Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I paddle as he talks
Of life, and the veil just behind it
The water plops as he plods,
On about the things humans never deserved
Saying we have no true structure, style, or word
All is annihilated by the Absurd
Yet with his nugget of knowledge in mine
I paddle on
A petty Ode to the brilliant Albert Camus
If I got a headache
every time someone wrote about natural beauty,
I'd have an aneurysm.

And now I have one more.
Headache.

I'm still waiting on the aneurysm.
this is a day of deception
so much fun
I am here
so you're going to let yourself die
so you're going to let yourself die
so you're going to let yourself die
sometimes
it's easy
1 dollar small fries.
i went through
every poem
about her
and made them
disappear

maybe now
it'll be easier
to feel better
to feel free

i have no more poems
about the good times
for the bad times
outweighed them

i feel freer
although i am sad
my most popular poem
is gone

it is for the best
i am freer
if you noticed my number of poems drop down randomly in the past two days, that is because i deleted all my poems about my manipulative ex
i was going to leave them up as a testament to our time together (unsurprisingly, a lot of those poems were actually quite negative). I am usually unafraid of the past but my poems about her made me cringe whenever I saw them. I deleted them to make me feel better.
I am locked in a Prison of Innocence.
The warden is kind,
The guards are stern.
The cell of stale straw candy.
My own home to yearn.

Stuck in the Lost Town of Resonance,
My feet are scarred and bare.
The shackles are soft.
But they burn if I stare.
I may never see the privileged loft.

How I got here is a story too long.
My crimes and my sins
Born from lonely heart song.
You know it.
We all sing it in the dark.

I am locked in the Prison of Innocence.
it shouldn't have gone this far.
Though imprisoned, I know they love me.
They'll tearfully let me leave.
This prison is all of ours.
...until proven...
I propose a toast
to you
a drink
from the top of your
delicate head
to the base of your
soulful feet

I found you
right in the center of the eye
the deluge of you
carried me higher clear across
the barren sky
as if we were supposed to
crash into each other

But
Only material
things get ugly aging
while we become this strange
phenomena wanton and as wild
as the naked wind upon
the thirst of our eagerĀ 
chapped lips
I grew my hair long, that's what you're suppose to do when your blonde
I am antispation gone wrong
I have a plan it is not glad, instead we get sad
Nothing sealing
Nothing concealed, we have a plan
I went cold, no one knows
Would you like more cries with, "do what you're told"
The night is blind and I'm unkind, let's makes one more feast,
I can pretend to be happy
Relax, there is no ending
Next page