somewhere, we are lost in
conversation; translating
the hidden effects of
tranquility and internetporn.
somewhere, deep in African
lastnames and traits expanding
like balloon models
of that which we used to
revere,
you stepped on an elipses
and fucked your way out
of my semicolons.
scary, isn't it, how we put on the guises of people who give a shit, or someone people should give a shit for; when really, all the chiaroscuro of the moment condenses into one solid, inconquerable block of lead when we attempt to
fake it.
forgetmenots
written in hallmark verse
have a way of ignoring
everything we really meant
to say. somewhere, you're
a lost little girl biting the hands
of strangers.
it's the way we skip and frolic
through endeavors like discerning
escorts, pretending along the way
that we are artists and poets
and sensitive souls all the same --
because somewhere, you're out
pretending you can sing.
A contest entry
- looking for new favorites! by August Starlight.
425 points, ended October 19, 16 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
pretending along the way
that we are artists and poets
and sensitive souls all the same --
because somewhere, you're out
pretending you can sing.
That right there is a poem all on it's own...it says more than anything to me about how we as writers look at things, not everyone hears the music, but I think you do.
C
-
hmm. interesting.
you have a way of drawing me in with your writing. thank you for entering and good luck. -
"the chiaroscuro of the moment condenses"
That's a seriously great line, Poet. I chuckled about the "internet porn" thing; when I first got on the net, the idea of "internet sex" stymied me - what, the modem and the mouse??? 
I much prefer warm flesh to a cold monitor. 
This is a pensive piece, filled with clarity and profound thoughts. Good luck in the contest, Sweetie. 
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