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Not Feeling Poetic
Folder:
Pain Once again you have crushed
my manhood with the insistent
pounding of your venomous tongue
causing my spirit to plunge
back into this toilet we
call reality
where you find orgasmic anal
pleasure by taking a shit
on me
Ferociously I fight to keep
my soul alive
my spirit on high
but you insist on seeing
me die...daily
That's it!!!! This is what I've been looking for over the last two years -- a simple explanation of what the hell's wrong with me. Why my body isn't reacting the way it should. Why my heart has shut down and turned into this thing I don't recognize. Why my poetic songs have stopped coming to me in melodious mentalities that keep me above everything and everybody else. I'm a writer dammit. Fuck it, I'm a lover which makes me a writer dammit. And why wasn't I singly freely on a weekly basis to tell the world how beautiful it was via my blessed gifts of writing prose. It was YOU!!! (i.e., the dreamsnatching son of a guns that look us in the face only to tell us they love us right before they Brutus us to death.)
Am I bitter?!? Damn right. My poetry is my pride and my lifeline. Without it I am dead. So now I take back my life and all that lies within it.
Whew!!! I feel better now. I guess I just needed to vent one last time . . . you know, before I bit the last peace of that sucka off my stick. I have a new sweetie now so all is well.
Take care and thank you for listening! Your trigger had made me feel better! Always a sign of excellent poetry :-)
Dana Jewel
I So feel your pain in this one. I really miss seeing you express yourself like this. You took a piece of my souls lyricist when you stopped writting...really, you did
Damn luv...who made you feel like that??? Well whoever did it can kiss your ass...with there tounge out...YOUR FLOETRY IS LIKE THAT! This piece was hot though...your word play was smooth...very smooth