PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I showed up in an uncomfortable place, all my poems with me.
My voice was murky and intoxicated my consciousness fully unconscious.
The burial grounds are full of Greek, Roman; philosophers’ made to order.
They are doing their best pantomimes’ with old ciphers and codes of the buried sinners.

Who are the losers, if they died a winner?
The past doesn’t go away, it just grabs you.
Around the corner, there’s a promise of something in the wistful air.
Like a foreigner from the stratosphere or maybe it is just the status fear.
An animated past-life is always descending like the way it always was.

We see seven billion different angles at each and every second.
At any time one can be on a mountain top or being dragged through the gutter.
You might want to have some insights you might want to stimulate your senses.
Not so long ago there were public executions that scream from a tree.
The devil came here on vacation looking for a handout.
His panhandling was so good he never left.