Poetry

The contents of this page are all copyrighted and all copyrights are held by me.

All poems are the original works of Bobby Lorett.

To Long Have I Waited.

To long have I waited for justice, to long have I waited for peace, to long have I waited for that which should already belong to me.

To long have I waited for love, to long have I waited for trust, to long it seems for the concept is almost dust.

To long have I waited for answers, to long have I waited in prayer on my knees, to long for the man upstairs to respond, I believe.

To long have I waited for the perfect life, to long have I waited for protection in this one, to long have I waited with this belief that I have a defect.

To long have I waited in desperate need, to long have I desired to want to believe in a perfect life, in a perfect time, where children are never the victims of crime, where everyone is happy, or at least safe, To long I have waited without peace.

Bobby Allen Lorett

Violent Crime Survivor

A world Bleak and Saddened

A world that’s bleak saddened, scarred and bare.

A soul that’s fragile trying to mend its tear.

A time that doesn’t allow for that, so his heart becomes elusive, the Cheshire cat.

Reality a bleak, scarred, saddened place. One day no child shall see that on his face.

An On-looker I’m Hurt

Like an Angel with no wings, no way to flutter to the rescue. No saving grace-an on-looker I’m hurt.

Like a member of the audience I sit as I watch the horror story unfold and the whole thing take place-an on-looker I’m hurt.

Like an on-looker I’m Hurt, My life, my time. Where was I? I, an on-looker was hurt…I looked on  as I was hurt.

AN ON-LOOKER I WAS HURT!

Be Real Take Your Time

Sometimes I want to cry

Be real take your time

Sometimes life’s mysteries upset me

Be real take your time

Sometimes it hurts to know things

Be real take your time

Sometimes I wish I would die

Be real take your time

Sometimes I want to Cry.

Days Old

Pizza Days Old: Lifeless, tasteless, cold

Soda-Pop Days Old: flat, useless, trash

Newspaper Days Old: Past due, unnecessary, junk

Life Days Old: Blank, new, to be done, miraculous, truth, innocent, beautiful…

Empty

I say that I feel ‘empty’ does that mean that I’m empty? I say I feel frightened does that mean I’m a coward? I say that things in this world are broken…People here me…Nothing…Are they too Empty?

Finding My Heart

Finding my heart where did it go?

Find my heart, could it be with my soul?

Was it buried with my innocence?
Was it cast to sea with my life? Returned to the beaches as strife?

Finding my heart I cannot seem to cry.

Finding my heart makes my ask ‘why?’

Finding it all it is in one place. True?

In a place locked away from realities cruel truth.

For Shivers I need.

For shivers I need warmth.

For hunger, food I need.

For thirst, water, my tongue will plea.

For pain a quick fix all…

          ~

Learn to move

Onward from

Very bad life occurrences

Excel in matters of the heart.

I am weary God knows that.

I am weary God knows that, he sees that I need rest.

Oh, but none of that, so he places me amidst this hell ever sure to burn. And leaves me to suffer; nothing of my crimes I learn. So, I set and wait screaming inside wondering how long I’ll be alive. Think constantly over and over should I bury my head and take cover?

I am weary God knows that…

Just Once More.

Just once more a slice or two, a little release for a child whom hell knew. He grew to a strong little boy old inside, 10 to be. He learned to hate the work and himself too. He learned that nothing could make up for the truth.

Hurt, scalded, scarred, burned inside. Breathing, but barely alive inside: Nothing to see here same old story, same old song.

Just once more a slice or two. The child is a man now and asks himself is that my truth? Yes, to feel better it might due, but eternity is with me I’ll let it go fluid.

Life’s Trails

Life full of road hazards, traps and snares

Life full of teats, lost happiness throughout the years.

Time record of failure proud to serve

Time acknowledging the things that don’t change all to well.

Peace missing from the heart that’s mine

Peace a though not guaranteed to all.

Boundaries broken like a hammer to a wall

Boundaries misunderstood while we try to stand tall.

Minutes that forget me standing here cold, tired and growing old.

Minutes that leave me forgetting the time I have left.

Trails that grow over with scars and deceit a life that is troubled hidden here kept.

Trails to someplace I’ll never know, because of a life I never was shown. For so I needed and was denied standing in my corner I cry: "if only they helped," "if only it weren’t." If only my innocence hadn’t been burnt.

Miracles Occur

Miracles occur that I know is true sometimes only God is aware, not you.

He gives to you: People to cry for and with, saving you from your hour of death.

He gives you compassion, through struggles you learn, so when you find out; the desire to start clear.

Miracles Occur I’ve learned that now. Nothing is impossible in your darkest hour so, put down your troubles and concerns and give your pains to him. All that you can do now is believe miracles occur.

New Year New World!?

The bells that chimed their ancient toll, the days that have grown short and cold. We stand now clear and not adjudged thinking clearly resolutions, yet we won’t budge. So we don’t change but the times they do, and so not the truths are unto you. As light is too dark so is reality to a meadowlark one sad and one joyous with spring. The New Year is ours now to behold! Another year, I’m beginning to feel old. A new Year, but a new World!

