Poetry competition CLOSED 1st December 2019 7:21am
WINNER
lepperochan (Craic-Dealer)
lepperochan (Craic-Dealer)
RUNNERS-UP:
Jade-Pandora
and Razzerleaf
Your Poem
Myself, I Confess
Not just a survivor, I am a combatant
silently stalking the path least traveled
It's best you get out of my way
Else be prepared to pay
Your dignity will be my trophy
I am a gladiator, each day my arena
Fighting for just one more breath
I scream, I bleed, I plead, I fall
You’ll never get to savor my death
Once again I find strength after all
Dazed, shaken, yet I stand tall
I may be broken, haunted
exhausted beyond reason, taunted
You will never get me to kneel
I pray, take your best shot
See? You’ll never bring me to heel
For I am everything you are not
You believed yourself superior
legacies attached to your name
A pedestal was your footstool
Tell me, now who is the fool?
Adjust, adapt, do keep up
The world is no longer the same.
silently stalking the path least traveled
It's best you get out of my way
Else be prepared to pay
Your dignity will be my trophy
I am a gladiator, each day my arena
Fighting for just one more breath
I scream, I bleed, I plead, I fall
You’ll never get to savor my death
Once again I find strength after all
Dazed, shaken, yet I stand tall
I may be broken, haunted
exhausted beyond reason, taunted
You will never get me to kneel
I pray, take your best shot
See? You’ll never bring me to heel
For I am everything you are not
You believed yourself superior
legacies attached to your name
A pedestal was your footstool
Tell me, now who is the fool?
Adjust, adapt, do keep up
The world is no longer the same.
Written by inechoingsilence
Go To Page
THUS PLAYED ZARATHUSTRA
A Child of Rock & Roll
A farm boy from the Wisconsin cold
I didn’t like classical music at all
Till I found myself in a Movie Theater
Thinking I was about to see
Another Sci-Fi feature
But there were no
Monsters or Aliens
Instead a troupe of apes
Screaming and chattering
Till the breaking of the dawn
When one of the creatures
Discovered a bone
Could be used for a tool
Or a weapon of war
When he began breaking bones
The Vienna Philharmonic began
Playing the theme song 'Zarathustra'
I felt my hair stand up on end
Goose bumps rose on my skin
This was more than a Sci-Fi fantasy
This was 2001 A Space Odyssey
From that day I believe science
Does not contradict evolution
For humanity has, and will continue
To evolve both physically and spiritually
And when I look up into the starry night
I hear ‘Zarathustra’ played back in my mind
I am overwhelmed by the mystery
Of what we do not yet know
And in my wonder, I find spiritual ecstasy
When I was a farm boy, during the summer, I seldom saw friends unless we were doing field work together. The exception was Saturday night, when we’d meet at the old Gem Theater, in New Richmond Wisconsin. At that time my view of the world was limited. Till the night I saw 2001 Space Odyssey. Since, I’ve come to realize that there are no limits to my life or soul. ‘Zarathustra’ was more than an inspiration, it is a cosmic hymn.
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Bone+2001+Space+Odyssey+Music&&view=detail&mid=5E7FE22879B97BC6C9B85E7FE22879B97BC6C9B8&FORM=VRDGAR
A farm boy from the Wisconsin cold
I didn’t like classical music at all
Till I found myself in a Movie Theater
Thinking I was about to see
Another Sci-Fi feature
But there were no
Monsters or Aliens
Instead a troupe of apes
Screaming and chattering
Till the breaking of the dawn
When one of the creatures
Discovered a bone
Could be used for a tool
Or a weapon of war
When he began breaking bones
The Vienna Philharmonic began
Playing the theme song 'Zarathustra'
I felt my hair stand up on end
Goose bumps rose on my skin
This was more than a Sci-Fi fantasy
This was 2001 A Space Odyssey
From that day I believe science
Does not contradict evolution
For humanity has, and will continue
To evolve both physically and spiritually
And when I look up into the starry night
I hear ‘Zarathustra’ played back in my mind
I am overwhelmed by the mystery
Of what we do not yet know
And in my wonder, I find spiritual ecstasy
When I was a farm boy, during the summer, I seldom saw friends unless we were doing field work together. The exception was Saturday night, when we’d meet at the old Gem Theater, in New Richmond Wisconsin. At that time my view of the world was limited. Till the night I saw 2001 Space Odyssey. Since, I’ve come to realize that there are no limits to my life or soul. ‘Zarathustra’ was more than an inspiration, it is a cosmic hymn.
