deepundergroundpoetry.com
Stabbed
Holding the pen in a clenched hand I'm stabbing
All my dreams and Inbetweens
Putting the ink in each dragging
Through my filter to my speech
The sand of words an evil beach
That I have breached
With a shovel in my hand to
Cover each to deathly deep
Pray to keep
"I can't stand you"
I eat them as a token
Dried corpses draped
In drying roses
Dried up time
Dried up wine
Dried ideas of mine unspoken
All my dreams and Inbetweens
Putting the ink in each dragging
Through my filter to my speech
The sand of words an evil beach
That I have breached
With a shovel in my hand to
Cover each to deathly deep
Pray to keep
"I can't stand you"
I eat them as a token
Dried corpses draped
In drying roses
Dried up time
Dried up wine
Dried ideas of mine unspoken
Published 13th Jun 2019
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The author encourages honest critique.
I dunno if it's your intent or just where I am at the moment, but this mirrors my own frustration of too many poetry ideas and too little time to make them come to life. Feels like I can't write anything decent these days.
This one has power.... that stabbing pen and dried up ideas.... well done.
This one has power.... that stabbing pen and dried up ideas.... well done.
14th Jun 2019 11:39pm
Thank you, this is really how I've been feeling lately. I dunno if I just need to catch up to myself, or slow down the focus, either way I end up with a lot of ideas just scattered in notebooks, saved for "later"
