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butch-decatoriaPoems
Sunday poolside Prelude for tomorrow's Spring, It's first day, midway in March, Weeks away from the month of May. And I decide to cool my inner heat In the gurgling soup of the jacuzzi Whiles the unaccompanied tweens scream And play a made up game A hybrid of polo basketball and puberty... No clue how conversations start, But a friendless me talks and talks Unable to stop, even when they disperse... I talked to myself mostly, Or if they were listening, the ears that heard, Advice on life, trying to wake up the herd The void wears a teenager's face And in the sounds of summer This prelude day to Spring, Splashing and laughter and a toddler's cooing I observe my voice drifting Up and through the fence of steel bars Eroding, rust colored water On grey cement and murky turquiose... I talk and it feels like I'm under water Their attention span as transient As Vegas itself... I talk about myself honestly, I gave them real advice From the mistakes of friendless me, what it will take to succeed For a future they could care less about And Life! Must of talked about nothing Talked mostly to myself The day before spring, all heat and not much else, I felt something hollow then Recognizing Hell The void mimics reality well when was it I fell? *(Sensing greys in their shells... The rising heat... Midnights distant tolling... Trumpets and bells)*
0
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC
Spring @ Sin City
Sunday poolside Prelude for tomorrow's Spring, It's first day, midway in March, Weeks away from the month of May. And I decide to cool my inner heat In the gurgling soup of the jacuzzi Whiles the unaccompanied tweens scream And play a made up game A hybrid of polo basketball and puberty... No clue how conversations start, But a friendless me talks and talks Unable to stop, even when they disperse... I talked to myself mostly, Or if they were listening, the ears that heard, Advice on life, trying to wake up the herd The void wears a teenager's face And in the sounds of summer This prelude day to Spring, Splashing and laughter and a toddler's cooing I observe my voice drifting Up and through the fence of steel bars Eroding, rust colored water On grey cement and murky turquiose... I talk and it feels like I'm under water Their attention span as transient As Vegas itself... I talk about myself honestly, I gave them real advice From the mistakes of friendless me, what it will take to succeed For a future they could care less about And Life! Must of talked about nothing Talked mostly to myself The day before spring, all heat and not much else, I felt something hollow then Recognizing Hell The void mimics reality well when was it I fell? *(Sensing greys in their shells... The rising heat... Midnights distant tolling... Trumpets and bells)*
butch-decatoria
Written by
butch-decatoria
47/M
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC
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