back-words... poetry - pt.2

Sunday, September 9, 2007
poetry...
here's some more old poems dug up from my archives. enjoy...


Being Underwhelmed

Deep within the dank, dark recesses of my mind,
there lurks a lost soul with an untraceable personality.....
A personality that finds solace and sanctuary in my very being.
Impenetrable and clinging,
does a partial mortal essence ponder in solitude.
Basking in pure silence,
my mind conjures images of bodies,
dancing flagrantly,
while I satisfy an intellectual itch.

Loaded with utter blasphemy,
the worm attacks me again,
without hesitation.

Contemplation of salvation is persistent.
Thus ends one thought and starts another.

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Yellowed, Never-ending Concepts Blanched from Wisdom

Invisible slander tyrannies down in sheets of laughter.
Cyclonic forces subside and the horrid truth is unrevealed about abrupt nothingness.
Mystic shades of snow gently soar upward in a red motion, disagreed upon the facts.
An upward gaze to find the underworld happily dominated by effortless merchants.
Bear on and give without, yet receive unbiased understanding.

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Bound by Spirit

Look here, good fellow,
Haven't you ever heard of friendship?
It's a strong, everlasting bond between people.
You and I -- we are people.
Don't you want this bond between us?
I do.

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A Desperate Man's Cardboard Poetry

My darling,
Passionately does the blood burn in my heart for you.
As I kiss your lips, I taste the sweet moisture
And I feel the warmth of your soul in your very breath.
You take my breath away, at that.
My thirst can be quenched only
By your burning desire.
I am wanton to sip your luscious wine
Colored ruby red.
I must see you.
-The One Who Loves You

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On the Contents of this Man's Poetry

All this and more
You shall read about:
New age and folk's lore,
Life and its zany route
And much, much more!
You shall hear of love and hate,
Also the deceit of my broken down fate.
There are tales of fakes and trust,
Not to mention trials of merit
And unfortunately, life's unforgettable stale crust
As well as the purity of something that is twenty-four karat.

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craving comfort

i am having a weak night;
there is too much dying and sorrow.
it brings out my weaknesses and rubs them in salt.
it sounds like an old diary, a diary that is my soul
and these are words born from the soul…

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thanks for your time. i hope you were entertained. more to come...