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Bone+2001+Space+Odyssey+Music&&view=detail&mid=5E7FE22879B97BC6C9B85E7FE22879B97BC6C9B8&FORM=VRDGAR
Written by snugglebuck
Go To Page
Dancing Under the Midnight Sun
Sunset is often viewed with trepidation and anxiety
I await the coming night in peace, and I quietly
Take out my notebook and look up at the sky
Once the moon comes out, my soul is ready to burst out and fly.
When the stars light up, a new journey has begun
My soul glows in delight when I’m dancing under the midnight sun
Universal forces embrace me as if we were old friends
Even when my body dies, my soul and imagination will never end.
The darkness of the night is nothing to be feared
Once the moon enters the heavens, it’s as if fear has disappeared
Its beauty and light have a special story to tell
My eyes can’t look away and I’m caught in an unearthly spell.
Without thought, my hands begin to write
Who would have thought that inspiration is strongest during the night?
The ethereal voices encourage me to pursue this life-long passion
My soul has been revitalized like a Phoenix rising from the ashes.
Sweet Luna, you are the mistress of the night sky, the only one
Who bathes me in light while I’m dancing under the midnight sun
As long as I draw breath and you still shine, my imagination is limitless
I hope to help others feel, just like me, absolute blissfulness.
I await the coming night in peace, and I quietly
Take out my notebook and look up at the sky
Once the moon comes out, my soul is ready to burst out and fly.
When the stars light up, a new journey has begun
My soul glows in delight when I’m dancing under the midnight sun
Universal forces embrace me as if we were old friends
Even when my body dies, my soul and imagination will never end.
The darkness of the night is nothing to be feared
Once the moon enters the heavens, it’s as if fear has disappeared
Its beauty and light have a special story to tell
My eyes can’t look away and I’m caught in an unearthly spell.
Without thought, my hands begin to write
Who would have thought that inspiration is strongest during the night?
The ethereal voices encourage me to pursue this life-long passion
My soul has been revitalized like a Phoenix rising from the ashes.
Sweet Luna, you are the mistress of the night sky, the only one
Who bathes me in light while I’m dancing under the midnight sun
As long as I draw breath and you still shine, my imagination is limitless
I hope to help others feel, just like me, absolute blissfulness.
Written by LunasChild8
Go To Page
Samurai Swag
Samurai Swag
To see what’s beyond what’s presented to my eyes and flesh,
to say yes or no when challenged by peers and plagues of society, to maintain my invisible composure when the odds are stacked against me,
my self-righteous attitude that remains
unshaken to the ignorance’s of the world,
it’s my undying confidence in myself and my abilities,
in all aspects, in all endeavors, racing past my past, accompanying my present, blazing to my future,
It’s my self-respect to do what is necessary,
which is being myself unwaivered, untainted, incorruptible,
It’s maintaining my perspective of what’s right,
disregarding blood ties, bonds of friendship,
or the capacity of love,
It is my code of honor I am forever chained to that keeps me steady and stead-fast,
It’s my courage to stand in the middle between the hurricane and the tornado without fear, to survive my storms and prepare to contest the next one,
It’s taking an arrow to the chest but still rushing into battle, armor shinning and battle cry still loud as thunder,
It is the sharpness of my sword that slices any Ninja that attempts to cross blades with me,
It’s my way, to die by my own sword, striking myself down not allowing the evils of my enemies the opportunity ,
it is to walk the path of the warrior for it is mine to walk,
my strike steady, my form graceful, both combined with strength, accuracy and power, this is the formula for my Samurai Swag.
Freelove
To see what’s beyond what’s presented to my eyes and flesh,
to say yes or no when challenged by peers and plagues of society, to maintain my invisible composure when the odds are stacked against me,
my self-righteous attitude that remains
unshaken to the ignorance’s of the world,
it’s my undying confidence in myself and my abilities,
in all aspects, in all endeavors, racing past my past, accompanying my present, blazing to my future,
It’s my self-respect to do what is necessary,
which is being myself unwaivered, untainted, incorruptible,
It’s maintaining my perspective of what’s right,
disregarding blood ties, bonds of friendship,
or the capacity of love,
It is my code of honor I am forever chained to that keeps me steady and stead-fast,
It’s my courage to stand in the middle between the hurricane and the tornado without fear, to survive my storms and prepare to contest the next one,
It’s taking an arrow to the chest but still rushing into battle, armor shinning and battle cry still loud as thunder,
It is the sharpness of my sword that slices any Ninja that attempts to cross blades with me,
It’s my way, to die by my own sword, striking myself down not allowing the evils of my enemies the opportunity ,
it is to walk the path of the warrior for it is mine to walk,
my strike steady, my form graceful, both combined with strength, accuracy and power, this is the formula for my Samurai Swag.