Placing me.

Placing me in the stars would the constellations show scars?

Placing me in the sea would the waters and depths protect me?

Placing me in the sky would I finally be understood by all?

Placing me in the wind would it all finally be a breeze?

Placing me in the trees would I grow strong and tall?

Placing me is difficult they’ll never understand, that for me it hurts to stay placed here in this land.

Prized Pains

You hold them up to the light hoping to see the flaw-to fix it-Prized Pains.

You put them in your safekeeping spot locked away just for you-Prized Pains.

You deny the lump in the rug is dirt underneath-"must be abnormal air"-Prized Pains.

You put them on display your trophy case polished and full-Prized Pains.

You take them down and look and learn observing the time you’ve kept them tossing them out for the dust is thick and you can’t stand it they feel like wool and look like razor silk.

Stop

Stop asking, Stop wondering, don’t ask why?

Stop wanting to know truths hidden in the eye,

Stop chasing the devil to corners beyond you.

‘Let go and Let God,’ that’s what I’ll do.

I’ll take my time, I’ll not ask why? But have faith in a time when it’ll all be right!

The Blade, The Truth, Me

The Blade cuts, The Truth hurts Me.

The Blade goes deep; The Truth is all over Me.

The Blade leaves a cut; The Truth leaves a scar on Me.

The Blade offers relief from The Truth that belongs to Me.

To hell with The Blade,

To hell with The Truth,

It is only ME!

The Smell of Old.

The smell of old: comfort, saddening, scary, love, all that and more. Funny how an old box those memories can store locked in a place that time renders useless and abandons a place I wish to nestle my head and rest.

The smell of old no longer vibrant but cold.

Tired

Tired of waiting for justice tired of waiting for proof tired of waiting to see if it is all a ‘spoof’!

Tired of waiting for innocent tired of waiting for God. Tired of waiting for someone the short straw to draw.

Tired of Guilt, of shame and blame. Tired of all these tiresome games.

Tired of asking the question ‘why’? Tired of waiting to die.

Tired of wanting better and getting only this. Tired of expecting someday just the best.

Tired of waiting for someone to fix what’s wrong

Most of all I’m tired of children knowing sad songs.

When I’m Fixed

Kids that laugh cruelly in jest-a true test.

Wait till when I’m fixed

Cruel action by protectors-cruel and unjust

Wait till when I’m fixed

Cuts I’ve made along my thigh, blood as red as velvet, it hurts a little but not much.

Just wait till when I’m fixed

I hurt they don’t understand. Lost, I am.

Just wait till when I’m fixed

When I’m fixed without worries or fret

When I’m fixed my soul out of debt

When I’m fixed, when I’m okay

Someday, When I’m fixed

You Can’t Run You Can’t Hide

You are here to be punished to live a bad life.

You cannot win, you cannot succeed, you cannot run or hide.

You are here as a witness to life’s miserable decay.

You are here forever born to live this way.

You cannot win, you cannot succeed, you cannot run or hide.

You are here now remember that nothing inside is as painful as what was but, you are here now remember.

I cannot win, I cannot succeed, I can’t run or hide.

There are many, many to many, out there like you. They are scattered and scarred and some own the stars.

They won, they succeeded, they didn’t run or hide.

So, it’s up you now the way that you live the way that you die.

I HAVE WON; I WILL SUCCEED, NO MORE RUNNING NO MORE HIDING.

When Summer comes.

When summer comes the air is hot.

When summer comes the woods are sought..

When summer comes I'll run away.

I'll dream of moon lit hay.

I'll live inside my head, my body lay lifeless, my hopes dead.

I'll stay here in the times of the stars and think of days peace, of ease, of times that are mine.

In ways that surprise you I'm alive parts of me you didn't know existed thrive.

When summer comes the days are long.

When summer comes the body grows strong.

When summer comes.

Denied

Miracles denied while I cried

Times I wanted to die, a life I despised.

Things that didn’t fit into the allotted time.

Days when my tears I denied

A life, a crime, a time I denied.

March 15, 2003

Bobby Allen Lorett

Traitor

He was a traitor, a wretch and the devil.

Hovering as he did in a position to meddle.

People so innocent as an audience without knowing.

It went on unspoken until the time for telling.

I was hurt, burnt, and bruised, battered, torn, used and abused.

At his grave I will stand alone inside finally rid of him and forgive the traitor who was a wretch and a devil.

Aug. 27, 2003

Bobby Allen Lorett

Fall Out

Tired of the fall out. The endless bombs dropping, falling, plopping in to my hands. Sealing my fate. Making me regret and mourn my birth date. I am mad, scared, running. What? you might ask is this all about? 
The Fall Out.

Jan. 21, 2004

Bobby Allen Lorett

I've tasted hate.

To tired to see reality

To tired to know what's real

To blind to give a shit anymore

To wise to know to trust fate. "No thanks," I say to hate

I have tasted bitter and I have tasted Sweet. I loved the cake but the itchen it came from is not of my taste.

Thanks, but not thanks Fate.

I've tasted hate.

Jan. 21, 2004

Bobby Allen Lorett

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