How pumped is David Goggins?

I think he’s so pumped, that people just hate.

I too. Am pumped, about compulsively writing bad poetry.

I too. Am pumped about Korean, Japanese, female catchy rap and Neil Young.

I too. Am pumped about loving my family (til death)

David Goggins is a butterfly who hates cocoons.

I too. am a butterfly who is disgusted with old

cocoons.

Like scars, pains, and old trauma crap, and old hurtful relationships.

I too. enjoy flying past life’s non-sense

If there’s one thing I will never hate on, it’s

someone being passionately pumped.

I hope, I just hope.. I can be as pumped

as inspiring’ Goggins about writing

my bad horrid poetry.

And if in the future my Son or Daughter

is pumped, I will encourage and guide.

~~By: Dylan Ledingham

[lloyd-dylan-sarcasm]

BUT MY DOG.....

I Love my dog.

he’s oblivious.

he’s alpha.

unconditional Love.

It’s like his blindness to neglect is a superpower.

Here I am daydreaming to make a living writing 

of more peace

And he’s daydreaming of a pat on the head.

He craps and runs down trails and inhales kibble.

His beautific un-mundane life, his quiet strength.

Sometimes I neglect him like an idiot.

Then he sprints to me all daydreamy and happy

Like he thinks I’m some perfect being

Dogs are a heavenly daydream on earth.

They make me even question reality; by their goodness.

A dogs love is something only special eyes

can see.

AND all dogs see that.

~~By: Dylan Ledingham