Freelove
Written by FreeLove87
(SamuraiEde)
Go To Page
Late One Night in Peculiar, Missouri
I had been driving south all day... and half the night.
Pulling my Gypsy Wagon.
Bound for Mag-no-li-a, Texas...
Then I saw the sign...
It said... "Peculiar"...
Food for thought, that.
I was feeling a little odd... on the nod... clearly
needing to sleep
So I pulled off the highway
and onto the feeder...
Come up on two Cop cars parked next to a Bank...
I got out of my pick-up... went over and joined 'em
Explaining my problem, I asked for their aid.
"Y'all could park right here", one said, "o'er by the Bank."
Then the other cop spoke, "I've a better idea... You go 'cross
that road there and park far left corner...
You be O.K...no one bother you there..."
I thanked them both kindly and stifling a yawn, took my rig
'cross the road and parked where he said.
Next morning I woke up and looked out
my window. He'd parked me in front of a little café.
How Sweet can it get?
Breakfast, sweet water and a clean bathroom...
And there's nothing beats waking up in your own bed.
Ya know? "Peculiar" was a pleasant place...
one of the nicest I've ever passed through...
I hope it's still there offering kindness to tired travelers... I do.
Pulling my Gypsy Wagon.
Bound for Mag-no-li-a, Texas...
Then I saw the sign...
It said... "Peculiar"...
Food for thought, that.
I was feeling a little odd... on the nod... clearly
needing to sleep
So I pulled off the highway
and onto the feeder...
Come up on two Cop cars parked next to a Bank...
I got out of my pick-up... went over and joined 'em
Explaining my problem, I asked for their aid.
"Y'all could park right here", one said, "o'er by the Bank."
Then the other cop spoke, "I've a better idea... You go 'cross
that road there and park far left corner...
You be O.K...no one bother you there..."
I thanked them both kindly and stifling a yawn, took my rig
'cross the road and parked where he said.
Next morning I woke up and looked out
my window. He'd parked me in front of a little café.
How Sweet can it get?
Breakfast, sweet water and a clean bathroom...
And there's nothing beats waking up in your own bed.
Ya know? "Peculiar" was a pleasant place...
one of the nicest I've ever passed through...
I hope it's still there offering kindness to tired travelers... I do.
Written by Ely
(E.A.Rothwell)
Go To Page
Tags for the Poetess
Label-love in art form
we call this poetry
Label we ourselves
as though words
must grow on trees
My labels change
With new self knowing
I harvest my own
words worth growing
So far I think myself
a painful gain
My words keep falling
With the constant rain
I once spoke of glowing
Sunrise, sunset, color rainbows
A bright and hopeful writer
that was me
My joy still peaks out into view
Yet still a sadder me for you
I wear bright war paint
That's as cheery as I seem to get
we call this poetry
Label we ourselves
as though words
must grow on trees
My labels change
With new self knowing
I harvest my own
words worth growing
So far I think myself
a painful gain
My words keep falling
With the constant rain
I once spoke of glowing
Sunrise, sunset, color rainbows
A bright and hopeful writer
that was me
My joy still peaks out into view
Yet still a sadder me for you
I wear bright war paint
That's as cheery as I seem to get
Written by EdibleWords
Go To Page
DON'T PITY ME LEARN FROM ME
As the day comes to an end and here I am wondering through the deepness of my mind as I reflect upon the many stages and moments within my life 60 years of it, for it has been truly an journey and travel and walk with each step I took it took me to an different image of myself, giving me an inside look of what my future will be cause of what it has become if I don't change for the betterment of my own life.
But not withstanding nor ever not misunderstanding the choices I've made along the crossroads of my life for by far it was never perfect as in the family life, in fact it was imperfect with so many flaws and imperfections filled with mental and physical abuse at the hands of a man not my father as my mother stood by and said and did nothing but watch her child get beat down.
But one day I told him the beatings kicks and fist marks is gonna stop so that day came when I had enough and I fought back with a knife cutting him ever place I could and can which cost me three to five, but even after all of that at times I don't even know how I made it this far within my life from running in the streets, getting that street life education chasing that paper to doing time in prison for things that I knew were wrong but yet at an early age I had to grow up before my time.
