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Reflections of a Superfluous Mind 2

Reflections of a Superfluous Mind 2

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Reflections of a Superfluous Mind 2

74 pagine
1 ora
Jul 30, 2013


Poems and rhythmic prose, each of these reflections tell a story about love, life, joy, happiness, fact. fiction, depression, and inspiration. Some are serious, some are just for fun, some rhyme, some don't, but they are from my creative heart.

Jul 30, 2013

Informazioni sull'autore

I am retired from the U.S. Navy since 2003, currently work as a merchant seaman. I write in all types of media,from songs, to poetry, novels as well as short stories.

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Reflections of a Superfluous Mind 2 - Marvin Perkins

Reflections of a Superfluous Mind Two

A Smashwords Editions

Published by Smashwords

Copyright 2013 by Marvin K. Perkins

Reflections of a Superfluous Mind Two

The Unpardonable Sin

Cut the vein, feel no pain, crimson drops on the floor.

Bath water red, a girl lie dead, can't go on like before.

Flooded tile, bloated vile, so sad to die alone.

No note left hanging, a stranger banging, the ringing of the phone.

Police rush in to find, they were not in time, to save the young girl's soul.

She's gone to meet her maker, I only hope He'll take her, or she'll end up down below.

I Am So Glad to Be a Man

Her hair was like a flowing breeze, her eyes twinkled like a star.

I knew she was the one for me, though I only saw her from afar.

Lips as red as cherry pop, I long to taste, so much.

Her ample firm bosoms made me linger a while, oh yes to touch.

A flat stomach lie further down, oh so smooth and tan

When I see such a lovely creature, I am so glad to be a man.

Someone Who Cares.

A failed delusion I knew I was too optimistic to dream.

I could be anything more special than what I seemed to be.

A work of mediocrity, just a sad excuse for a wanna be star.

Who was never able to shine so bright as to be seen from afar.

I fizzled and faded, tried to get up, got knocked down again.

Back slapped by life, but worst of all, I was betrayed by so called friends.

But I learned one lesson through all the pain, that I'd like to share.

Even a crappy life, can be a good one, if you have someone who cares.

The Last Verse

If I could write a verse that was so perfect and so clear

As to describe every feeling ever felt, I'd write it right here.

It would be beautiful and sad, and speak of undying love.

Tragic and happy, heart and soul, like God up above.

It would be the last poem that would ever need to be penned.

And I would never feel the need to speak of poetic things, ever again.

Out of Rhymes

A panther chased a spirit man through the forest green.

A one eyed Brontosaurus grazed on a tree branch somewhere in between.

A crocodile ate the Lochness monster, finished he did smile.

Big foot plodded down a trail that seemed to go on for miles.

The Incredible Hulk ripped the head off of King Kong, and held it in the air.

John Travolta danced the twist with J-Lo and Fred Astaire.

A looney tune cartoon.

A man smiling at the moon.

Cats in the cradle with a silver spoon.

Let's have Christmas in June.

I hope this poem ends pretty soon.

'Cause I 'm running out of rhymes.

He Only Sought the Glory

Another year has come and gone, still I search for the meaning.

Am I to die a miniscule molecule never living up to my full potential?

Just a small cog in a huge machine, lost in plain view.

Always hoping desperately to be noticed, but always overlooked.

My mundane world consists of monotony that can only be described as tediously boring.

I think I would lose my mind, if I knew in fact where I left it.

If I should die in this fashion, remember I was a man of words and stories.

Inscribe on my tombstone the following words: He didn't write for the money, he only sought the glory.

True Love

A sad little bird sat solitary on a tree branch chirping a sad melody.

No other bird in the whole wide world was near as sad as he.

He had lost his true love, for another bird she had flown.

A heartache and melancholy overwhelmed him, the likes he'd never known.

He sat there day after day, until in the cold he could see his breath.

Then quietly chirping to himself, he finally froze to death.


A grand daughter is the most precious thing God ever put on this earth.

All lovely in pink, ribbons and bows in her hair of pretty curls.

She is the apple of her granddaddy's eye, the prize in his cracker jacks.

The sun rises and sets and the moon glows for her as a matter-of-fact.

And he would do anything, give anything, for just one of her smiles.

Walk across a burning wasteland, that stretches for a thousand miles.

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