Gouged out eyes
Cut out tongue
Pierced eardrums.
Feel the drum
Blind, deaf, mute
Feeling like never before
Cauterize the fingers,
Cauterize the toes,
Stench?
Where’s your nose?
Feel the prose?
Floating in Floats.
Tasting all tastes.
Screaming through screams.
Seeking through Seas.
Making senses make sense.
Breeze thaws freeze
Bears climb trees.
Christ on His Knees.
Poems, wine, cheeze
Sheep to the slaughter
Now, no one’s free.
Every knee bowed.
Wake up, no one’s free
Awake? we’re all free
Wake up, no one’s free
Awake, we’re all free
Wake up,
Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 3:28 AM UTC
Hello, Poetry.
What happened to you?
What turned, when did a “thumbs up” become the end?
Then again,
A “thumbs up” was at the start.
So where was the turn,
Perhaps in our heart?
So, watch me now.
Watch me fly away and never return.
Questions answered,
Poetry answered my call,
It gave me wings,
And I fly away from It all.
Goodbye, Poetry— I mustn't, I can’t, I will not see you next Fall.
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 6:22 PM UTC
Writing,
Drawing and painting.
Woodworking,
Welding and making.
Circuitry,
Electronics and more.
Pneumatic, mechanic, IC chips galore.
***** in the veins,
skewed and torn.
Hangovers battled, and seemingly won...
...as the body grows numb...
...limbs waking in hazy hum.
Roll another,
Tobacco makes its mark—
Lungs defiled,
Body failing,
Cherries burn brightest in the dark.
Lets call some lucky,
That they knew from the start,
Yet I continued hoping,
He would come back and restart.
The years draw on,
The day the pickup drove away,
I screamed for him,
Did he hear? check the review mirror and then accelerate?
Children of my own, a wife, and a home.
5150,
It's waiting....
It's ready, patiently prone.
Context needed,
Needed for concepts to churn
Listen closely.
A decibel past a whisper —
A Truth heard from the urn.
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 4:39 AM UTC
Dying by suicide.
Drowning myself,
Scorching myself,
Withering and frail,
Mental suicide,
Pickled brain,
Chasing my tail.
The courage lost,
That day I set sail.
Myself and my sorrows,
Going down with the ship,
Clutched to one another-
Drowning partners,
Vests float on by.
We are going down with the ship.
Now, I'm stuck down here.
A fate unforeseen.
Here, at the bottom of the sea.
A pocket of air and borrowed breath-
Water collapses in,
And stifles my cry to be free.
Blackness ensues,
People mourn.
A heart renews,
Mending what was once torn.
Looking down, the ships float on by.
Knowing now,
They all sail on a bottomless sea.
And their end,
Is their only chance to be free.
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 9:18 PM UTC
when my time comes
it comes
and I will gladly leave
to those who go on living
the task of sorting out
the mess I have accumulated
over years
let them discover
not only the stamp collection
the bank accounts
but also unknown niches
of their father’s/friend’s/husband’s life
the words unspoken
scribbled on some paper
thoughts never shared
for lack of time or opportunity
the letters to a friend of yore
emails to many people
hints of potential
love affairs that maybe never happened
ideas to change the world
into a better place
here I am
now with a 7 before my years
envisioning life after death
a sign of vanity
perhaps
or an expression of despair
I am not sure
it may just be
the fleeting thoughts
on a clear winter evening
when cold creeps slowly
but insistently
into your bones
reminding you
of all that cold space
in our universe
how it grows larger by the second
making you wonder
if it has a plan
and if that plan
includes you
speculating
about your destiny
* * *
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 2:18 AM UTC
.
*Last night
she said I was cold.
Unreachable.
Surrounded in a halo of frost.
It burnt her fingers
as she dared to touch,
but there was little there.
Just … frost-bite,
and the sense
that she was alone in the room.
In body I was there,
but the Boat of Millions of Years
was sailing through my eyes
to the intended destination,
my lost mind.
She called to me
but I was to far to hear.
Down her soft cheeks
the tears did stream,
as she screamed my name
over and over.
She screamed until
the screams turned to sobs,
as the slow realisation
that I no longer knew her,
knew me, knew anything,
hit her like a wave of grief,
freezing her emotions dead.
Last night
she said I was cold.
And I was cold
because I knew that it was
our Last Night.*
© Pagan Paul (16/02/20)
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 11:22 PM UTC
You were smaller then,
You called me Da Da.
Id pick you up,
hold you close,
Tears and snot, seeping through my shirt.
I wish I had that shirt,
wish I never washed it.
Id wear it always,
And pick you up,
hold you close,
And remember when,
when you were smaller then.
Praying that You and I,
would never end.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 7:07 AM UTC
Words are nothing.
To the blind I say the same.
In action truth is realized,
In tongue merely shaped.
Both sides lived-
With sight and without.
Words have their appeal,
Zero comparison to heartfelt zeal.
locked-in syndrome-
the ending to conundrum.
senses are endless,
The confusion shows they're senseless.
Let the "ending" perpetuate,
In circles lie the debate,
No resolution to celebrate.
All the while, the "Locked-in"
May have a real chance,
at finding the voice within.
Words are empty,
Being can simply-
The way to attain,
A truth fanned into flame.
Where skeletons in the closet, may now meet their slain.
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 1:00 AM UTC