But I regret nothing of my past life for we all will have to go through somethings to get a better understanding of what real life is truly all about through your own eyes, so let me give you a deeper look into my life journey for I've been shot and I've been slab I've even been left to die in the streets because of the life I was living on the edge with my last breath, for I've been in the military in the times of war not even knowing if I will make it back home alive or come back home in a black bag with my army tags around my neck cause war is big money for the government.
For I survived an spinal infusion that left me unable to walk for three years and if that wasn't enough I had an heart attack giving me a stent implant in my RCA and to top all that off, there's an chance I have prostate cancer not that I'm looking for pity no don't get it twisted for I am just giving you an inside look at what life can and will bring your way to slow you down and living in the fast lane of life for bottom line you only got one life to truly live.
But not withstanding nor ever not misunderstanding the choices I've made along the crossroads of my life for by far it was never perfect as in the family life, in fact it was imperfect with so many flaws and imperfections filled with mental and physical abuse at the hands of a man not my father as my mother stood by and said and did nothing but watch her child get beat down.
But one day I told him the beatings kicks and fist marks is gonna stop so that day came when I had enough and I fought back with a knife cutting him ever place I could and can which cost me three to five, but even after all of that at times I don't even know how I made it this far within my life from running in the streets, getting that street life education chasing that paper to doing time in prison for things that I knew were wrong but yet at an early age I had to grow up before my time.
But I regret nothing of my past life for we all will have to go through somethings to get a better understanding of what real life is truly all about through your own eyes, so let me give you a deeper look into my life journey for I've been shot and I've been slab I've even been left to die in the streets because of the life I was living on the edge with my last breath, for I've been in the military in the times of war not even knowing if I will make it back home alive or come back home in a black bag with my army tags around my neck cause war is big money for the government.
For I survived an spinal infusion that left me unable to walk for three years and if that wasn't enough I had an heart attack giving me a stent implant in my RCA and to top all that off, there's an chance I have prostate cancer not that I'm looking for pity no don't get it twisted for I am just giving you an inside look at what life can and will bring your way to slow you down and living in the fast lane of life for bottom line you only got one life to truly live.
Written by Stoney223
(WOLF BAY33)
Go To Page
Playing God
Infecting every innocent brain, making them fall into sin
Questioning every Christian's faith, making them doubt what they believe
Larking in the deep dark shadows to instill fear
Whispering words of madness to blur what seems clear
Tempting every wicket soul, telling them what they want to hear
Offering my sweet salvation to all those in need
Promising a better tomorrow at a cost of a deal
Who's to deny me?,I dwell inside the weak
Slowly taking away your everything until you have only your soul to give
You're my tool, the world is my garden and I'm planting my seed
The first to bleed is the last to heal
The first to taste my fruit is the last to leave
This is my creed and all is at my will
Ask im willing to give
Bleed I'm more than willing to heal
All you have to do is to give your soul and I'll lock my seal
I'm the dark Messiah
And I'm playing god
Questioning every Christian's faith, making them doubt what they believe
Larking in the deep dark shadows to instill fear
Whispering words of madness to blur what seems clear
Tempting every wicket soul, telling them what they want to hear
Offering my sweet salvation to all those in need
Promising a better tomorrow at a cost of a deal
Who's to deny me?,I dwell inside the weak
Slowly taking away your everything until you have only your soul to give
You're my tool, the world is my garden and I'm planting my seed
The first to bleed is the last to heal
The first to taste my fruit is the last to leave
This is my creed and all is at my will
Ask im willing to give
Bleed I'm more than willing to heal
All you have to do is to give your soul and I'll lock my seal
I'm the dark Messiah
And I'm playing god
Written by poetOftragedy
Go To Page
Droplets
count each droplet falling
let me coat your skin
until you’re soaking
i come and go
clouds are shifting
the day is ending
a new season is calling
but delicate and pure
little crystal specks
filling every fountain
dropping heavily
overflowing
i am held by few
but seen by many
don’t close your doors
before it’s done raining
small as I seem
lightly dripping
pooling in places
that can’t be emptied
let me coat your skin
until you’re soaking
i come and go
clouds are shifting
the day is ending
a new season is calling
but delicate and pure
little crystal specks
filling every fountain
dropping heavily
overflowing
i am held by few
but seen by many
don’t close your doors
before it’s done raining
small as I seem
lightly dripping
pooling in places
that can’t be emptied
Written by Thetravelingfairy
Go To Page
Broken
She delights in the most improbable.
like breaking her crayons 🖍 to hear the pop.
a testament to the strength she’s developed in 967 days
But when she’s done
So are they
She wants no part of the tattered ones
Dutiful father.
