PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

like puddles left to puddle
in a discarded child's play pail
I get nowhere fast while running in circles
chasing my unattainable tail
but the sharper my senses, the quicker I become
some love many and masses but I only love some
I play my hunches close to the ground
I can hear with my sight and see by sound
every last vestige of wondrous hope
my savaged senses inside me pound
solely to myself I am honor bound
I emotionally dismember myself
as logic takes from me the face of what's false
the scars aren't as deep as my initial abject loss
I am guilty in aiding the mutation of my once
sweet spirit
there is so much to confess to but no one left
to hear it
my life could be described as a footnote to a
footnote
but to get farther from my too serious side
I feel I must rock the already leaking boat
I give you my many sincerest thanks
for letting me put my needs that need to be felt
to a bitter sweet point
upon my own sickened soul
a potion of temporary inner peace
I almost religiously anoint
now that I've allowed myself a little space
to bench my intent
for this moment I'll put the sign out "door closed"
over my mind, for I am truly spent...........
(written June 12,1991 in the afternoon)