Confessional Poetry - Hello Poetry

Feb 2020

Graff1980

This world isn’t much.
It’s actually pretty bad
and this population of
people make me so mad,

but every once in a while
I’ll find some art to make me smile,
and get me through
the rougher times.

There’s greed and corruption
corroding all I know,
like an acid that’s dripping
burning my throat.
So, all of this horror I see
is hard to swallow,
and sometimes it makes
it even harder to breathe,

but every once in a while
I’ll see some kindness
that makes me cry and smile.

This reality is way off key,
but I can still hear its discordant melody
singing so many strange verses
of inspiration into me,
makes me love more humanly,
bringing out the better parts
of my torn and tattered humanity
and maybe that is all I need
for now.

Feb 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 414

It is a sea
of insincere
smiles living here.

Shades of
shady intent,
false compliments
and hidden
under them
bitter lashes.

It is anxiety,
and a lifetime
of learning
that everyone
else maybe fine

but because
those I love
hurt me
I will never
trust easily.

Thus,
I reflect
on the pain
of a suspicious mind,

hoping that
my past’s
bitter heart
has lost
the painful edge,
and I can
make a new start.

Feb 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 413

I know
its time to go,
even though
I wish time
would slow.

I know
that seasons
change,
and summer’s
elations
will be
winter’s bane
as I recall
them
in the heat
of a cold fire
pain.

I know
that you are gone
bone thin
goblin
elderly
grandma,

and the guilt
I feel
is still
a very real
***** deal.

I know this
is a cheap verse
but I only got
a few minutes
to jot it down.

I guess that is just
the gist of all of this
amidst all I know
I am certain
I have lost a bit
of bliss
in aging.

So, now I know
I miss the past
and feel like
replaying
the memory footage
of old days,

But I know
that this is
lazy writing,
and I won’t
get back that way
anytime soon.

Feb 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 412

There may be
some grief
calling me
back to my
strange history.

Some inner aching
pulling the strings
of old memories.

With leaves that leave
a cold fall tree,
I see spring colors
transitioning
to summer shades,
then autumnal tints,
till they crumble
under my humble
feet, fading before
the coming winter wars.

Like sweet pets
who have passed,
like the few fallen
life companions,
and family members
who fell to embers
then to the smoking ash
of time’s eternal flame.

I am pulled back there
for just a second,
take stock and own
all those precious moments
I have known
recalling all that I can
with a nostalgic appreciation.

Then let it go,
if I am able to,
and move on.

Feb 2020

muteD

\ losing my mind /

I wish I could just make myself into the person you want me to be.
Even though for some reason you keep telling me to be myself.
What if you don’t like her?
What if I don’t like her?
Because the person I’ve known to be me,
I don’t like.
I don’t like how she looks.
I don’t like how she talks.
But, no one hears that.
It’s all in my mind.
If I want change, why don’t I change?
These days it really feels as though I am truly going insane.

Late night poem.. Probably will end up changing the title since I’m not a 100% on it. Any ideas? Comment.

#insane #losingmymind #muted #change #makeover #losing #mind #lost

Feb 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 407

This is an
ego boosting
brag poem,

made to dazzle
others and show’em
how clever I am.

Cause the depths
I swim in
leave other men
dribbling, drooling,
and drowning.

The waters dark
that I chart
still chill the
bravest hearts,

and the horizon
I rise in
like the phoenix,
though burnt
flies and fries
the clouded skies.

I see sullen fools
flee frightened
from the fiery light.
They despise me
for my wit
and geniality,
for the talents
I have nurtured
and the artistry
I have sired,

drawing universes
from the fires
in which
they smolder
and expire.

Feb 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 406

I don’t know how to hunt,
and I am less then adept at fishing.

I cannot fix mechanical stuff
but I’ve mastered the art of *******.

I got a gift for creating laughter.
I’m an awesome singer,
but a sub-par social actor.
I’m an ok artist,
and a masterful writer,
a decent observer,
of human behavior,
and an above average fighter.

So, if this is the end of the world
and you are looking for useful survivors,
I would not pick me first.
Even though, I can keep the mood lighter.

Feb 2020

muteD

Why do I even bother?

Please tell me why I even bother.
Why do I bother to scramble to find the words to express how I am feeling when all you are going to do is press Ignore?
I feel IGNORED.
Why do I bother to talk about the thoughts that run screaming through my mind when all you’re going to do is Interrupt?
You hate it but I hate it more.
Never being able to finish my sentence is the curse I’m destined to die with.
Never being understood is all I’m meant to be.
Invalid is all I am. Invalid is all I’m meant to be.

I’m just so tired. Tired of going through everything I have to go through.

#whydoibother #cursed #curse #invalid #interrupt #ignore #muted

Feb 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 405

We are just little vessels,
precious porcelain angels
or rounded rebel devils
driven by what is inside
and how it interacts
with our outer facts
or our minor perspectives
distorted by different aspects
of our faulty flesh perceiver,
that super stimulus receiver.

We are many ecosystems
not singular structures
but a collective composed of
cellular and atomic dimensions,
too many to calculate or to mention
that are beyond our comprehension.

Conscious and unconscious
neural highways
or the many limbs on a tree
that have no leaves
but branch out and leave
as we learn new things
whilst pruning unused circuitry.

Therein lay a space
where poets dream and play,
a multiplicity
of connected
and disconnected
multiverses.

So complicated.

Jan 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 404

I touch the pillow and breath in,
the waning scent of your leaving.
I whisper to the gray wisps of
crying clouds that are grieving.
I clutch the cross of mysteries,
the token you left for remembering,
the metal ornament that cut
scratches in our spiritual love,
refreshing each gaping wound
that you gave me.

Your eyes are like red wine
to a drowning alcoholic,
with lips and skin like ******
to this addled brained addict.

So, I put your portraits up
in my old musty attic.
I took down your paintings
cause the heart of the art
was always so paining.
I placed all of your clothes
in a black glad trash bag
in the back of my shed
where no one else goes;

So, the next time someone
comes looking for a door,
they won’t find any.
All the entrances to my heart
will be securely locked
and no one will get in there
anymore.

Jan 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 403

I’ve built my life
on a body of bruises,
on singing with
a cringing grin
and never letting
anyone in,
really.

I’ve done my time
with plastered smiles
that hide my shame
and mask a pain
I still can’t truly
give a name.

I’ve given mercy
to every person
except for two.
If you need it
I’d offer it to you
before I ever granted it
to the mirror man
or the motherly beast
who beat him down.

I’ve walked a lot
and ridden fast,
been driven hard,
Still, I can’t escape
what’s in my past.

But I could really
use a win right now.

Jan 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 402

The fear is that I will disappear,
and no one will even notice
that I am no longer here.

The concern is I can’t stop this
pointless
rhyming scheme,
which has become
sickening.

Between these two things
I know there is so much
that I am certainly missing.

Maybe the deeper fear is
in focusing on what is clearest
I am really missing a
whole world of connections.