PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[U]Persona[/U]

With every hour

A creep crawls

Crepe paper draped

From inner walls

Of white, endures

A paisley face

Contains the pressure

Of saving grace

And saving my

Indentured falsehoods



Mask to mask

The fluid change

A casket for

A stranger's skin

Shelve it without

A second thought again

A likeness

Constructed to protect

An ego wrought

With dissension





[U]Ego[/U]

As hours turn

To minutes, days

Sepia-toned forays

Moving to brisk decay

Searching through

The mind to find

The conscious self

Working below the vanity

And digging in

I know what I am

Or I think I do

Moving deeper

Into my ego

And through it

To the subconscious

To the shadow





[U]Shadow[/U]

Murder?

Never!

Debauchery?

A sin!

Life's been taken

And virgin beauty?

I'm appalled

As I should be!

But I want this?

Revulsed by my impulses

I'm not capable of killing

Let alone, to be willing

To wish death upon others

This is not denial

I believe I know myself



Looking on from the outside

One could be deceived

By the false serenity

Tiny imperfections on the surface

Reveal mile-wide cracks on the inside

And these cracks can cause such chaos

As to roll a can of marbles

Confusion and collision

Hysteria inside the can

Leads to dysfunction and distress

All across the exterior

As it tries to hold together

The pressure is evident

The sheath is expanding



explosion.



And I could kill

And I COULD kill

And I COULD kill

But I won't

Because I don't need to

And I move deeper

Off to find another side

To discover an image

Of me otherwise





[U]Anima[/U]

A man in charge

Of his destiny

Surely I know

What lies ahead of me

But beneath

This masculinity

A weaker streak

Of femininity leaks

Drawing out this woman

A woman inside of a man

Supporting each persona

Explicit acknowledgement

And I plunge still deeper

Thirsting for understanding





[U]Self[/U]

Drawing growth

And growing stable

All from this sense

Of human wholeness

Wholeness is the Self

Humans in pristine form

Reaching equates perfection

Free of egotistic harm

Free of personal protection

Free of shadowistic overbearings

Free of animal denial

And free of need for these

Which is inherent in man

Laid bare to facilitate

My all encompassing

Sense of existence

I have arrived

I can think and not know.

And I'm right.

And all is right.