Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Robert Watson Mar 2021
What fools are we,
To hold our tears back,
Letting dust and debris
Blind the heart, arid and cracked.
Robert Watson Mar 2021
Dizzy, dazed, and sedated,
Nightly rinse bleaching brains,
Slowly spinning me apart.
Roses flashing on screen, withered.

Worshiping at the Pantheon,
Novocaine for the brain.
My habitual easy friends.
Lust conquering love.

Lights go out!
Alone in the dark.
Guiltless shame,
I'll quit after tomorrow.
If you understand the poem, you'll understand the struggle that many deal with. I'm with you! Resistance is possible.
Robert Watson Mar 2021
Slumbering in my capacious tomb,
I dread the surrounding recesses.
I've carefully examined every room,
silence building into deafening excess.

A horrid intuition commands me now,
Something watches at the threshold.
Hours have passed without a sound,
But I'm no fool, silence, I withhold.

Feigning sleep, I bow my head,
allowing the stranger to approach my bed.
No longer a bugaboo, it draws its knife
springing forth like a cobra to take my life.

Snarling like a beast, I counter its jab
Horror marks its face as I ferociously grab,
Wrapping its head with my blanket,
I twist, and lay the beast to casket.

Every night I battle my beast
And never have I ceased
To terrify that familiar freak,
Haunting my subliminal sleep.
Inspired by "The Tell-Tale Heart," by Edgar Allan Poe.
Robert Watson Mar 2021
If we find something we are willing to die for, we truly live.

*Not a poem, nevertheless the birth of many.
I thought of this while writing a paper.
Robert Watson Jan 2021
Winter's livery,
Twisted tree twigs ghostly garbed,
*****, lusting Spring.
Observing the frost on the trees on my way to work, and I thought of this, enjoy.
Robert Watson Dec 2020
I have a tremendous fear
my memories will disappear.
Transient is our memory
In the sight of eternity.

A gentle breeze wafts away
my meaningful thoughts by day,
falling fast into the night.
Mind’s eye has lost its sight.

My sandcastles washed into the sea,
time again to return to industry.
I'd like to think my memories are held safe in my keep, but I fear the eventual decay or theft of my precious memories.
Robert Watson Dec 2020
Sow my heart into your soil,
surging, sultry crimson oil
melts away your rocky toils,
seething passion starts to boil.

Magma devours fertile ground,
hissing, screeching, horrid sounds.
Land claimed without bound.
The ****** island drowns.
The temple is a sacred entity. Lust is dangerous.
Next page