PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Strolling down a long and winding road,

on a quest to kiss the sun.

I Come across a majestic frog to lick;

hallucinogens, coat my tongue.

A group of fairies descend from up above,

providing the powers, of Peter Pan.

With youthful grace, I glide towards the sun,

repeating the words, "I think I can!"

Icarus is my hero.

For his honor, this quest must be done.

With the help of all, these fairies' wings,

I shall finally smooch the sun.

Starvation halts my travels,

so preparedly, I pick through my pack.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

Magic mushrooms; poor choice of snack.

I depart with dismal desperation,

reaching depth-defying heights.

My optimistic outlook obscured,

by the magical meal, I now fight.

A wizardly bird and a rodent with wings,

aide in guiding me back to my path.

Progress short lived, as I plummet back down,

wounded by a warrior wasp's swift attack.

"The sun sends it's sincere regards,"

sinisterly said, by the savage wasp.

"My companions, take up your arms!

Our quest is too important to stop."

Out of the forest poured even more creatures.

Flying frogs fill the fight with their song.

Mice with bows, make the sky black with arrows.

With sorcerous squirrels, slinging spells, this won't last long.

The wasp's brawn, would've beat me in battle;

if it weren't for my magical friends.

As the wasps whisk away in retreat,

cheers of victory ring throughout the land.

Not every battle was victorious, however.

My sanity suffers and is slipping away.

The snack slowly sneaking inside me,

will have me grounded the rest of the day.

Every territorial tussle has victims;

the previously projected path paid the price.

Forgoing road and forcing through forest,

making way, with my magical mice.

I'm lead to an ominous doorway,

lucidity, left lifeless, with a look.

An endless field of fear filling flowers,

baring the haunting head of Captain Hook.

With my adventure's purpose losing clarity,

and my nervous system in severe distress;

I beckon the fairies, to carry me back home;

dreaming of Icarus, as I rest.

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.