PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

green monkey,

a soft rescue,

my torn skull,

scripted with the bold words,

that grandma used to use,

angels wings,

so full of holes,

blown through,

a lot like the dreams, we used to hold,

gray awkward,

a shallow soul,

a peek in,

to these blue unknowns,

where the sunlight fades,

and darkness awaits,

to spring her romantic trap,

onto the innocent,

enraptured moments,

red like my blood,

the selling of souls,

in a black market flood,

the decreasing of values,

the torture of seeing,

the glory of the sun, setting,

her pink, and purple,

orange-like fire to bed,

the rapid flowing colors of my mother,

never being there,

filling me with displeasure,

roaming rampant in my head,

born with stripes,

the shades of hurt, and anger,

peaceful pictures,

of idealistic wonder,

dreamed too clever,

these painted decisions,

dead in realism,

dead in never,

the crushed blossom of this rose,

trampled under the feet of those,

that never knew,.........is still,

beautiful.