PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Caked in dust, absorbed in other people’s memories,

Breathing crisp air at the breaking of the wall.

Tapping into the potential of everything that could be,

Barbed adrenaline furiously pumping at the gears.

Winter’s song chills the breath of those who sing it,

Icicles form on the trail of captured breath,

On the tail end of disaster that greets all with a smile,

Escaping into reality, as pieces of the subconscious die.

Plucking away at the vitality of nature’s core,

Winds howl as trees writhe in agony,

Like old bones to youthful pressure,

How we wrap our skeletons to hold in the warmth when we feel alone,

Unique vibrations that resonate are seen as glitches of the soul.

Let the quiet girl speak
She waits like a goldfish, large parted lips
Gobble up flakes of girlfriends' conversation
In the soft liquid atmosphere, cafe in the rain
Moisture, Heat, Music
Lying like Transylvanian haze upon hardwood

Let the loud one be silent at last
Coloured pigeons scuffle over specks of attention
Pink wings parted under bra straps
In sandals, feet shuffle nervously under the table
Hair Dye, Cards, Earrings
Blending like kaleidescope in gray afternoon

Let them flutter off into the drying street
They hesitate like sparrows on high cable
Make plains for distant rendezvous at the hilltop fort
In a daze, i watch them take off suddenly
Wet Clothes, Eyes, Teacup
Burning like underground coal 'neath the mountain

I'm not the one to come running when you call,
In fact I don't care if I never see you at all,
Your bullshit rides through history cut out all my shit,
You say I lie and make up shit that your memory don't fit,
How easy the troubles of others you forget my fricken dear,
How easily manipulated the truth when it's too hard to hear,
Christmas was always special and birthdays always grand,
Oh bullshit please, I played second fiddle in this band,
you talk of pitiful, trivial things you look away at the neglect,
You never understood the voices in my head lives past infect,
To think thee seed that spawned me forth is differently sowed,
That two others identical to you so haplessly born easy to goad,
Threatened by my resilience and my spiritually intelligent truths,
I never had it easy, you were always thinking I was dumb streuth,
I couldn't read the lines but between them I always could quite plain,
Sitting outside your vicious gossip circles, I find no pleasure in others pain,
Shopping for your trinkets and buying just one more So I wouldnt be sore,
You never knew me you never will you selfish close minded beings of bore,
For if you knew me like my spirit friends knew,
would you be so quick to cut me like you do?
Your stupid insecure attacks hurt me for a second I fall,
Although I hate the fact that I feel any sting at all,
Because through all your skewered recollections called,
same as my own being a slanted view of my own warped recall,
So whose is whose history? and what is what is still a mystery?
I'll never know why I was pushed outside the warm circle to neglectful misery,
but this I'll feel till the end The steel woolen scraping of the layers inbeded in my skin,
hoping me to be something else other than what I've been,
fingers ripping the sides of my mouth to never speak of it again,
And here's the bitter twist I've loved you always even then,
but I do not like you and this for you will do just fine,
And I with my steel-woolen armour ghosts conferring in my mind,
I will be who you never wished I was meant to be,
my grating steel-woolen black sheep we.