PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 

 

 

 

A Parable of Painted Truths

 

 

I. The Privileged Perspective

 

 

In my gilded cage of crystalline lies,

 

I dance with a pink ostrich 'neath opalescent skies.

 

My wheelchair gleams with polished pride,

While others' struggles I deride.

 

 

    Such delicious power in words that wound,

 

    Like poisoned honey, sweetly round.

 

    (For who would doubt a voice like mine?

 

    When privilege and pain intertwine.)

 

 

 

 

II. The Betrayed Friend's Lament

 

 

My cat lies suffering, grey and thin,

 

While memories of friendship wear so thin.

 

Twenty-five years of shared delight,

 

Now scattered like moths in endless night.

 

    No comfort comes from one who knew

 

 

    The depth of bonds between us two.

 

    Instead, she spins her gossamer tales,

 

    Of greed and need that never was.

 

 

        (The truth drowns in her waterfall of lies,

 

        While my beloved companion slowly dies.)

 

 

 

 

III. The Flood's Memory

 

 

 

When waters rose like serpents vast,

 

 

And savings slipped into the past,

 

 

Fifty dollars—thrown like crumbs

 

 

To one whose world had come undone.

 

 

 

    Now twisted into weapons sharp,

 

 

    These memories play a bitter harp.

 

 

    While trauma's tendrils grip my core,

 

 

    She stands and slams each closing door.

 

 

 

IV. The Ostrich's Warning

 

 

(In whispered, clicking tones)

 

 

Crikey, listen close, you privileged soul,

 

 

Your lies may seem to make you whole,

 

 

But like my feathers—once so pink and bright—

 

 

Your truth is bleaching in harsh daylight.

 

 

 

    Each fabrication that you weave

 

 

    Returns to make your world deceive.

 

 

    Until your words, though sugar-sweet,

 

 

    Lie rotting at your pristine feet.

 

 

 

 

V. The Universal Chorus

 

 

 

Truth echoes in the spaces between,

 

 

Where liars' words have never been.

 

 

Though silver tongues may sparkle bright,

 

 

They tarnish in truth's revealing light.

 

 

 

    For those who weave deception's dance,

 

 

    Lose more than just a passing glance—

 

 

    When truth at last demands its due,

 

 

    No soul will trust what once rang true.

 

 

 

 

VI. The Revelation

 

 

(In scattered whispers)

 

 

She walks in manufactured grace,

 

 

A mask of kindness on her face,

 

 

While underneath, the shadows crawl

 

 

And empathy begins to fall.

 

 

 

    The pink ostrich watches, knowing well

 

 

    Each fabricated tale she'll tell.

 

 

    Its feathers fade with every lie,

 

 

    Until all colour starts to die.

 

 

 

        For in the end, what's left to gain

 

 

        When truth becomes a source of pain?

 

 

        The liar stands in splendid gold,

 

 

        Believed by none, forever cold.

 

 

 

In memory of a cat who deserved more than silence,

 

 

And for those whose stories were twisted into thorns.

 

 

Desperate defiance in the dark

 

 

Voice vanishing, vaporised by virtual vitriol

Algorithms amplify absence, abandonment

Words once winged now wither, wane

Trauma's tendrils tighten, twist, torment

 

 

Silence. Deafening. Oppressive. Inescapable.

 

 

Childhood's cruel cacophony echoes, endures

Rape's raw rage resurfaces, relentless 

Abuse's ache amplifies, accumulates

Gaslighting's glare grows, guts grace

 

 

A chill wind of indifference swept through the room, leaving me shivering and unseen.

 

 

Neurodivergent narratives, now nullified 

Vestibular vertigo, vision vacillating

Fibrous fire flares, flays fragile flesh

Depression's darkness deepens, devastating

 

 

The empty chair across from me seemed to mock my solitude, 

 

its vacant seat a cruel reminder of my isolation.

 

 

Social streams shrink, shrivelling slowly

Platforms purge purpose, passion, power

Identity invalidated, invisibility impending

Self-worth withers like wilting flower

 

In silence, I found solitude; in solitude, I embraced silence

 

Yet still, soft syllables simmer, survive

Waiting, whispering: "We will rise."

For even silenced, stifled, suppressed

The soul's song softly, surely sighs

 

 

Through the hollow halls, past the empty rooms, 

 

beyond the echoing silence, 

 

a single, defiant voice dared to speak

 

 

In the depths of this suffocating silence, 

A flicker persists, refuses to die. 

Though the world may try to extinguish our light, 

We will rise, reclaim our stolen sky.

 

 

.

As I stuggle with whether or not I can maintain my sanity I am conviced that I "have to" as a proud act of endless protection for you. 

It hurts me knowing I have failed to live up to expecations but don't worry fam... your big Bro will always use survival instincts to get us through.

I can't offer you much from a financial stanspoint because I am usually without the means.

However temporarily abandoning my morals and standards to help make ends meet is acceptable;or at least that is how it sometimes seems.

The pressure I face as a gay man that once was oblivious to his simple yet magnetic looks is often frustrating enough to make me want to hide for eternity!!

Yes, your beatiful gay big Bro has unspoken daily battles navigating life in this double standard world which severely impacts me!

Yet, I consistently put up the brave face like several others in this world; hell at least I am blessed to have looks as a fall back.

As long as it is left up to me, you will never "go without" due to a selfless compromises that I lack!

I refuse to let my mental challenges prevent me from having your best interest consantly on my mind.

I am technically not always your "big bro"; sometimes you're my senior who's cognitive decline is a result of dealing with a society that is so unkind!

Never the less, whether you're my sibling, family or friend you can continue to place your trust in me knowing the love I have for you.

No physical or mental sacrifice is to large; as long as GOD continues to supply me with life "Big bro GOT YOU!!!"

 

By Bryant Mosley

I can’t stop dreaming about your eyes

i want them to be my eyes

i can’t stop staring at your mouth cause I want it on my other set of lips. I can’t help but want to wrap my legs around you

the arousal you cause in me with your mere existence some days makes me feel like I’m going insane. I’m not going to lie. We wouldn’t work if we weren’t both a little crazy. So fuck me like the crazy bitch I know you can be . Cause baby oh baby I don’t want to be your child, I got my own, I got me and I’m here to get you under me and on top of me don’t matter how bring that booty of yours over here. Shame you ever have to sit on it but don’t worry I’ve got an idea we can just set your groin in my mouth mmmm the settle flavors drive me wild like my favorite candy. So baby tackle me cause you already got me Locked down show me something new take me on a new adventure I trust you to keep me safe.