PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Remove the mighty king;
kill god to claim his crown:
so rare is such a thing,
a feeling only I expound.

Clinically insane, they claim;
so very strange to most,
but I care not what's in a name,
so on I remain.

The mindset I've achieved
bestows such prevalent gifts
no religion has made my world
much more navigable and mirthful.

I feel the world shift.

The things I can do;
the places I can go;
the possibilities are infinite.
Bountiful are the options with your imagination

The mind is such a beautiful thing.

It is so complex, yet falling behind the nose;
its commonplace colors irony
and remains root to my addiction:

Fantasy.

Reality, fantasy, and dreams I confuse
Which one is real?
Which one to choose?

Sporadic are my words
but within, meaning heavy is held:
who can I reach with these?

This feeling must be felt.

I hope for a connection;
I hope to reel a friend
to share this dream with me.
Someone to call home
and enjoy my insanity.

Yet if I remain uncherished
desolate I will shuffle through this life;
I will continue to write
these twisted words:
worlds spilled unto paper.

I'll send it out to be judged
(no matter the critique!);
I'm breathing life into my world
and that makes me happy;
it is all I need.

I have been to the bottom of bottomless pit,
and, through anguish, I have trudged,
but never I submit;
but never I submit.

All I have seen has altered my mind,
leaving me crazy, a little bit.

At the end of both spectrums,
I draw two perceptions;
deep in my mind I carry Cummings words:

Here is the root of the root
and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky
of the tree called life.

And that makes me rational,
consoles the insane;
I'm here present in the world,
also present in my kingdom

I'm attached at both ends.