My body makes a fool of me
Betrays my obsidian lies
It’s hard to keep in
What pours from porous eyes
Only so much can be taken
Before seeping out a
Sobbing sinewy mess of
Flesh faced yearning
And too truthful confession
A squawk a squeal an
Unstoppable utterance song
As the tune closes and the
Chokes between syllables
Subside, the tears come less as
The bricks of resolve come one
At a time, the wall is rebuilt
A Foundation of soul, with
Extinguished emotion as mortar
Someone enters and asks
Are you ok, you don’t look it
I am Fine
My Lying teeth tout
every writer secretly feels he's a crap artist--this is no crap poem. me likes.
ReplyDeleteGood to be inspired--
Brooke
If you haven't read it already, you should check out "Big Sur" by Jack Kerouac. I think you'd dig it.
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