I pick them up
Not able to teach her
just yet
that the tattered ones
paint the best stories.
Their armor easily
And willing shed to provide brilliant texture and contrast
I’ll try to teach her to love
the broken ones
Even as they grow smaller and smaller
Speckled with hubris and laughter
Tears
Love
And the hope
Of yesterday’s
yellow sunshine
And rain
Green grass.
birds shaped like m’s
And clouds made the same way.
crooked windows
And tilted doors
I’ll tell her
Listen to their stories precious one
so that you may know yours.
Written by LobodeSanPedro
Go To Page
Roadside At The Dustbowl
We took shelter by the roadside
opening the flaps just long enough
to catch a little color from the distant sunset
then the sand started to roll in.
We weren't worried so much about abrasion as we were about
breathing.
I still felt its grit upon my skin...
I put on a mask to hide my lips from this,
in hopes that a smile could still be visible.
She told me there was no point in making supper,
there wasn't any way for creature comforts.
We had come to a desolate area, where wolves fed on anything that moved; howling at the distance and truly...
it was excruciating.
Earlier I was trying to pack everything we had in the trunk of the car.
She scolded me and told me, most of it was useless.
"Why do you think we need this old lamp?"
She was right, I was just sentimental about it and many other useless things, that I kept trying to sneak in the boot.
I can remember the day we picked that out; I remember how that road felt under my feet as we walked to that little store.
It was solid footing, She had her arm around me and I had walked in with her lipstick still stained to my neck.
She picked it out of course and I agreed, it was lovely; I liked how the pearlescent base captured every reflection.
How the eyes were instantly glued to the designs in the shade; these somehow matched our stairs back home.
To Her it was just simply trash now, something old and used, ready to be discarded.
I nodded, I guess she was right...to me things that I deem special never cease being so.
I accumulate these things and She calls me a "junk man" for it.
She undeniably kept Us light for travel, ready to run whenever possible.
I knew the reasonings, I understood its importance; yet I will never not, feel the pain of letting go of something we shared.
Moments of happiness and laughter are snapshots and post-signs to life shared.
I am forever wanting the new, no matter how simple.
Even here within this tent, this moment will forever burn to my memory.
The detail of its fabric, the sound of its zipper; Her shadow laying quietly in the corner.
I kiss Her goodnight and tell Her "I love You" while She snores.
She wakes just enough to mumble "Gnight."
So I fix my mask back on, wander outside yet again.
Trying my best to see in the darkness, through the cloud and haze;
I knew there were lights on further up the road, you just couldn't see them from this distance.
I held faith we were on the right road, that we would find what we had wished for.
It never matters which point we are at, to my old soggy self.
All I care about is the journey and seeing Her smile in my direction; I follow Hers...to me that's my only compass.
opening the flaps just long enough
to catch a little color from the distant sunset
then the sand started to roll in.
We weren't worried so much about abrasion as we were about
breathing.
I still felt its grit upon my skin...
I put on a mask to hide my lips from this,
in hopes that a smile could still be visible.
She told me there was no point in making supper,
there wasn't any way for creature comforts.
We had come to a desolate area, where wolves fed on anything that moved; howling at the distance and truly...
it was excruciating.
Earlier I was trying to pack everything we had in the trunk of the car.
She scolded me and told me, most of it was useless.
"Why do you think we need this old lamp?"
She was right, I was just sentimental about it and many other useless things, that I kept trying to sneak in the boot.
I can remember the day we picked that out; I remember how that road felt under my feet as we walked to that little store.
It was solid footing, She had her arm around me and I had walked in with her lipstick still stained to my neck.
She picked it out of course and I agreed, it was lovely; I liked how the pearlescent base captured every reflection.
How the eyes were instantly glued to the designs in the shade; these somehow matched our stairs back home.
To Her it was just simply trash now, something old and used, ready to be discarded.
I nodded, I guess she was right...to me things that I deem special never cease being so.
I accumulate these things and She calls me a "junk man" for it.
She undeniably kept Us light for travel, ready to run whenever possible.
I knew the reasonings, I understood its importance; yet I will never not, feel the pain of letting go of something we shared.
Moments of happiness and laughter are snapshots and post-signs to life shared.
I am forever wanting the new, no matter how simple.
Even here within this tent, this moment will forever burn to my memory.
The detail of its fabric, the sound of its zipper; Her shadow laying quietly in the corner.
