#deviant
Listening to Leopold’s symphony
for two minutes,
I was bored.
My mind wondered.
I recalled the dramatic first chords
of Wolfgang’s symphony 41
how it awakened me
how I was hooked by his energy and zest.
Even though Leopold taught his son,
the fame of the impulsive and creative Amadeus spread
as he wrote and played
and captured the attention of the world.
I wonder what poor Leopold thought of his own work
in contrast to his prolific son
a son who seemingly created great music
from nothing
who freed himself from tired conventions.
A creator makes something from nothing
and I wonder if being lost in nothingness
as we poets sometimes are,
if letting go of the familiar
makes it easier to create.
Dec 2, 2021
Dec 2, 2021 at 12:09 PM UTC
His posture's poor, eyes alight
Disposition awkward, nobody can understand
trouble he stirs, he brings forth a fight
His glinting eyes scrutinizes the world, dull and bland.
Lightly he walks, as free as the wind
An air he can be, yet earthquakes he shall bring
His intentions are unknown, his presence enigmatic
His sentiments are mirrored by his sling.
That poor frustrated soul has always been alone
He's free, and yet he's on his own
But he shall live, yes, he shall be
Away from the society's eyes that cannot see.
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 3:09 PM UTC
His love is
My deviant poison
Spread across
Ocean of stars
Showering wicked desires
Of disobedient delusions
Dancing under the moon
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 4:40 AM UTC
I have secrets and lies I tell even myself
I strive to appear normal
For I am ashamed of my deviances
I resent that what I like could get me labeled a freak
Our limbs entwined as we cuddle and kiss
The clothes we wore strewn across several rooms
The heat radiating between us
My secrets burning a hole in my heart
But how can you know that I want more and I'm ashamed of those cravings
I haven't told you, I am afraid of being judged, abandoned, and mocked
How can I trust with how many times I've been burned before, I'm paranoid
Would you step out of your comfort zone for me
Would you stick by me, or would you be angry or disgusted or unsympathetic to my desires
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
Basically
I'm the
disease
your
poor heart
could not
pump,
process,
or purify
the
tasteless
something
in the water
waste drains
exit into your water
Put you in duress,
the deviant disaster,
the master depravity,
the agender **** toy,
smiling sodomite
offered only carnal
distress for your innocence,
trash for your
sacred naivete
(but I'm not wrong . am i // am i .)
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 4:07 AM UTC
Parking his car
By the gate of a hospital
A man got into a bar,
From an eye-shot
Not far!
After a thief unfastened
The 4 bolts of a tyre,
The sale of which
Helps him make his day,
Seeing the owner
Approaching,
With the four bolts
He ran away.
Stranded, the owner
Was forced there to stay
At a loss what to do
And say!
"If you take a bolt
A tyre from the
Remaining three,
With three bolts each
All the tyres will agree
To allow the car move free!"
Advised him a man tall
Who with patients'
Pajama sat
On the hospital's wall
Observing all.
Doing so
Thankful the driver
Managed home to go!
On the morrow,
Taken by surprise
He wanted
That mentally sick
To speak.
Going to the hospital
"Tell me pal
With such intuition
How come
You join this hospital?"
"My friend,
If you deviate
From the normal
You are abnormal,
It is the likes of you,
The mentally sick,
That stranded me here
a maverick!"
'
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 9:52 AM UTC
A green plant, a deviant to society.
But why so be. When the, so true to me.
Educate before hate, a medication people take for relaxation, a patient in the hospital of time.
Memories of the lies, and despair fill the air not only to realize, a seed of Mother Earth that can mask all of the dark sides and demise. Is not legal in the eyes of the big men.
So again I say, a deviant to society I hide to be, high the key, in the aid to my struggle, a deviant to society.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
Because thinking the way you do,
Makes you upsetting and you upset.
People can't handle you
And so you can't handle you.
So then you conform
To being the right kind of odd
And your deviant thoughts
Leave everyone else alone.
So no one notices
your thoughts ripping
At the seams of your life because
They're all having the same problem.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC