interrupts a stroll down the memory lane
linear meta brain
meticulously performing the act of
now, lesser in terms of quantitative hints
the never ending path
that circumvents the colourless
it contravenes the limitless scenes of a liberating regime
trust plummets into the hands of perceptive fiends
taken instead of countless numbered pills
a train of exaggerated kin
tracks back to those with highly assumed authorities
amidst the group of avid anti-socials
vividly varied in opinions
from a sword to a pin
essentially assembled to speak against the ancient ones
a neoteric synchronization
scaling screaming lexemes
the scathed silk screeches
soaked in acid
flamed till the ashes can be smelled
but never seen
seemingly insignificant statements
covert and pristine
so in this lockdown perdiod....i've got a lot of time to brood...a lot of time to think about where i', headed....well that's the glass-half-full version of it...
i somehow induced a writer's block ....which is quite weird because i dont really consider myself as a proper writer...im just here to rant...i guess i am even having a difficulty in finding the right words to say...it's a chaos ...it's like a swarm of at least a million words soar through my mind when im about to put my chords to the work....i guess i'll write my way through it.
You are a series of red flashing fabrics and I am a Matador thrusting myself into you over and over and over again
I know it is nothing but pain and embarrassment and yet it’s so natural to me to proceed with these actions
You are a red flag I can spot from a mile away glistening your sequins in my face and I cannot stop but ram my face into yours
I know you bring me no satisfaction and I know I will never win against you in these battles and yet it’s so natural for me to hurt myself for you
Matador of heartbreak never stood a chance
This ****** organism
Flowing with Lyricism
Endowed with Witticism
Maybe lacking in rhythm...
But not in favouritism
Look under the skin
Why the schism
What is the division
Wait... did I just become the villain?
Is there ever any need for judgemental comparison?
You said that you were quiet
Because you were really tired
But I don't really buy it anymore
He told me that he's quiet
Captivated by my smile
I said baby now that's more like it
Why do I compare myself
to a love you'll always love?
When you clearly whisper
her name, in my presence
when I'm asleep
Poets constantly compare
saying “this” is like “that”
If there’s anything I learned from comparison
It’s how it can **** you slowly as a poison of expectancy.
So, to put it simply,
You are not like anything else.
There is no comparison to you,
Because you are you and nothing else I could ever describe can come close to you.
I dunno I’m on my way to a forensics meet and I’m in the poetry category. Hope it goes well
Some write from their heart
Others bare their soul
Some write for the art
Others to feel whole
Some write to inform
Others to get a laugh
Some write as a platform
Others to land a gaff
Some write to rant and lobby
Others to find peace
Some write as a hobby
Others in search of a masterpiece
They each have merit
But with every sort of objective
They just want to share it
With us, the HP collective
Stars are just like us,
they implode without warning,
leaving a debris field
to ride roughshod over.
It is quite a performance,
so they post a sign
and sell tickets,
just to keep it legal.
Stars, they're just like us,
they like it on top,
but often survive
They whistle while they work,
clawing at the walls
of a coal mine,
hoping for a little snow white.
Holding fast before the lights
go down, leaving them lonesome
with credit card debit
and video on demand.
"Fame doesn't fulfill you. It warms you a bit, but that warmth is temporary." - Marilyn Monroe