Prose - A Poet's Obsessions
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Vomiting talk on love, greed and politics
Obsessing about pain, loneliness and metaphysics
Pretending to be a prophet in my unslumbering mind
Wandering over to you to let you in on a revelatory find
That you may or may not want but will come to know
While you raise the glass to your sweet red lips trying not to show
How bored yet fascinated you are with the next word or forty
Because it’s life before it happens or a coda to some other story
Told in a way that you cannot ignore because it’s the truth that blows
Flooded with the tears that you dried before they stained your pretty clothes
To mask the vacuousness of Saturday night boys who can only look
Acting cock sure in banter they memorized from a dead man's book
No more or less meaningful than anything I’ve ever said or could reveal
Of all things that I believe about life that I can no longer conceal
From my solitary existence where no man can stomach or stand
The constant state of thought rejecting out of hand
Trendy desperation of approval and shrewd thievery
Faith sales, unkindness and notorious celebrity
The things that make me sick with disgust over the human race
As I run through the cavities of another poet's dark place
I see men bragging and living on vicarious pleasure
Accepting ill-gotten gain for an earthly treasure
And emotionally immature desires fueling a mob’s fury
In reckless celebration causing injury
I see the down-hearted unable to find love
Because they are different or unattractive
I see two men born of the same mother
Begging on Christmas day leaning on one another
I see the bitterness I feel towards a woman
The one I thought was the only one
I laugh as I pass the things I once desired
And sneer at the people I once admired
I see adults talk while my child sings
And block my view to rearrange their things
I see a happy girl on her wedding day
But soon to be divorced with nothing to say
I see the only thing that makes people able to cope
Is to drink, smoke and fuck while death tightens the rope
I see good people adopt a young boy
And then cancer robbing them of their joy
I see reality TV and a material girl become rich
Because of a sex tape and being a bitch
I see a man go to war and learn about the horror
And then speak loudly with truth that causes furor
I see praying, evangelizing and moralizing
By men of sin taking advantage of true believing
I see selfish behavior in search of a feeling
Become useless activity devoid of meaning
But then I touch you and you turn to me
With the look of love that I want to see
And I wonder why I burden you
With the injuries my mind cannot subdue
I continue to kick the apple core in your garden
And curse the snake that made my mind harden
As your desperate beauty dances within my burning soul
Mocking it almost as if superficiality is in control
A lightness that incubates within the flame
Impervious to all its trauma and pain
Waiting for madness to end
And for sanity to begin
CommentsLoading...
Hi, Mark!
My favorite lines, "But then I touch you..cannot subdue".
Great work! Simply awesome! Voted up and away :D
Beautifully done, thank you for sharing. Voted up, marked beautiful.
What I always learned about everything I see
Is to not do those things I don't like to see
What I decided after I witnessed an awful story
Is to make a peace with my inability to change history
Write it down
Then let go all of my worry
Let all flown
Before it turn into fury
Try to lean my trust on humanity
So I can have my own sanity
Until later...
When finally
I see the way to solved life without falter
Without another misery
Your words are echoes inside my head, Mark.
felt like a tour within my own dark mind ~As I run through the cavities of another poet's dark place
The only thing to do Is to drink, smoke and fuck! how clearly the futility is seen.
But just like you ended..
~
Waiting for madness to end
And for sanity to begin
I am fascinated.
True we cannot be this way in our every day life..If I knew what is sanity i wouldn't wait...but like you said, seems once we've seen what we have in the dark, can't help but go back there...truth is in the extremes.
This was a brilliant piece...Your words twist and bend into each other at a staggering rate. Bravo to you.













snakeslane Level 7 Commenter 5 months ago
I'm learning to love your 'raves' Suburban Poet, this one speaks with such eloquence, such rage, and that driving rhythm you have perfected so artfully. Regards, snakeslane