I kiss Her goodnight and tell Her "I love You" while She snores.
She wakes just enough to mumble "Gnight."
So I fix my mask back on, wander outside yet again.
Trying my best to see in the darkness, through the cloud and haze;
I knew there were lights on further up the road, you just couldn't see them from this distance.
I held faith we were on the right road, that we would find what we had wished for.
It never matters which point we are at, to my old soggy self.
All I care about is the journey and seeing Her smile in my direction; I follow Hers...to me that's my only compass.
Written by souladareatease
Go To Page
Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/364980-i-am-not-poetry/
I Am Not Poetry
There was a time
when everything
was immaculate
when these words
would arrive written
in a perfect bow
pen poised over paper
candle light and
a desk lamp
to frame a crime
of perfection
and thinking back
it never made me happy
to trap myself and daily
in the torment of vanity
to see those words laid out
obsessing over shape,
their meaning splayed—
Venn diagrams in my mind.
I’ve come to realise
I never wanted
the perfect poem;
I wanted to live out
my poetry
because a poem is not
the engraved marble
of a cenotaph,
but words I once wrote
in my own blood
on a bus ticket
it is the sleepless daze
that holds my pen to ransom
pondering an urgent call
beneath morning ugliness
hair wild as I sing
against my slate grey tiles
as steaming songs enter
a frost-bitten world
I don’t want to layer
my pages with preposition,
but to speak a truth I can feel
bursting beneath my skin
because I don’t want to be
poetry—
I am free verse
to be anything else
is wasting your time.
I Am Not Poetry
There was a time
when everything
was immaculate
when these words
would arrive written
in a perfect bow
pen poised over paper
candle light and
a desk lamp
to frame a crime
of perfection
and thinking back
it never made me happy
to trap myself and daily
in the torment of vanity
to see those words laid out
obsessing over shape,
their meaning splayed—
Venn diagrams in my mind.
I’ve come to realise
I never wanted
the perfect poem;
I wanted to live out
my poetry
because a poem is not
the engraved marble
of a cenotaph,
but words I once wrote
in my own blood
on a bus ticket
it is the sleepless daze
that holds my pen to ransom
pondering an urgent call
beneath morning ugliness
hair wild as I sing
against my slate grey tiles
as steaming songs enter
a frost-bitten world
I don’t want to layer
my pages with preposition,
but to speak a truth I can feel
bursting beneath my skin
because I don’t want to be
poetry—
I am free verse
to be anything else
is wasting your time.
Thick skin
I lost every key,
even the ones I threaded
on boot laces round my neck,
I hid them at the backs of drawers,
blue-tacked under table tops
but you still took them.
I mind myself in unlocked rooms,
respectful of what I was,
sipping at the waterhole,
holding host with all that sat,
drinks would go flat and I would burn
plastic in the ash trays
of furtive conversation.
Your words now fall ferrous,
on childlike courage,
iron fillings that move on your magnet
hidden by the true possessor.
All I have left is a matching pole,
ready to repel.
I hear you at the door,
your entrance snaps my mood
takes the blossom too soon,
damages nerves and I'm impugned
once more.
You take away and I subtract
then watch ten years before I act,
deep inside your cold rebuff.
This armchair armadillo,
has had enough.
even the ones I threaded
on boot laces round my neck,
I hid them at the backs of drawers,
blue-tacked under table tops
but you still took them.
I mind myself in unlocked rooms,
respectful of what I was,
sipping at the waterhole,
holding host with all that sat,
drinks would go flat and I would burn
plastic in the ash trays
of furtive conversation.
Your words now fall ferrous,
on childlike courage,
iron fillings that move on your magnet
hidden by the true possessor.
All I have left is a matching pole,
ready to repel.
I hear you at the door,
your entrance snaps my mood
takes the blossom too soon,
damages nerves and I'm impugned
once more.
You take away and I subtract
then watch ten years before I act,
deep inside your cold rebuff.
This armchair armadillo,
has had enough.
Written by Razzerleaf
Go To Page
Only a Dream......
It's like I'm awake in a parallel world of existence only to be dreaming still sleeping walking into this nightmare I called home. My mind is trapped in a deep sleep only to be controlled by my spirit within that is telling me to wake up!! wake up kea!!
Wake up to this world you hope to become something more wake up to this world you exist in now ...
Only a dream ...
-Nikea Coleman
Wake up to this world you hope to become something more wake up to this world you exist in now ...
Only a dream ...
-Nikea Coleman
Written by Xostrawberry
Go To Page
Related submission no longer exists.
