Even the water wants to preserve this Reflection is its blind way of painting; The world can be a frightened, dumb abyss
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Oh god I’m trying to be clever What rhymes with September? Denver? All have is intrusive thoughts That I write down and pass off as poems
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Oh god, it’s September! I wish I couldn’t remember I’ve been in such a hurry Scurrying here and there It’s that time of year
It’s more important to press pen to paper Before the thoughts disappear into vapor But an aberration of the mind Like the clocks chiming
Like coffee and cigarettes Unfiltered and raw Is how I draw the thoughts from my mind Sometimes it’s the only way I can unwind
Unfiltered and unflattering A little of this A spattering of that I always write off the cuff There’s not much time to think about it
Odysseus, you hick, you hot hayseed You brash bumpkin from rocky Ithaca! Athena to your every need paid heed; Your smile was my pain’s prolegomena
The mind sees what the eyes refuse to see The road to hell is paved with well behaved slaves Constructing staves to save my mind
Watching fall through a hospital window Having sought aid for your sensitive mind Which gleaned more from life's old book than most know
Adorned by the atrocity, bemoaned by the call In the dire stance of existence, the elusiveness of stillness in its mirth had its stall.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
I owe you a sincere apology For falling into this odd world too late To study language and psychology And understand your look, so desolate
You’re my hedonism Your kisses have saved me From my isthmus of sorrow You indulge my whims And I hang on your words Forever tied together
