It's frightening to think of the spiders
crawling around in my veins; with a heartbeat
of their very own. To think that every moment of
this could disappear into nothing in less than a second.
Frightening, intimidating, and oddly full of temptation.
You could sit all day in front of me and spill out your
stereo cliches with a sad looking record player,
or a ribbon-wound cassette tape; but you'll never understand
the meaning of the word until you've hit the point where --
My, what a world it is.
It's like watching the flowers bloom and unfold
all around me - catching on fire without a match.
Those jumpy, orange and green flowers with no sense
of self-preservation.
You could call it a tragedy and get by for a few days,
but I prefer to call it a mark of weakness and smile
at the sky for another hour or two. If you took the time,
I bet you'd notice the street lights that sit in the clouds and
direct traffic for the stars coming in, one by one, to remind us
that we are only human.
Maybe I'd blink out with them if given the opportunity; but you
really won't be hearing that too often from me. I prefer to put out
positives to take in positives; like an angel, fallen now, used to teach me to do;
but now I've got my blue sky to guide me the right way.
Attention you seek.
Attention
you bleed for.
Author notes
I will stop hating.
I will stop turning my knuckles white with every sentence spit.
I will stop believing that things will change.
I will not listen to a word you say.
I will not deal with tired lines and threadbare thoughts.
I will not take past criticism lying down,
when you can't practice between the lines of your own theories.
You are not a positive influence.
You are not a good person.
You are not life's victim.
You do not care.
You will never care.
Your ideas, set from an event, are sickening.
I am not your inferior being.
I am not what you make me out to be.
I will not try anymore.
I will not think about it anymore.
Really so bad?
Really miss it?
FOOLED ME.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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the idea was not clear, things were looking broken in them
I wish to read it in better style
but style your hard work was appreciable
keep up the good work
by
the poet of hearts and beautiful words
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I generally don't write to be understood; I write in abstract thoughts.
I also don't write for other's, but for myself.
Thank you for the comment, however.
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overall pretty well written. the semi- colons are kinda awkward. they really disturb the flow of the poem. also, "bleed for", "angel, fallen now", and a couple others are a little overused nowadays. but that's no big deal. they definitely fit in the poem. powerful statement you make. well done.
-Barrett
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Pretty darn good.
I like this poem overall. If you don't have the title it threatens to become a little bit too abstract to be fully understood, as I had to reread it with the title in mind to decipher it, but I suppose it's probably a failing of mine that I forget to read titles, always to eager to get to the body of a poem.
I liked the second stanza most I think, with 'tired cliches'... An element of truth in that the lyrics of most songs are only reused cliches, something that always annoys me.
I also like that line split at the end 'Attention/you bleed for.' It drew attention to the right word and was an effective way to end it, especially since the lines were so short compared to the rest.
As I said, I like this poem. It's not very accessable for non-poets, but who wants to be mainstream? This is worth the energy it takes to understand it. Well written.
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Wow
This really was a great piece. I had start back at the beginning once I got to the middle to find the right flow, but that would be my own fault. I couldn't quite understand the dropoff in the middle there and I am confused on whether you meant to use "word" or if you were referring to the cliches and should have used "words" in that same area. Everything else looks good, great write for an emotional subject.
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I did mean word... but the word which I was referring to is never stated within the poem.
It wasn't so much written for public reading as much as to myself. The word itself could only be interpreted by myself, and possibly, the person it was directed toward.
I forget to make notes of things like that.
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Mmm....Good stuffs.
Glad you're not going to deal with it anymore. I'm surprised you actually gave it another go...Id like to hear about what provoked this piece.... -
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Sometimes, painful sentences repeat themselves; and then they never go away.
Unresolved, I suppose. A sense of "I'll never be able to ask why something like that could be said."
A sense of dealing with other people putting stupid thoughts about me into people's minds. People who haven't seen me in months, and assume everything they know from my makeup and clothes.
And I've come to realize, that when you do nothing but sit at home with the person you love and play with your cat; that no one else in this world, especially people who don't like you already, have no fucking room to tell you that you're this or you're that.
To tell other people that I'm this person, when they don't even see me for more than five minutes at a time.
Or to forgive anyone who would take their word for it.
It's like my uncle and cousin all over again.
Who do you believe?
The one you've known as long as you can remember,
or the ones who consistently shit talk everyone around them, including yourself, that you barely know?
Tis life.
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Grrr much?
I wish I understood.
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nice write.
summer is going to be interesting.
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well done!
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