Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
john-vdPoems
A bunch of people ****** up people Like, the in-the-head Kind of ****** up Anyway, they're just standing there Looking at each other And at the ground Left, right, up and down Then the music starts And starts to blare Louder and louder "It's a sin." The crowd begins to sway Not gradually though They just slam into life Arms swinging and legs kicking The zombies have become animate The loonies suddenly decide, simultaneously, to let their individual freak flags fly And you're in the middle of it Physically stunted and slowed but mentally... all there You lift your right leg Place it in front of your left The loonies/freaks/zombies continue their ritualistic, devilish, mindless movements And there you are, too slow to even make it out of that jungle, brimming with madness Finally, after 10 minutes or so You make it to a chair, located on the edge of the makeshift dancefloor You sit down, the metal like a brutal breeze to your warm behind You sit down, and you look up at the ceiling The music still flairs and the singer wails the same words "It's a sin" A lonely tear rolls down your cheek And you know it's true
0
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
A Scene from a Mental Ward, Starring the Only Sane Person There
A bunch of people ****** up people Like, the in-the-head Kind of ****** up Anyway, they're just standing there Looking at each other And at the ground Left, right, up and down Then the music starts And starts to blare Louder and louder "It's a sin." The crowd begins to sway Not gradually though They just slam into life Arms swinging and legs kicking The zombies have become animate The loonies suddenly decide, simultaneously, to let their individual freak flags fly And you're in the middle of it Physically stunted and slowed but mentally... all there You lift your right leg Place it in front of your left The loonies/freaks/zombies continue their ritualistic, devilish, mindless movements And there you are, too slow to even make it out of that jungle, brimming with madness Finally, after 10 minutes or so You make it to a chair, located on the edge of the makeshift dancefloor You sit down, the metal like a brutal breeze to your warm behind You sit down, and you look up at the ceiling The music still flairs and the singer wails the same words "It's a sin" A lonely tear rolls down your cheek And you know it's true
john-vd
Written by
john-vd
28/M/American
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem