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Graff1980 Sep 2018
Time is
moments measured
by manmade devices.
Or is it?
Graff1980 Jan 2019
She is sacred,
but safe
from a distance.

I can admire
the form
I desire
and listen
to her stories
without risking
the sharp scythe
of rejection tonight.

I can share
the softened
version
of my
affections,
expose my
true self
and never fear
the loss of will
cause she is
a thousand miles away
and promised to another.
Graff1980 Jan 2019
Mirror mirror
on the wall
you make
my skin crawl;

Silvery ornate
outer edges
placed around
a pool of
serious reflection.

I face
the face
I long to erase,
slide my finger
along the cracks
that I made
in rage,
and let
the broken glass
scratch me back
as I streak it
with sloppy crimson lines.

Mirror mirror
on the wall
one more look
and I'll
make it fall
see my self
shattering to pieces
and hopefully
finally release this
sick beast
inside of me.
Graff1980 Jan 2019
Would you meet me
on the astral plain,
still a poor projection
of the soul and flesh we claim,
sharing only a fraction
of our radiant selves.

See several shades
of black, blue, and grey
knowing that we are showing
similar bruising pains.

Aware that we walked
through separate plains
of searing flames
to make to this place.

Would you meet me
in some spectral place
to truly communicate,
to see starlight  
shimmering in your
very being.

If we both believed
that on some
sweltering summer’s eve
we would finally greet
each other at
heaven’s gate
would you make a date
to sit around and wait.

There is no need to sit
cause I don’t buy
into that *******
but it is nice to daydream
about fantastic
people and things.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
I reserve the right
to observe the birds
at night
who perturbed
take flight
to find
a better place
to wait and play
safely living
their life
each proceeding
day.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
She sits stressing,
depression pressing
sharp silver metal
into her skin,

leaves adults stuttering
and wondering
what is so wrong with her,
while looking down with
disappointment.

How strangely that lately
they forget
how intense
it felt
when they were kids.

Its like intentional amnesia
as they try to numb
any primal passions,
dulling their once
delinquent delights,
quelling the yelling curiosity
in favor of
a less passionate
drunken love.

But she has not yet succumbed
to that humdrum
self-inflicted
emotional wound
that is draining
yellow liquid,
oozing
that which is
conflicted
that which
we should be using
to understand
everyone else.

Teenage heartaches
and high school drama,
friendships lost
or changed
drastically,
with all the pain
it leaves,
she is set in
an ocean of confusion.

So, at night she lays her face
in a salt wet pillow case
as she cries
herself to sleep,
instead of ending her week
at the bar down the street
like her parents do
just to get through
their working blues.

Watching videos
from youtube
and reading poetry books,
she still dreams of more,
uses her art to explore
hopes and dreams,
while her parents seem
to exist hopelessly.

When the silence comes
she sits disquieted
as dark thoughts
settle like sandy sediment,
then float up
like all that flotsam
from the wreckage
of her young
sea sailing heart.

Her parent don’t
have a clue
how much she is going through
and sometimes
she doesn’t believe
that they even try to.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Those broken bodies
are fractured forms
fallen from
the ravages of war.

Former friends
fermented in
the vinegar
of vile violence.

Their depravity depends
on the whims
of more wicked men
and women
who spend
lives like bitcoin.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Silver shade
bead wearing
barbie figure
mardi gra queen
makes me sing
all jazzy
till I am dizzy.

Short locks
smiling
flower wreath
falling down
around
and underneath
her feminine curves.

Two long drinks
sipped methodically
cause this is
definitely
serious business.

The music
bounces
as strangers
pass by
drunk and high.
She gives them
a predator smile.

A mysterious mask
holds back
the devilish
gleam
of dangerous things
because this woman
is the spider queen.

and if you are not careful
she will take a bite
out of you.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Your sorrow
speaks spells
of pain
into my being.

Worried heart
lead heavy
with a wooden levy
that is ready to break,
flood everywhere,
and take
all that you have.

Your anxiety
is a clouded
day dulled
by an ache
that takes
your breaths
and replaces them
with sobbing.

Heart throbbing
with insecurity
while I long
to leap in
like twenty-two
supermen
and save your days
with brave displays
of sincere caring.

Hundreds of miles,
too many moments away,
so I cannot rush
to your side,
hold you tight,
and envelope your pain
in my love,
smothering each stressful second
with the tenderest of affection.

All I have is my super ear
and powerful heart
to listen and hear
what you need to share
whilst whispering softly
“I am still here.”
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Twisting on a line of indecision
swept up in a breeze of emotion
little lilies dance
moving in swirling circles
like small yellow petal children.

Awaiting the winds lulls,
the breeze drops
their lover’s porcelain heart

They sink to sit and catch
the red glass figurine
saving it from the shattering
with their soft yellow bodies.

Little petals bruise themselves
to save the remnants
of the heart’s ability
to be open to the bounty
of future love.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
She is encased in a stone cold
hard snow
prison,
not unwilling
but unable to see
any reality
where life can be better
then the blank canvass
of agony and suffering.

Each day an unrelenting onslaught
of recurring nightmares
that point to a future
with very few
points of light
breaking through.

Razor sharp
scar tissue heart
that will not heal
properly;

She speaks poetically,
bends my heart
in empathy
edging me to tears
when she recites
the past prose
of her traumatized life.

No god,
no meaning,
no reason,
explaining
to loved ones
who cannot comprehend
that this busted up brain
will not find a way to mend,
nor make truths more comforting.

It is not selfish
because it does not seek this
in search of greed or gain,
just pushes on in hopes
of the cessation of pain.

I listen intently,
hear her honesty
whisper softly
that I am here
when you need me.

But her pain breaks me
sees stitches from similar
spirit cutting surgeries
splits my satin skin
as all my stuffing
spills out again.

I know those doubts
how the road goes on
for far too long
into the dullest days,

cement to concrete
cracked and gaping
causing a lot of vibrating,
taking all the serenity
I struggled to attain.

Dusk advances
into to darkness
and the phoenix fire
of light that inspires
other people
never rises
to her skies
never deigns
to brighten her life.

In love we see
better days ahead,
but in physical
and emotional fatigue
all she sees
is late night repeats,
reruns
of relationship
conspiracies
with misery
and misery
and misery.

I offer my love
hoping that
I am not intruding
where my feelings
are not welcome.

I offer her my love
hoping that
it does not hinder
her trust
and she opens up
as much
as she needs to.

I give her my ear
and hope
that my voices
is enough
to lure her away
from the ledge
just one more day,
then one more day,
then one more day.
Graff1980 Oct 2018
We cannot time travel.

We cannot unravel
time’s cruel arrow.

We cannot fly
like a sparrow
returning
from whence we came
revisiting old places
that only lay
in our memory.

We cannot replay
the day in any real way,

and by we
I really mean me
because I cannot
go back to see
deceased family
or just steal one precious moment
from my childhood.

I cannot
look at my baby brother
when he was little,
then hug and squeeze him.

All I can do
is remind him
presently
that he
is a treasure to me.
Graff1980 Sep 2018
What do we learn
when the knowledge
is turned
to scraps and ashes?

When the past is
less than prologue
cause everyone
was encouraged
to forget all
but the bright
moment,

pleasures pursued,
seconds wasted
being used
as a consumer,
as another tumor
so ingrown
that it can’t be removed.

Rush, play,
point, click,
sleep, eat,
work your life away,

and if you are unhappy
or to tired to do your job
if you feel
slightly unwell,
well we got a pill
to push all that
anxiety
away from humanity.

Until, the still pond
no longer reflects
the wonder and awe
of the artists
we once were.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Tiny dots,
little moving
people;

They only stop
when it is
their time
to drop dead.

Not set in stone,
not gonna
finally go home,
just becoming dust.

I touch the dirt
let the earth
run through
my fingers
and down to
the ground.

I know that
this stuff
was once
star dust,
as was I,
that every particle
that plays a part
in my being
was once the heart
of some cosmic furnace
burning, exploding
and finally coming
down here
to become me.

Isn’t that neat.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
I find your sin
deeply embedded in
soft silk stiches that you threaded,
the dark dyed lines you used
to imbue your touch
with more than the magic of
love and lust,
attaching me to the dangerous
state of us.

A practiced deceptionist you are,
spinning illusions with your webs of words,

oh deceiver, oh wicked liar
I bind your mouth with twine and wire
to trap your voice inside your mind
but still become ******* in your webbing.

Tenuously tangled and mangled,
I manage to unthread from you
to find a new avenue to the truth,
but just as I am about to unwind
I find I am inclined to stay entwined
with the very vines I used to bind you
because I am not ready to lose
the one who misled my lately leaded heart.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
The chorus
will ignore us.
The choir
does not inspire
only praises
the holy figures
it raises
from the dead.

These flapping feathers
of holy white
that flutter up
into the night sky
carrying those
who were born
to die;

They only do well
in our fictional hell.
They only excel
when our ignorance swells
as fools falter
at the mouth of the cave
where all other innocents dwell,
waiting to be saved
by the heroes we made;

But it has been years
since I lived that way,
walking away from the shade
those incredulous leaders made.

It is lonely to seek reality
when everyone else
is ok with an ancient fantasy.

So, I pack my knapsack
hit the railroad tracks
and head back in to the black
where all traveler eventually go
cause as far as I know
there is no Heavenly place
waiting for me at the end
of this waste of space
we call the human race.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
It is the face of a wraith,    
skin sagging,
flesh falling,
goosebumps crawling
with supernatural
sorrow and fatigue.

Bone thin,
Sobbing,
ancient pains
rising
from some
inner lining
of desperate
darkness.

Living corpse
in constant pain,
choppy movements
of echoed intent,
only a shadow
of the former
person.

Drawn in
an anorexic
frame
this specter
reigns
where once
a full bodied
figure
danced
in joy.

Nervous glances
fearing
they might catch this
emotional leprosy.
Society let her be,
slowly rotting
from the inside out.
Till she was hollowed.
Till even razor blades
could not scrape away
the suffering stain
and pain
of a relentless
existence.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Time takes
this pain
and replaces
it with an anger
that maims,
a mood that blames
you
for the weird thing you do.

Never been
more than friends,
but I was hoping
you would dump
those violent
cheating men.

You spent hours
telling me
all about their
cruelty.
How they make you
wonder why
you attract
those kind of guys,
the ones who lie
and lay hands on you.

Meanwhile,
I stop by
when you call me.
When I hear you cry
I play the nice guy
comfort and cradle
the cracked heart,
till you are able
to walk yourself
right on to the next
abusive ex.

Each time
I find my mind
darkened by
thoughts of
self-hate
wondering how bad
I must be
for you to see
sociopathic
sexist
violent men
as a better and
more attractive
alternative then me.

So, I try to move on
until you come along,
say that you miss me
ask me to go to the movies,
and I just jump
right back in.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Thirty something and I'm
living it up,
got a fat belly
with pink fluff
cause I'm a Jigglypuff,
playing hard like
its Pokemon go,
but the fact is
I never practice
and I don't even
like that show.

I was better in my twenties
had the moves like
Crocodile Dundee.
Even so
I never made it
in the movies.
I wasn’t as funny,
and I’ve never been
very thin
or stunning.

Maybe I should go back
to my teen years
back when freshmen
called me their senior
but those were the days
with the most tears.

In truth
there’s no reason to
entertain
going back to
my youth
cause now is better
then it ever was.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
The night is lonely
stinging me
with all of its
silent beauty.

Seems like
the stars are
predators
stalking me
in this city,
this savanna of
stone and concrete.

I look at
all these
little beasts,
scrambling mammals
who are stressing,
dressing
anxiously,
trying to impress
all those
other oppressed
consumers.

I look at
the glimmering pond
then on
to the whining blond
who is carrying on
like a spoiled diva
ruining my once pleasant
silent evening.

I listen to
the rustle of
shuffling leaves
on those
old oak trees.
I stand quietly
in deep shadows
and listen to
the sounds
that you forgot.

Night birds chirping,
skittering squirrels,
dogs barking,
almost drowned out
by the loud cars honking
parking right up on the curb.

Then it hit,
silver point
bombastic
metal
piercing
my back
till I faded to black.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
I serve no master
other than my desire
to be better
then the last *******
that bashed her
heart into a
steel plated
silver painted
**** spike
of violence
and spite.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Do not use a coffin
to bury me;
Black and bruised,
torn up, cracked ribs,
busted jaw, broken hips,
****** lips,
with seizure fits
cause this fool
felt love
cause this tool
let himself get used;
Should’ve gotten *****
cause that's a better hang over
then when you
get the never been blues.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
The wooden step
is rotten wet,
ready to crack,
and drop me flat.

Still, I try
to rise
and follow
a feminine
form.

Desire
inspires
me to
aspire to
something
better,

while she plays
and lays
with all
of those
bad boys
in ***** clothes.

One little sentence
one swift text,
one foot up
onto the next
rotten step,
and I fall
farther down.
  
I try
to be
better then
the current me,
but I am still
the back burner
boy toy.

Is this love
Or an obsession
that takes possession
of my peaceful disposition
leaving me *******
and heart broken?
Graff1980 Oct 2018
These marvelous mystics
work word magic,
in the realm of poetics.

Waves of sounds penetrate
the mental barriers
my peers have made.

They speak with silver spades,
digging up the beauty and wisdom,
bending, and breaking the light with
the weird wonder of their syllable prisms.

They crack the mental prisons
that embiggen
the cash flow of sexists and bigots.
They expose the spigot
that spews *******,
with chunks and bits
of acid spit and ****.

They turn the darkness
into lighted corners,
take the depression
and hopelessness
that was all consuming
and present you
with a new view.

They assimilate and share
information and inspiration.
With similes and metaphors,
they explore
all avenues to truth.
Though they soar
too close to the sun
they still manage
to bring back that blazing beauty
before their wax wings melt
and they sink into
the history of
salt water words.
Graff1980 Sep 2018
Some songs will make you cry,
some verses will make you wonder why
it feels as though no time has passed.

Some lyrics will make you think
spend your time perplexed
as you obsess over the talents
that other artists possess.

Some painting will
force you
to alter your view
as you turn your head
sideways,
to the left
and at an awkward angle
to the right,
even upside down,
in a curious query.

Some works of art
will stir a hardened heart
to actions
of minor and major compassion.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Feast or famine,
if we examine
nature’s pursuit
of balance,

we will see
all extremes
try to find
their faithful counter;

Like a crazy climate
that tries to
adjust to
current carbon caused extremes
by creating a new standard
of homeostasis,

like when animals
over populate
till their general populace
is pushed back on
by environmental restraints,
such as resource scarcity.

If you observe
you will see
pressure
will cause other species
population
inflation
to fall back down to
a more reasonable
figure.

However, we
human beings
have moved beyond
the environment’s ability
to steady our fertility.

Resources scarcity
can be managed by
emerging technology.
So, the limited environmental capacity
to sustain our human society
becomes more of a suggestion
then all of the previous pressures
that once pushed us back
for the sake of harmony.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Can’t fly high enough,
can’t lift you up
to save you
from all of
the bad stuff.

Can’t slip into
your dreams
to comfort you
no matter
how much
I want to.

I’m not a super hero
so, I can’t
run super-fast
past the sound barrier
to get to where
you lie in despair.

Can’t cradle your face
and gently wipe away
the tears that
touch your grace.

Can’t change the pain
your feeling
into to some thing
less reeling
and more exciting
in a pleasant way.

Can’t kiss the lips
that spill such wit
calming the waking dread
that stirs in your anxious head.

But I can split my heart
into an unseemly mess
when you confess
all of your sorrow.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
You laugh and you play
pay to drink and get laid,
sit in church pews to pray,
then go out the next day
to sin again, sinking in
dry crusted skin,
drunk and dehydrating.

You think you are cute
but you act like a fool.
You think that your smart,
but all I see is a rusted tool.

You pick up a bad boy
then commit to his abuse
and defend him again and again
after all of the beatings,
say I don’t understand,
proclaim to your friends
“I know he is a good man.”

Tears scratch the surface
of your pain and confusion,
feel like he’s been using
but you only see that
after the he leaves you,
no shows, no calls back,
no texts, so no more illusions.

Then you cry why,
and no one has the heart
to point to the part
that you played
in this play
that you perform on repeat;

This time, the last time,
and the next time around
you ball why me
then disagree
with the truths other see
when they tried to warn you
up front.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
It is just a memory,
like a small swell
of water from a spring,

Or the green
water pump
pumping
water
into
my light green
plant watering
plastic thing
whose name
I can’t recall.

Or the wooden bench
also painted green,
chips slowly
falling
down onto
the green grass
below.

Or the soft brown
mound of ground
I found
as I ran my
bare feet
swiftly
across the wet dirt
letting little blades
of moist grass
tickle my soles.

Or the brown
trees that let me
lumber up
clumsily
like a loopy ninja.

Like the sea shore
the water recedes before
the swell of memories
overwhelm me.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
Better to butter up
that butternut
burnt out building
leaving you feeling
the loss of
previous employment.

She’s bitter because
the ones she loves
are struggling
and after fifteen years
of working for
that bread store
they don’t have
work for her anymore.

So, she’s broke
and looking
for someone
who will hire
an old lady
cause living ain’t free
in a capitalistic society
and she has to eat
she could really use some bread.

Instead, she gets to stress
as she undresses
to go to bed
she gets to apply
for unemployment.
Graff1980 Feb 2019
She was darkness,
magical princess
of ecstatic pains.

Queen of wishes,
lips bruised
with the brush
of lust,
and the power
to pull from
all of us
the very veins
that worked
webs from
within
our supple skin.

Tantalizing terror
goddess Arachne
who spun her web
to entrap thee,
the enraptured
rotting zombie.

Poison on her lip
with nine inch
finger nails
that scratched
the flesh
of innocent men
and sent them
straight to hell.

Hazel eyes
with specks of blue
swimming around
her dark irises.

Like black holes
surrounded by
cosmic gasses,
and like those holes
she swallowed
lost souls
who dared to
venture near.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
Here is a secret,
To those who are close
and think that
they know me.
they don't.

It is a shade that they see
partial reflection
distorted version of me.

I am more than
you realize
and less then
you know,

cause when you are certain
I am certain your wrong
and when I am right
you say the words
I share don't belong.

Academic
intellect
artist of
endless depths,
passionate
and
depressed
by all of your
callousness
and lack of
curiosity.

I am luminescence
in the form of excellence
self-celebrant,
brilliant,
creative,
compassionate
and­ a consummate
gentleman,
mostly,
constantly learning,
growing,
and changing
with the integration
of next generation
information.

That is my secret
those who are close
and think they know me
don't really.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
Everyday
I see
bits of me
slip away,

sincere parts
of my heart
chipped away
with heart ache’s rain,
they disintegrate
under the pressure of pain
and the pleasure I pursue
to try and stay amused.

The price I pay
to make it
with a little
extra to spend
at the end
of the workday
is the slow erosion
of the person I was,
and who I am becoming
is a mystery
even to me.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
It’s the first poem
of a brand-new year,
day one
verbal contagion,
ready to spread
this syllable plague.

Three hundred
and sixty-five
more days to
try and survive
two thousand
nineteen.

So, this should be
something written
spectacularly.
Not a new years
resolution
but a declaration
to the creative nation
of something
much improved
then the poets
that they viewed
all last year.

This is the first
poem of the
new year.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
I’m just a speck
in my mother’s eye.

I’m barely born
but bred to die.

I’m a child crying
in the night.

I’m a teenager
seeking self-delights.

I’m a grown up
with no kids of my own.

I’m old lonely man
in a nursing home.

I’m dusty corpse
that waits to rot.

I’m something that
everyone else forgot.
Graff1980 Oct 2018
The music makes me
want to move freely,
bouncing in my seat
as I continue driving.

I sit smiling and singing
while strangers
might stare at me,
leaning oddly,
confused about how
happy I could be
to be driving
down a congested
city street.

This is not fiction,
cause my boss caught me
bobbing playfully,
he thought it was funny
that I was playing
so gleefully
while driving.

It is just this short life
requires that I smile or die,
that I force fun to come
instead having me run from
the horrors that hound me.

So, I when the mood hits,
I move and shift
in my car seat,
and dance stupidly
to the music’s beat.
Graff1980 Sep 2018
Short showers
of warm
summer storms,

red flowers
painted on
gray sidewalk,

pastels that melt
and run away
in thin crimson
streams,

ivory keys,
soft melodies
growing
and flowing
slowly,

see me safely
to dreams
that elevate me.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
Old one-eyed jack,
old all father
dressed in
****** black,
walking down
a windy path
while Fenris
nibbles on his chains
and the Midgard serpent
goes on searching
the tree of life
for something
like an apple
to sink his fangs
into.

Slipperier than
all his other
trickster friends
Loki
doesn’t make amends
just contends
with puckish trends
acting like a nave,
a slave
to playful
impulses.

And all those
Asier,
Asgardian,
Norsemen,
Reapers
valiant Valkyrie,
well I would concede
gratefully
going to the halls
to drinks some mead
but I am not a warrior
just a very bad bard.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
You come in
crying,
giving me
a compunction
to punch him
in an
unpleasant part
that might
stop his
violent heart.

He comes in
all justifying
your crying
says he
didn’t do
what you claimed,
I still want to
******* maim
that *** hat.

The next day
you come back,
tell me
he is not that bad.
You walk away with
the man you claimed
was a big ****
with a small *****.

I walk away
confused as hell.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
He wakes up
takes a cup
of coffee
maybe
two cups
then hits
the road
for the styx.

Body bent over
from the load
he’s been carrying,
wheels rolling
taking him
to nowhere.

Stress is eating
ulcers into
the inner lining
of his stomach.

Anxiety is
a vibrating blade
that slowly takes
one chunk
at a time.

Go to work,
pay the bills,
fix dinner,
with intermittent
moment
of sleep
spaced sparsely
somewhere
in-between
nine pm
and a
very early morning.

Then on to
a long over due
death vacation.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
My knees are sore,
but the week before
brought the horrors
of a civil war
down upon
their poor
village.

Had to take
my car to the shop,
she had to find
a clean cloth
to stop
the blood
that will not clot.

I got a broken tooth,
but the little child
wears bullet holes
past the thin layers
of his ragged cloths

Over ate
when I am trying
to lose weight.
It would be nice
if the last time
they ate
was yesterday.

I’m getting old
her family is
getting cold
sitting in a hole
where death reigns
and pain stains
the hearts of
those they loved
who managed to escape.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
There is a fresh hole
on the threshold
of our property,
a perfectly
proper spot
where they
buried me.

Safe distance
from the old quarry,
so my corpse
doesn’t have to worry
about being
disfigured
by the bigger
mess.

What a figure
I make,
flaccid
and undressed
before death.

Nothing there that
would impress
strangers,
other then
the danger
of smelling
my rotting flesh.

So, I am safely stowed
in a small hole
in the property
that I owned
while my killers
ransack my home
in the middle of the night.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
We soft fingers
linger
on the locked
door
laid before
the world
we abhor,

wooden rot
ready to be open
so, we can explore
the radiant wonders
that lay
in the day
on the other side
of this dark night
life.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
Shop online now
to buy
all of these
interesting
little things,

Like portable
gaming devices
to distract you
from the sad view
of other who
are hurting,

Like t-shirts
that barely fit you
but look cool
and advertise
for your favorite
brand,

Like lite
wireless earbuds
so you can’t
hear us
when we yell
please,

The internet sale
is better because
you don’t even
have to leave your house,
you don’t have to
go to a store
and see anyone
anymore.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
I live in a world
of flowers falling on
the feces that
fertilizes our lawns.

A world where
the disgusting bares
the most beautiful fruit.

Where children bloom
in the battle wreckage
of the cement and metal
that spirals
out of control.

Where the abused
take the violence
and find a better use
for their anger, and blues.

Like seed pods pulled
from a crushed rose,
these little artists grow,
and show
a different side
of our shared
human life.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
Little explorers
observe the world,

Little experimenters,
master transformers;

Little lab workers
cause they are so curious;

Until,
full grown men
and women
become
little teachers
ready to unveil
the real and unreal
to help us navigate
past the hate
that fools make.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
How much mayhem
can a madman
make in
eight great
lonely days?

Can he
at the behest
of his eclectic intent
find a way to
circumvent
the abominable
paradigms
of malevolent minds?

What does is take
when he pulls up
all those old stakes
and tries to make
something that
never was
better because
the alternative
is a slow
mental death?
Graff1980 Oct 2018
Dead flesh
falls fast,
like statues of ash
which drop
after that
horrible flash.

Black shadows
of negative space
paint the sidewalk
in that nightmare place.

I can see the shaded form
of former children
who once ran and played.
Now all that remains
is charcoal dust
and pictures that must
bear witness to
the loss of human innocence.

Atomic madness,
mushroom clouds
made this
tragic story,
leaving sick clouds
to cough up
nuclear poison
on another batch of
innocent children.
Graff1980 Sep 2018
Time
consumes
every bit;

Seconds sent
to poetry,
a life spent
cultivating
my humanity,
to see it
slowly recede,
values exchanged
for the pleasures
I gained.

My morality
is a tiny treasure,
a golden globe
glowing
against
the deepest
dark.

Surrounded
by the absurdity
of humanity’s
ignorance
and cruelty
all the tints
and hues of me
melt away
like snow
on a spring day.

All emotions
fade to numbness,
all goodness
goes into
nothingness.
Till, I am no more.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
It was a small
white plastered walled
room
where I sat alone
studying French
before the bell
would sound
and send me home.

Cracked bits of plaster fell
turning to smoke
as they hit the floor
making a thin white mist
of dirt that exposed
a hidden figure.

A silk specter,
she moved through the air
as if gravity
wasn’t even there.
A beautiful swirling
nightmare
swimming in
this stale atmosphere

Dangerous hands
that could caress gently
or strangle menacingly.

Better than the bitter
poltergeists
that haunted
Hollywood screens,
cause she was
far more fascinating.

Undefined
mistress of
lost minds,
who lost time
trying to find
some sort of meaning.

I watched her
confused
and amazed
at the sight displayed
as she played
in some sort of
ethereal realm
allowing me
to see.
all of her
abstract majesty,
but just as quickly
she evaporated.

I do not think
anyone will believe
this strange story
so, I made it in to poetry.

Hopefully
she will come back
and haunt me
some day in the future.
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