In a down and out town
Lives a man not occupied enough to be a clown
the jokes on him
and the joke wears thin
living in the past
cast in the jaws of hell that last
and captures all his virtues narrowed
by fate in acting up too late he is a sparrow
locked in a cage
Mindless and in a unconscious rage
he may tweet on Twitter
and he has a lot to witter
but his mind is full of doubt
and opportunities don’t come often
the blows which rain down from people with agendas
who will take advantage of misadventure
he is a drunken loon
not by alcohol but by the moon
insanity is casting aspersions
and his friends leave and desert him
he yearns like the sparrow to fly free
but he hasn’t got heaven’s key
medical sedatives don’t inspire visions
What he needs is a decision
to break with the past.
love Andover poem of the day false hope?
Poem and commentary around the idea of hope formed from a short poem I wrote about a bird singing while being trapped in hell.
The clammer of the overthinking overwhelmed mind
chattering away with itself like a overused hard drive.
Hope, but she is a caged bird waiting for her master
faith but all faith is enslaved in disaster.
A sonnet of despair, a song of solitude
a monologue of filth and the rude
a innocent boy and a prude.
A crazy overbearing self talk squawk
a chalk drawing of heart that’s been erased.
A penis looking up at the sky
A black dog biting its owner
A loner waiting for the strength to cry.
Freedom from attachment
but a wanting to be engaged and attached
Discourse divorced a face scratched.
silence like a scream
a dream turning into a nightmare
a blank stare
a daydream being expelled.
Hell carrying on into a lonely hello
An eye open that cannot be shut
a slut shutdown clown
love becoming only a noun.
Blood shot eyes
Awake in flashback nightmares
Screaming in silence
Lost in guilt ridden violence
Everyday is a brutal regime
There’s no distinguishing no changing
What I have done
Screaming victims is the war won?
A burning temper
A cold December
I try not to drink.
Realities torment I try not to think
Every time their faces come back to me
I stammer when I talk, I just can’t be
Screaming victim is the war won?
My family tries to support
My ravaged soul
I see the flames
They are burning out if control
In the distance a ray of light
Paralyzed by anxiety
I look to my family
Is the war won?
I am getting beaten
But I won’t back down
I forgive myself
I won’t back away
If there is a god
They’d forgive me I pray
I have let my war fade away…
Scars, the stars have fallen
Your black hole soul casts a shadow
longer than the night
Sometimes you have to bleed to fight
You ask me to free you from the curse
Did I make it worse?
I go it alone
I want you and I to have a home
Maybe in desperation we are better off alone…
If fate is fact
Then is life fiction
Written by God
Our daily affliction.
If our destiny is death
With life sandwiched in between
Is life free choice or someone else’s dream?
Or is it a scheme?
A set level on a platform game
Perhaps freedom isn’t real
We are slaves to karma
We don’t define our lives they have already been defined
Time is a certain answer, choice a question?
Philosophers then should know their own destination
Who has defined our character if fate or destiny exists?
Is it circumstance that guides our hand or actions
Either way what is fates desire?
To throw us into the fire
To see how we turn out
Was there any doubt?