PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

leave the corner when you hear the bell
did all the dead poets all go to hell
did they have a magic window with visions
did they all die from self-inflicted incisions
nodding off with the absent of grace
to late to make my escape
see me hurtling in space
too late
to save me from fate

the night filled with stillness, black on black
those words fell off her lips and she can’t take them back

like the dull roar of a F-18 sent to send the spent missive of missile words
even the warfare sounded like a poem but no peace could be heard

now, I’m battered, beaten, broken and bruised
don’t soothe me with anymore treacheries I'm tired of being used
don’t you look at me with an evil eye on the clock
gone cold steel blue hard as a rock

cut off the votive hands of Basil

he can't use his tool another word for utensil

murderers rush the knelt martyrs of the Bloody Cross

the sin felt good to the ugly cowards they have salads to toss

pompous presence will shake all the idols

life force is leaving and losing all vitals

now commercials presence deem to flatter the fatter cows

they fell down and were shattered, scattered and tattered
still the conception was a mystery
chalk it up to angelic history
daffodildos scatter tie dye petals
hear the piercing screaming of fingernails clawing metal

every embrace is a rape waiting to score
as is every virgin mother a lying whore