How do I write in a poem that I am
S C R E A M N G
How do I convey how f r u s t r a t e d I am
How do I get you to know how
o u i g
c n s n
my mind is right now
How do I explain my writings of a crumbling sanity as poetic licence
It becomes easy when nobody knows your how much of concealed life you really have
My mother can't worry, She doesn't have such terrible thoughts
The bullets I try to use just ricochet around my skull blending my memories, rattling my thoughts.
My personality has died with my will to live
As my heart kept losing over my brain,
I am rather more tempted to feign.
To act as if i do not feel much,
Though sometimes i long for your touch.
But be still, my dear.
Through time you'll finally hear.
For these words to which my lips are sealed,
Are feelings need not stay forever concealed.
© 2018 D.A. Barreras
Punctured are the lungs I've used for breathing
This seething ever-romantic feeling
The peeling of skin that reveals the concealed
And opens up the undying existence of the unseen
As my own existence is also undying and unseen
My mind and ego trying to convince me otherwise
This is my illusion
Intruding my mind and infecting it with disparity
And with no clarity of what is to come
I drown in fear that I will succumb
When all alone, true emotions become exposed;
the memories are no longer hiding within.
The pain and sorrow that are so often closed,
are brought to the surface usually concealed by the skin.
Smiles turn down with descending tears,
empty thoughts flow through your mind.
Goals and content have begun to disappear,
replaced with heartache so blind.
In time the light will amply return
and you can once again make it easily through your days.
Each heartbreak brings a new lesson to learn;
new emotions, new feelings, will start to make way.
So in a moment of weakness,
where it feels as though your heart is broken
Divulge your uniqueness;
to new opportunities your eyes will be open.
She is pyramidon spreads down the pyramid
Led by him up the pyramid that keeps climbing high.
Continues to straighten his straight line but her
curve off the top embraces full is an enduring spiral!
Off the apex of the pyramid the butterfly has slipped out
Still a circle still a cut whatsmore is concealed in the pi?
Future is in now, deathless in death only a pi away!
Enchanted by spring’s
... whistles swirl
in the pungent springtime breeze;
steeped with a bedazzling
to a hummingbird’s
waves of breath,
of little wings waft,
twining honeysuckle lattice
beset of hidden gold
precious speckled eggs,
silver lining of smallest hopes
fruits of fruition
continuum beheld prize,
concealed in interwoven rootlets;
potently perfumed flowers
the waning dark hours;
swollen full flower moon
sweetly-scented suckled nectar
the one with eyes of a child,
wonder ― hidden inside,
marvel in the light of grateful eyes
imbibing an unholdable moment's
... poetry alive
air so poignantly perfumed
by spring’s frolicking cadency
a reverent moment's
a sobering beauty that just is...
someone ... May 2017
recurrent moonlit distractions
captured by words
tied down into morsels;
separated and concealed,
contiguous yet sheer greetings
of each other’s skin
had left wanton burns
and gushing streams
of a brooding lover’s propensity
for unsusceptible matters of the heart.
there, he stood,
on the precipice of tomorrows;
ruminating and scrupulous,
forlorn yet never dithering
over mundane and quintessential quandaries
of the tepid gloss of incertitude
dangling off syllables
dictated by sordid agony.
there, he stood,
in the midst of everything;
from the otiose adoration
poured out of empty caskets
to the lenitive shades of his eyes.
with the ripples of moonlight,
the gestalt of doleful flower-like hearts,
there, she stood,
and waited some more.