PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Why is it so hot today?

My sweat comes out in fountains.

My nerves feel numb,

Shot today...



I don't belong to anyone I guess.

But I never much liked being a quaint possession.

So I'll bleed these tears in excess

Unto canvases that only I have access to

And watch the red in my eyes

Turn into crimson cries

And splash into art

At my feet...



But I can't handle this

All by myself.

So once again I try relying on

That Divison-of-Labor System

I've applied.

The waterworks

Convert the sorrow energy

To light

That floods my mind.

Electricity that pumps the turning cranks

Inside my arm

And forces me to write.

Energy on paper

Through a systematic circle fight.



And some won't let me even have my poems...

Just because they offered the inspiration behind it

They think I owe em?

Invading my lines

As if to strip the final legacy

I wish to leave behind?

This is my goddamn creation

Filtered through some weakened memory

Of you, of them, of us...



But don't you speculate for a moment

You belong on this ride.

Though the frame was made from all your metal love

And tires crafted from your rubber glove touch.

This is still my fucking bus

And I will drive it through the city lights as such.

Drunk and running intersections

Where our streets once made connections

Through a freeway.

But come to think of it

In which ways were you free?

I must've thrown a million speed bumps

At your feet.



And like those blimp balloons

We soar with heads high

Until we find

We're only breathing

Hot air.

Crying to the clouds

But nothing's really there.



So is this what I have?

Some vehicle metaphor

And cheap object comparison?

Oh god, my writing dwindles

When I try to share a sun

And reach for fingers

Dressed with emotion thimbles.

I'm sick of being let down

'Cause when I get down

I can't even pen straight.

Where'd the pretty pictures go?



Or maybe I can seek solace that

Beauty is in the eye

Of the.. beholder..

But what do you behold?

Besides some hell-bent stanza soldier

Clean intent on flipping his own world right over

If it can inspire a line...



So maybe you're right

In finding something in me ugly.

You know, one time... I saw this guy in pain

But just that day,

Nothing was above me.

So I walked right by

Not caring if he loved me.

Yeah... maybe that's disgusting

And how the memory burns hard when it does touch me.

Admittedly, I've painted shady black many a time across the blue

And how it makes me feel more human than you.



And so I want to show this this world

The Love that medicated me

To drowsy eyes.

But more than anything

It's hard to stay dedicated

Through these culminating cries.

So please don't ask me why my precious sighs do last me,

Where they come from.

Because like my coffee

I get my sadness on the outside

And pour the liquid in

To stay awake against my better wishes

To just sleep away what could have been...





Random stanzas that I'll be the Tony Danza to:

Boss of nothing deep -

Just pity rants so blue

So when I glance at you

It's reflex to just turn away...

"I'm walking Sin..."

"I'm walking Sin..."

I heard them say...