My lips cause laugh lines
while I listen to you
say how crazy you think you are.
Your heart's a mess of absinthe
and white lines, white lies;
despite the thought that
you were always against
that sorta thing.
Like the sun comes 'round the moon,
and sighs in disgust
when her lunar momentum finds a planetary entity
to spin around--
you can't be the center of the universe
in a world like this.
Heart transplants dance across your sleeve;
in tune with the moods you contradict
in the situations you perceive.
You're not depressed,
but unsatisfied with vanilla life--
self-diagnosed insanity
to pull the stars from the sky
with the imperfections you unveil
in every word and rhyme--
Lines you stole straight from the back of my thoughts;
your art, solely the impression
of an attention-driven mind.
In all honesty;
I'll need you to leave your condescending nature at the door.
Or step out;
Because I'm putting my foot down,
and I'm not taking it anymore.
I'll cut my ties
and leave the rope-end blood
splashed across your floor.
Author notes
This sucks; it isn't poetry so much as ranting placed into stanzas.
I promise, I'll get back to serious writing soon...
This is kind of a daily mental exercise thing for me.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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man,
wtf is "serious writing"?
cause apparently i'm missing out on something.
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So I came to leave a comment on this saying how blown away I was
and then I see david's comment
fucking david.
Great poem Haley, you're amazing.
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Sorry my nig.
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I fucking lol'd.
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To deal with a fake, an imposter, any kind of clown and to only feel dissapointment seems to be what social people live for. I appreciate the comment you left on "Laughing," so here's mine.
Although all the lines are cut at just the right time, line 28 is by far the best part of the peice, I think. It, to me sums up the mood. Of course, there's still a sense of love or a feeling that you truly want to maintain respect for whomever this is, but they're making it difficult for you to do so.
Maybe I'm completely wrong, but this is how I'm reading it.
I don't understand why you wouldn't consider ranting in stanzas to be the most serious writing. It's impulsive. Although it's just an "exercise," I know I'm not alone in liking many of Da Vinci's anatomical studies more than some of his finished works.
This is good.
Real good.
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ranting in stanza form is alright. better than spontaneaus combustion. ...shut up about my spelling
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I love it.
I totally feel you....Everything I've written is basically a rant.
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