Thursday, January 23, 2014

Donuts

Lips wet with promises never kept like
Fire turned to ash and sentences not meant
To sound brash but yet into the air they tear
And swear and curse and bark authority
Never contemplated like unintentional patriarchs
(if such a thing could exist)
And apologies not heard and excuses lost while
Scrambling for the right word
And stumbling for something to say
But no thoughts are found on the way
And basic rhymes keep filling the air
Juvenile ideas of couplet poetry ultimately bullshit
Because the only way to describe
Bloody emotions that run thick as tar and drip red
Is rapid-fire free-verse that drags the soul
Down somber and screaming with eyes wide-open
Drowning in oceans of words with no punctuation to grab
And maybe this is too much
Actually this is definitely too much
A complete exaggeration
A pathetic overreaction
But good poetry reveals
Wounds long since scabbed over and exposes them to
The Unyielding Everything
And the eye of the beholder is blinking repeatedly
With Blind Willie’s dead voice drifting
Dark is the night
Cold is the ground
I still am lost
Will I ever be found?