PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Always looking for a new high.

I've seen the blue sky

And grabbed it for a second

For a moment it was fresh and

Like so many teary streams

It was comforting but wretched.



Once the prodigy of my thoughts

Lays now basting in a lot

In a barren wasteland of filth

Where my old ideas rot.

How is it that an abundance

Of the sweetest roses sought

Has at once become redundant?

Vile weeds now take their spot.



Orchestrated masses swing

In harmony with what I sing.

And as this piece comes to an end

The notes that glide off every string

Feign dissonance as sharps and flats

Take melodic dives and lose their wings.



Now silent, out of tune, and black

These Quarter notes seem distant things.

The Half notes once on useful track

Fall out and leave a bitter ring.

And much like sweetest hits of crack

These Whole notes once alive now sting.



And now this mental musical sheet

Reads only Rests...