Poetry competition CLOSED 17th June 2017 3:12am
WINNER
wallyroo92
wallyroo92
Insomnia! Or what I call, “The curse of a thousand poets.”
Anonymous
-Zzzzzzzzzz's Not-
What the fuck is sleep anyways?
A time to dream.
A time to regroup.
A time to forget about your troubles.
Seriously, why label yourselves?
Either you get some or you don't!
Sleep that is.
As for me, I'm not placing any value on the lack thereof.
I'm grateful for anything I can get....
What the fuck is sleep anyways?
A time to dream.
A time to regroup.
A time to forget about your troubles.
Seriously, why label yourselves?
Either you get some or you don't!
Sleep that is.
As for me, I'm not placing any value on the lack thereof.
I'm grateful for anything I can get....
Dreamons
The Demons I dream of
are far, far worse
Than those you might face
once you ride a hearse;
Even more ghastly,
more ghoulish, and foul,
Than any endeveavored
out of someone's mouth.
The Demons I dream of
are deranged and desperate,
They gleam of the strangest
desires that I've met.
The demons I dream of
are obscure infections,
What scares me most is
they bear my reflection.
The demons I dream of
are merciless hosts,
The worst of their kind,
I don't mean to boast;
But they tantalize,
tamper, and tittilate,
Turbulently, enough
that no man could take,
And now I fear sleep,
for reasons disclosed;
These demons I dream of
are darker than most.
are far, far worse
Than those you might face
once you ride a hearse;
Even more ghastly,
more ghoulish, and foul,
Than any endeveavored
out of someone's mouth.
The Demons I dream of
are deranged and desperate,
They gleam of the strangest
desires that I've met.
The demons I dream of
are obscure infections,
What scares me most is
they bear my reflection.
The demons I dream of
are merciless hosts,
The worst of their kind,
I don't mean to boast;
But they tantalize,
tamper, and tittilate,
Turbulently, enough
that no man could take,
And now I fear sleep,
for reasons disclosed;
These demons I dream of
are darker than most.
Written by MrBuchanan
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Eyes rage violent jag
Scream sockets......!!
Not yet surrendered to this itch
Miscreant razors my corners
Like crow has landed with scorn
Digging talons in preflight
I pull and tug to regain clear sight
(though his screech is heard loudly)
And all too clear
No sleep is here!!!
He takes away
Black feathers veiling me in shroud of night
My purgatory of loud calling silence
Words fly like crow
As hungrier my hoods grow
For a morsel of hearty shut
They droop
Like a haggard old witch
Her wretched cackle echoes
As she edges arround my sanity
Taunting with red apple
So sleeeeepy ....very very sleeerpy
And as my eyes give in....
So do my thoughts to synapse
Minute electric jolt flutters lash
I yearn for opiate den stance
And soft circles left by hash
My slouch draping red fabrique chase in nod
My morphine haze allowed
Getting the best of me
So
I write
Half d?e€lirium soaked thought
Left to surprise me some fiftth morning
When my minds door finally slams shut!!
Scream sockets......!!
Not yet surrendered to this itch
Miscreant razors my corners
Like crow has landed with scorn
Digging talons in preflight
I pull and tug to regain clear sight
(though his screech is heard loudly)
And all too clear
No sleep is here!!!
He takes away
Black feathers veiling me in shroud of night
My purgatory of loud calling silence
Words fly like crow
As hungrier my hoods grow
For a morsel of hearty shut
They droop
Like a haggard old witch
Her wretched cackle echoes
As she edges arround my sanity
Taunting with red apple
So sleeeeepy ....very very sleeerpy
And as my eyes give in....
So do my thoughts to synapse
Minute electric jolt flutters lash
I yearn for opiate den stance
And soft circles left by hash
My slouch draping red fabrique chase in nod
My morphine haze allowed
Getting the best of me
So
I write
Half d?e€lirium soaked thought
Left to surprise me some fiftth morning
When my minds door finally slams shut!!
Sorry, late entry - I've been away.
The Land of Sleep
The Land of Sleep is hard to reach
When you set out from Not Tired Beach.
Ahead stretch miles and miles of night,
But Slumber Point is not in sight.
Deep in the woods of Wide Awake,
You thresh around. Which path to take?
You try the route of Tranquil Thought,
But all your efforts come to nought.
Perhaps a book? The clock tolls one,
Too tired to read, you soldier on.
For hours, your thoughts and sleep contend;
God, will this journey never end?
As first light dawns, you sense a calm,
A peaceful, drowsy, healing balm.
Dozing, you drift through misty vales,
Stark wakefulness no more prevails,
Soft breezes blow, cool willows weep,
But just before the Gulf of Sleep,
One more shape looms, to your dismay:
Alas, it's Time To Get Up Bay.
The Land of Sleep
The Land of Sleep is hard to reach
When you set out from Not Tired Beach.
Ahead stretch miles and miles of night,
But Slumber Point is not in sight.
Deep in the woods of Wide Awake,
You thresh around. Which path to take?
You try the route of Tranquil Thought,
But all your efforts come to nought.
Perhaps a book? The clock tolls one,
Too tired to read, you soldier on.
For hours, your thoughts and sleep contend;
God, will this journey never end?
As first light dawns, you sense a calm,
A peaceful, drowsy, healing balm.
Dozing, you drift through misty vales,
Stark wakefulness no more prevails,
Soft breezes blow, cool willows weep,
But just before the Gulf of Sleep,
One more shape looms, to your dismay:
Alas, it's Time To Get Up Bay.
