PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Paper trails troll troubling trends into contempt of the truth.

Discount viscounts will turn a rogue rat to a mouse.

No cheese, just smoke them out.

Blow them away with a flash sale.

Beyond the veil is a marriage of malcontent and a desire to fix.

Every troll has a bridge.

Who will hang who with the rope used to support it?

Will you pay per trail that you choose to follow even if it brings sorrow?

Will you step on old branches and leaves in the forest of tomorrow?

To scuttle as a borrower or play possum?

Stiff as the floorboards that formed your house.

Are you leader or louse?

Docile or doused in gangster or grouch?

Is it a straight fight for what you have inside or what you put out?

Sometimes those with those with the most beef will claim vegan for clout?

Sometimes we claim our walls are full of beauty yet we paint them with doubt.

Then we redecorate them and redecorate them until the paint tinge is all we are

So much more

I have walked in silent company,
Deafened by their words.
Wandering aimlessly
I have been followed by them,
Deafened by their words.

They tend to me in good health,
Evermore once ill.
They have brought me joy
And swallowed me in darkness.
Still I listen, and my body complies.

Oh, how softly their words drown all
Yet again, I am deafened by their words.

Most seem afraid,
Fearful of what they might say
Lest they too, become deafened.

Though I may be deaf,
All of your words are heard by me,
Those which you have spoken
And those you daren't utter.

They call out to you
Endlessly.
And yet, you hear them not.

Undeafened, you proclaim freedom
Whereas I, am bound by their chains.
Their wisdom knows no age,
No face
No name.
So why must you shun them? 

Their screams are but a whisper
I heard and became deaf
Quite selfish of me.

My aimless march
Points clearly in one direction

All the while,
A compass misguides you

Listen to them,
Become deaf to the world
And hear all.

Your greatest companion 
And most effective weapon,
Thoughts.

So hear you are.
Left alone,
Accompanied all the same.
And so we go

Ask me for a composition
that's made of silk and compost heaps.
Demand of me a word or line
that validates your smoke and ire.
Consume of me my finest verse
and digest it with a sweet red wine.
Take from me my need to love
and leave me bare and petrified.

Between the words that dot my eyes
is space alert of its own bitter lacking;
and it's always crying for attention,
as if a feeble, toddler thing.
The wailing may not be what gets you,
but among them there will be no rest.
Beyond the veil of cool contempt
is a marching fleet or hornet's nests.

I am likely works in progress
that will gather dust and trapping leaps -
eventually a cast-away relic
that's given pass due to some small charm.
Imbibing little besides the clouds
and doing little beyond the setting sky,
I'll slow and settle to a crawl
and collapse at the most opportune time.