PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There’s chow littered on the staircase floor.

I scramble to clean up the spill before it’s all consumed

By the cat that brought the family bad luck since the late spring.

Here I go, like I always do,

Holding my tongue on the job

While I hear you shout

While I hear you try to crush me

While I hear you goad me to scream.

It confuses me why an act of kindness and good intentions

Can wrought so much volatile sentiments.

I’ve been hesitant to feed the little one because I don’t know his tastes.

Never did I anticipate that her gluttonous habits are what triggers you.

Or is it he? Wow. Just wow.

Anger does wonders to the hippocampus.

My curiosity about how long you’ll live after that squabble fascinates me

But it concerns me at the same time.

Mad people live shorter lives than those that can stay calm when there’s an inconvenience.

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison.

Just today, while hitting the road, I thought we’d find common ground.

Keeping our cools while the mama cat is away

And a kitten comes out to play

Before it helps us seek four crystals in need of recovering.

When all that is done, I thought we’d go out for

Bagels and quiche for old time’s sake.

I enjoy the little interactions and activities when your temper is below zero.

Sadly, tonight once again broke the streak

That counted consecutive days we got along.

This always happens growing up, yet I never see it coming.

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison.

If you think the black cat is getting pudgy,

Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?

You’ve put on more pounds than she did.

Or he did? How did you get the genders mixed up in the heat?

I guess anger does wonders to the hippocampus.

You’re the reason why I have to keep my temper in check.

And why I prefer tears over beers.

All for the sake of my own well-being so I don’t turn out exactly like you.

Your temper is my poison and I won’t let it fester.

The only antidote to my ailment is knowing that I’ll be out of this roof

Happier than I was living under it just like I was for the past two years.

I know that as a guppy, Mother said to be considerate of you and

I was told that deep inside, you do care.

Sadly, it’s excruciatingly difficult for me not to judge this book by its cover.

I just can’t pry it open to see the pages no matter how hard I try to interpret your rage.

But if this little message hurts your feelings,

It’s a dish served hotter than the volcano in the back of your head.

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison. It will always be my poison no matter how old we get.

Poison is everywhere

it's in our water and in our air

it's in our soil and in our food

Poison is just no good

Rattlesnake,

slithering snake,

inject me with your venom,

you sexy minx,

All it takes is one lethal

dose and I'm dead,

Rattlesnake,

You are my women

Rattlesnake,

slithering snake,

I hear you coming

that song that dance

so sexy,

you put me in a trance,

Rattelsnake,

slithering snake,

lethal injection,

sexual frustration,

Rattlesnake,

fuck me, fuck me!!!

Kiss me with your

venom

Rattlesnake

Can you grasp something that's invisible
In the streets governed by the streets driven criminal
In the sheets, painted up with a face that isn't yours
and your hands tainted with the blood of others, and unopened doors

What if I wasn't like you?

And I was just me, and Myself was true?

And if you did bad would it mean I would too? 

Would it mean if I did it, I'm exactly like you?

Would I be subject to your evil?

Would I be subject to your internal upheaval?

What if I am good in spirit,

And you might just rather not hear it

And if I did bad, does it mean I'm just like you?

Looking for an excuse for the culprit that causes blue?

Decisions left to baseless comparison

Myself gone from me, and origin

She tells me so, I'm just like him and her

Do you see my other qualities as just a blur?

Bring my poison, she admits me to it

Determines me as someone else and then she sits

Then, who am I?

A continuation of your deranged views, someone elses cry?

I'm sorry about my burden, how I'm so wrong,

And how I'm so stupid with all that I do.

I'm sorry about the way I am, I dont belong.

I'm sorry that I never at all deserved you.

But you can't see this part of me I'm hiding,

That's so crudely hidden under what you see?

I'm sick of crying, and I can't keep on trying,

Without you I'm worthless, you are so free.

You're my antidote that gets me past every day,

You're the one to always save me from my agony.

I wish I could show you I can't live this way.

I wish I could show you my sorrowful blasphemy.

The infectious pain quickly tears me apart,

And shatters my will within a few words.

I feel so helpless, I wish I could restart,

And go back to when I wasn't such a coward.

You're my lost antidote, come cure this poisoning;

Come reverse me, turn me to my former being.

Please stay forever and keep me from maddening,

And keep me from the edge, stop the bleeding.

