deepundergroundpoetry.com
Mad Ramblings... of the one left behind...
Dark, foul and desolate,
the mood festering deep in me
it slithers and seethes writhing,
I have nowhere to flee,
like something alive and wicked, it breathes,
evil, all seeing and all knowing;
never feeble always growing.
One can only say what one sees
and let the protagonists do what they please
but when they look back, the fact is, they inevitably say:
why did I not listen to what you said that day?
Ohhh… such stupidities one endeavors to create,
always making demands and defiantly not listening
to the wisdom that is given out love and concern,
no, why would you do that,
you must always have the last word;
problem is my dear, that the dead
do not have much to say…
Once you cross that last frontier
there is no coming back here,
to avoid such mistakes is the only way
but you in all your selfjustifying wisdom,
will not listen because you
feel your being dictated to.
A smart man knows when
it is the prudent thing to do,
a stupid, immature man,
although he knows the reason is sound,
will not listen because pride has it’s demands.
He will not be dictated to, no, he is a grown man!
Pride has always been the downfall
of good men, great or strong, one and all.
When we let vanities get the better of us,
trying to prove you have the upper hand,
it becomes the bullet that ends
any opportunity you could have had.
It was never, ever a war of wills,
I did not, not, not want to be right!!!
I was trying to protect your ungrateful life,
but of course this you could not see,
I was nagging you
because there nothing better for me,
to your mind: what did I know?
You had it all under control!
Yet now in this desolate place,
the garden of the dead,
I bring you this white rose to place,
on the stone at your graves’ head.
Gypsy red
March 2012
the mood festering deep in me
it slithers and seethes writhing,
I have nowhere to flee,
like something alive and wicked, it breathes,
evil, all seeing and all knowing;
never feeble always growing.
One can only say what one sees
and let the protagonists do what they please
but when they look back, the fact is, they inevitably say:
why did I not listen to what you said that day?
Ohhh… such stupidities one endeavors to create,
always making demands and defiantly not listening
to the wisdom that is given out love and concern,
no, why would you do that,
you must always have the last word;
problem is my dear, that the dead
do not have much to say…
Once you cross that last frontier
there is no coming back here,
to avoid such mistakes is the only way
but you in all your selfjustifying wisdom,
will not listen because you
feel your being dictated to.
A smart man knows when
it is the prudent thing to do,
a stupid, immature man,
although he knows the reason is sound,
will not listen because pride has it’s demands.
He will not be dictated to, no, he is a grown man!
Pride has always been the downfall
of good men, great or strong, one and all.
When we let vanities get the better of us,
trying to prove you have the upper hand,
it becomes the bullet that ends
any opportunity you could have had.
It was never, ever a war of wills,
I did not, not, not want to be right!!!
I was trying to protect your ungrateful life,
but of course this you could not see,
I was nagging you
because there nothing better for me,
to your mind: what did I know?
You had it all under control!
Yet now in this desolate place,
the garden of the dead,
I bring you this white rose to place,
on the stone at your graves’ head.
Gypsy red
March 2012
Published 5th Mar 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 6
reading list entries 0
comments 13
reads 898
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
5th Mar 2012 10:31pm
A man does not die of love or his liver or even of old age; he dies of being a man. The message is so much greater then that I could ever imply. For you simplicity is a word that is not, nor have a diffention or meaning. Such a beautiful woman as yourself with such obscurity of the past. Great write as always. Even if you may walk on the head and hands of the one who lies beneath you.
5th Mar 2012 10:42pm
No offense hon, but sometimes I really hate men, but thanks for coming to read my piece and for the nice comment.It's an all around bad day.
gypsy red
gypsy red
6th Mar 2012 00:52am
wow Gypsy so much emotion conveyed in this poem..with a punch at the end..excellent poem..peace Crim
6th Mar 2012 1:11pm
Thank you so much my dearest Crim, I've missed your comments glad you stopped by.
Gypsy red
Gypsy red
6th Mar 2012 5:55pm
We are born to die, they say. And I wonder why.
I will just comment on what concerns the passing away. Why I don't know who you are referring.
I find this part very interesting:
...you must always have the last word;
problem is my dear, that the dead
do not have much to say…
Once you cross that last frontier
there is no coming back here...
Suggestive writing. Nice pic.
I will just comment on what concerns the passing away. Why I don't know who you are referring.
I find this part very interesting:
...you must always have the last word;
problem is my dear, that the dead
do not have much to say…
Once you cross that last frontier
there is no coming back here...
Suggestive writing. Nice pic.
6th Mar 2012 7:02pm
It is about an old lover querido Luca, but somethings have a way of repeating themselves even in other people and then that begs the question: Is it me or them that has the problem? Thanks for stopping by to read my piece.
Ciao querido
te extraño,
la gitana traviesa
Ciao querido
te extraño,
la gitana traviesa
Lo que pas es que tu debes de ser una mujer inteligente, libre y fuerte de caracter. La mayorías de los hombres esto no lo soportan. Tienes que buscar alguien que te sea devoto, ya te lo he dicho.
Anda, cumple uno de tu viaje nocturnos, yo te espero en el mundo de nuestros sueños, para levantarte la moral. ;)
Yo también te extraño cariño. Ya sabes que tengo una morbosa predilecciòn por ti.
Anda, cumple uno de tu viaje nocturnos, yo te espero en el mundo de nuestros sueños, para levantarte la moral. ;)
Yo también te extraño cariño. Ya sabes que tengo una morbosa predilecciòn por ti.
7th Mar 2012 12:53pm
lo soy y tienes razón la mayoría de los hombre que han cruzado mi vida tanto profesional como personal llegan en algún momento a sentir resentimiento de mi.
La situación empeora cuando ellos me han desafiado y el resultado es como se lo había predicho.
" no hay peor ciego que aquel que no quiere ver"
"En uno de mis viajes nocturnos"... Te veré ahí para hacerte las maldades y travesuras que te gustan a ti.jajajajaj
La situación empeora cuando ellos me han desafiado y el resultado es como se lo había predicho.
" no hay peor ciego que aquel que no quiere ver"
"En uno de mis viajes nocturnos"... Te veré ahí para hacerte las maldades y travesuras que te gustan a ti.jajajajaj
7th Mar 2012 1:07pm
Bueno, lo más importante es que gusten a ti, puesto que yo seria feliz complaciendote.
Seguro que yo no tendría resientimento alguno y tu ninguna razòn para lamentar mi devocción. :)
Seguro que yo no tendría resientimento alguno y tu ninguna razòn para lamentar mi devocción. :)
this poem is dark and beautifully poignant..with a powerful message..bravo!!! peace Crim :)
23rd Mar 2012 6:56pm
5th Sep 2012 2:24pm
5th Sep 2012 2:29pm
