PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Part I:  Inserted City





There are possible devils there,

Hanging on the grass,

Playing harps of heavy cries,

Sulking in shadows everywhere,

Yeah, there are devils here,



Pin-holed and locked away for good,

I connect the dots with burnt matchsticks,

Watching the imps with limp indifference,

Yet making copious notes in tearproof books,

Yeah, I got the glorious goods,



And even though this is stored in some cubby-hole,

Parallel dimensions on gridlike checkers,

Blueprinted on my present existences,

I feel my body is down in bread-dough,

My mind puty in a closet-hall-drawer.





Part II: CtrlAltDelete





My all your thoughts and feelings on

these things be with you and give you

strength in times of worry and desol

ation at the thoughts and feelings of

being alone all the time because maybe

it's okay to be alone is it okay to be

alone and without that four letter wor

d maybe maybe not moreso and to the po

int I'd like to take this opportunity

to thank God and my Family for all the

thoughts and feelings of gratitude and

thanks true thanks for being here or p

retending to feel a deep sense of belo

nging in the midst of all the pain and

loss and crying and deprivation and co

ntinuing continually counting down cou

nting down the minutes until you cant

count anymore and oh my where am I goi

ng with this oh my I've probably said

too much or not enough of what's impor

tant or maybe I should explain what th

is constant pain and suffering is or w

hat it's like to stay up all night alo

ne watching your own shadow talk to it

self or lost in a hole at the bottom o

f a mine shaft with the numbered beast

glowing bright with blood or taking a

snapshot of time with your eyes or wat

ching a mushroom cloud blossom before y

our very body or seeing all the colors

of the rainbow with the third eye and

many more besides or how about time I

learned to read the shorelines for tho

ughts and feelings and thoughts and fe

elings and, oh fuck it.









Part III: The Best Shade of Yellow







God can speak to me, but it's not really speaking,

He needles me with my own emotions, mumbles really,

Sometimes it's more a feeling, than a thought,

Patchy kind of thing, like on a cordless from space,

Y'know come to think, maybe, yeah, pretty sure, it's Satan.







Epilogue: the answer is Peaches, Peaches everyone, ooooh kay I know I know, okay, next one....