PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Ha... Buzzing 'round tonight for fighting whims.

Black and yellow plastic rebel

Breaking at a spastic wind

Becoming clustered and disheveled.

Falling through and reaching lower levels

Where I do reside.



You see... my pride has all but died

And all the flies that once encircled every dirty lie I cried

Now soar above me.

And I don't much mind to look on up

And see the ways they'll never love me.

Kind of gives me life and pressures:

Burdens on myself that I may humbly carry to my wooden shelf

And place right next to all the shit that does become me.



Later look on up

And find that somewhere 'tween the flies there lies a dumb bee

Trying desperately to numb me with vain stings

And little cutest wings

That help it fly above the rest

So superficially,

While it makes friends

With the ambitious trees

That stand around and speak in tongues of green.



Oh, somber bee... How you could learn a thing or three

From their humility

When in their stance.

Tall but never devastatingly proud.

And willing to shroud

A leaf or fifty

If it means that, simply, they give life to all the things below their own sky crowns.



Little bee...

Oh how you mean so much to me.

And for this reason I would take your tiny wings of flight and sound

And throw you clean into that lake where you have never been

To see the ways you drown...