deepundergroundpoetry.com
Remember How She Said That We Would Meet Again Some Sunny Day
Hallucinated dreams.
Set in reality.
Vibranced named in pink.
Conjuring many things.
Most of which i think.
Are my eyes stuck on my brain,
Or my brain stuck to my eyes?
Poetically surprised.
Left as if traumatized.
The children digging through the rubble.
No adults in sight.
Naive with strong instict.
The child does not recognize.
He laughs and screams and fires blank expressions.
Shine on pretty diamond.
They believe their brothers gone to heaven,
Holding in his own intestine.
And we shall not skip over mother.
Finding another to equate that love.
But then it smothers, not enough.
--
So we hold ourselves on trial.
Self determined own exile.
Only child,
Many brothers.
And these drugs are like lovers.
The needle's clean, no need for rubbers.
Fucked in the head with all our troubles.
Fetile position, trying to uncover.
Any thought the cave could plunder.
"And what has become of you?
Does anybody else out there, feel the way i do?"*
Set in reality.
Vibranced named in pink.
Conjuring many things.
Most of which i think.
Are my eyes stuck on my brain,
Or my brain stuck to my eyes?
Poetically surprised.
Left as if traumatized.
The children digging through the rubble.
No adults in sight.
Naive with strong instict.
The child does not recognize.
He laughs and screams and fires blank expressions.
Shine on pretty diamond.
They believe their brothers gone to heaven,
Holding in his own intestine.
And we shall not skip over mother.
Finding another to equate that love.
But then it smothers, not enough.
--
So we hold ourselves on trial.
Self determined own exile.
Only child,
Many brothers.
And these drugs are like lovers.
The needle's clean, no need for rubbers.
Fucked in the head with all our troubles.
Fetile position, trying to uncover.
Any thought the cave could plunder.
"And what has become of you?
Does anybody else out there, feel the way i do?"*
Published 13th Dec 2019
Author's Note
*Pink Floyd - The Wall - Vera
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
13th Dec 2019 7:12am
This is fucking brilliant. There’s a wider message here, but this stands out to me as the personal one, the driving emotion of the entire piece:
So we hold ourselves on trial.
Self determined own exile.
Only child,
Many brothers.
Haunting in its global and in its personal imagery, clever in its flow, closing with this powerhouse of a stanza:
And these drugs are like lovers.
The needle's clean, no need for rubbers.
Fucked in the head with all our troubles.
Fetile position, trying to uncover.
Any thought the cave could plunder.
This spill is brick solid, this is poetry ♥️
So we hold ourselves on trial.
Self determined own exile.
Only child,
Many brothers.
Haunting in its global and in its personal imagery, clever in its flow, closing with this powerhouse of a stanza:
And these drugs are like lovers.
The needle's clean, no need for rubbers.
Fucked in the head with all our troubles.
Fetile position, trying to uncover.
Any thought the cave could plunder.
This spill is brick solid, this is poetry ♥️
13th Dec 2019 7:16am
