Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2016 Karen Hamilton
Sjr1000
Of all the places
she sought to hide
She only found one
safe place inside
in dancing images
where the poetry
resides.
Chainsmoking menthols,
creating clouds on parade.
Living in the dark;
frenching hurt that I've made.
There's a sadness in my comfort
and a comfort in my sadness.
***, fame, ******* down
commercialized madness.

I don't dream of pornstars
as much as I dream of clothes.
Videogames to escape it all,
carbon monoxide through my nose.
Too good for this and that;
entitlement at an all-time high.
Doing television to help me live,
or maybe to help me die.

Spotify for the masses
beating in my brain.
Youtube and pornhub
to make me feel the same
as the lost I compare to myself
and the celebs I want to be.
I want to be on edge, rich, validated;
I want to live in a fractured harmony.
“Up above my head
I hear music in the air
I really do believe
I really do believe
there's a Heaven somewhere”
--Rhiannon Giddens

“Is that all there is?”
--Peggy Lee*

An old philosopher told me this:

“About heaven.
Let’s say there’s more than one.
There’s the one where souls
are lurid with perfection,
piled into bliss,
dreaming of change.

“There’s the one people search for
to fit the story they tell themselves.
I looked for it.  I watched the sky.
I found only words.  Blue sky is
a blank page.  Clouds are garish metaphors.

“Then there’s one that follows you.
Don’t look for it. You can’t find it.
It’s not a place or a path.
It dances at the edge of things
like old photos or a young face
that lives remembered in its older one,
an eternal moment always at hand
trailing like a thought balloon,
a shadow cast by nothing,
forever unfolding, never now.”
Honestly,
How could
Honesty
Ever possibly be the best
Policy
When complications
In democracies
Simply prove we disregard
Philosophies.

To disregard all
Philosophies
Is just another form of our
Self-oppression.
****** tongues spill
Atrocities,
And we disguise it as some sort of
Self-expression.

Are we self-expressed
Or are we fraudulent?
I heard that honesty is
All we crave and yearn.

But that's not the case
Because the truth can hurt.
Just watch honesty hit its
Path and burn.

And with the cash we earn
And clean air we kiss,
You would think we all
Are kinda feeling blessed.

We have reckless flesh
And lack small regrets
Yet expect nothing less
Than restful deaths.

And with restful deaths,
We have veins of steel
That are only melted by
The coldest flames.

And like the bread of life,
We do not share a slice,
Even though the end ensures
We give back grains.

So I suppose we're selfish,
In a sense sometimes.
Say, simply
Sincerely
Sinister.

We're here on earth
As just visitors, all
Sealing life with
Cheap signatures.
Next page