PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Scrolling down endless pages
of pretty words and turned phrases
plucking our collective heartstrings
plumb the depths of our psychic mazes
a treasure trove, a lyric cove
of musings, metaphor, anecdotes
taking the time to read between the lines
sew a patch into the coat
that shields me from the storms of life
in my tiny, slimy, paper mache boat
I wont float for long, above the droning throng
with heads bent down so tired and droll
I want to join the game, give back the song
that livened up this dreary soul
put pen to paper, but damn, I've got nothin
but magic metaphors, fuckin big bloody muffins
journeys and sparkles and shadows; hot air
got the the pipe in my mouth but I'm not really puffin
dont try to be deep or take the "pity me' road
just connect with someone the only way I know
guess I was dealt a bad hand, cuz I'm failing a that
flat on my back, lacking tact, clouded with cataracts
what do I need? why do I bleed when ignored
calling for approval like its a goddamn Megazord
a horselord thats steedless, a soldier who's heedless,
forgot my body armor but I'm storming the beaches
I'm speechless, when trying to describe what you mean to me
comrades in word, bar I must reach, divine enemy
I dont know you, but bestow infallible quality
you're gods(esses) among (wo)men, I am but a pleb
exiled to the deserts of an outcasts' life
even among dune-dwellers I finger my knife
red eyed reflection shrouded by heavy hood
Is it trite? childish? Simply misunderstood?
Or maybe, just maybe, there's naught being said
blatherings of a nobody stuck in his head
an outcome expected, but with utmost dread.
So I scroll down some more, glean even more wisdom
of pieces oft loved, some lonely, as rule of thumb;
I'll be famous one day, indeed you'll all see
whether my children are loved or shoot up the gallery.