PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This is day one. This is day one.
This is the first time I've looked at me.
Torn me apart and peeked inside.

Inside the shell cannot be viewed.
Out of service, or unemployed?
Seemingly too cavernous to fill.

Fill my drinking with exasperation.
Mould it centre, mould it off-course.
This is day one. This is day one.

One more piece of paper filled
with the petty regrets of yester-world.
And so the volume turns oppressive.

Oppressive licking that does not heal.
Obstructive shallow that does not shine.
Jumping at living in techno suburban .

Suburban simple and without cost.
Just mouthing the platitudes of the
regressive sunglasses over the eyes.

Eyes that can see, eyes are shut.
Faces and voices that do not match
the pause button on the remote control.

Control the pathos and create a look.
This I will be. This I will be, until the
pages turn into heart-breaking noise.

Noise that is so soft it is unheard.
That must be what I am. What I am
is a man sitting at a keyboard typing:

This is day one. This is day one.