Chapter Nineteen

'The mark of a coward'

“The devil will wait for me on the road of desolation,

at the crossroads of my weakness and obsessions.

Will these words become my final chapters?

As I walk head on into the den of vipers.”

           I am still here, still alive and kicking. Down but not out. I still have some fight left in me and a great man would stand and take that beating once again. Only I am no great man, as I just want to lay here until they are finished with their abuse.

Life is a challenge as we confront our demons that tempt us into the free peep shows of sin at the core of our hearts and minds. Even now I can hear her whispering in my ear and even now as my tainted blood pumps through my body I feel her seductive pull that is peace. To become numb, both physically and emotionally.

We live in a world that sucks the very life from you. To survive in a broken shell of a body. Abused by years of bad choices and horrible mistakes and often finding myself repeating many of them. Should be into my prime, when I feel I need a crutch just to manage through the day. Reaching my limit of self centered narcissistic egotistical sadistic people who only see me as some bump in their way. It is disturbing that once regarded friends would only use me for money, cheap labor, or a glorified taxi service and those friends would become ghosts when I would find myself in need of a helping hand.

        The human emotion. A paradox that could drive a person to insanity. When negativity roots itself deep into your soul you are left but with few options and even fewer that look promising. It is in your darkest hour, battling your demons and hordes of beasts that want nothing more then to skin you alive, do you find your worth.

Left alone, and to your vices. Where when even the most extreme outlook can feel like it's your only lifeline. It is not always just about suicide being the worst remedy to depression. Sometimes the most tragic tale of a man's saga to survive is that he simply just gave up.

          The worst part is that reflection behind the mirror is truly not my own, rather a junkie hiding in a collapsing shell. That bitch of temptation did her job well. Having me strung out and left for dead on more then one occasion. She believed I was indeed broken, having gave up like my eyes told the world. I had lost everything that was beautiful and was thrown to the darkness to believe the lie that love was dead and gone. All I saw was pain and suffering, lies and assholes. Monsters and ugly beasts living in paradise. There was once a time when I would pray for madness. An escape from the brutality of the darkness. I am no great man, I am but a coward.

“I feel as if death hovers over my shoulder

just out of eye sight. That eerie sensation

that you are slowly slipping away.

Knowing your losing grip on reality,

why continue to chase the demon?”

                        'The fallen shall be slain;

Forever to know pain and to the victors with a kiss. Sealed obedience and hear the whispers down the hall. They speak of how you will fall. Tripped by your own accord, a purchase you could never afford. Now bound by debt, you praise your slavery with regret. Just close your eyes, there goes just another star for you to idolize. When up is down you cannot feel around, how does the honest man survive?

          Face the mirror, face the demon within yourself. Taste the fear and destroy yourself. Sick and tired of circles, the idiots and bigots hypnotized by the sparkles. The meek can't afford to be weak, when the devil is standing at the peek and just think of the havoc he will wreak.

So now I stand before the gates, as the fallen have been slain.

My heart now hangs in shame. The honest man dies.

Ask yourself if the heavens cry out in sorrow,

would you feel the tears as they fell from the sky?

Walking with the blind, collectively empty, your soul left behind.'

My ode to the soap opera

Originally created to sell soap

And now they steal souls

Hypnotising the populous

To think others lives exist

That are worse than us

Screaming, shouting too

The air is normally blue

Throw in a murder or two

Compared to your life?

How does it compare to you?

A catchy, established tune

Normally introduces you

Images of a fictional town

Soon starts the darkness

Actors with permanent frowns

definitely work of fiction

but some have an addiction

nothing but a life constriction

living another’s dream world

in life terms a contradiction

Commercial channels cramming

Materialisms advertising

Addiction lead to wallet resizing

this format got you gripped?

Needs a personal uprising

energy flows to your tv

when you stare; circuitry

rewired very covertly

why their called programs

to ensure your conformity

in a system that shouldn’t be

we should all be flying free

being controlled quietly

though nobody would admit

this, it surely be

Sweet it is to
sleep but even
sweeter to
dream.

To drink the
nectar of
forgetfullness.

For all to be
like it once
was.

Sweet poison
of little lies
to cloud the
bitter truth.

Memories of
what never was
awoken for
one night.

Freedom from
the burdens
of life.

Sleep well sweet
child!

Dream of
happiness long
gone.

Hide in darkness
until the dreaded
morning comes.