#seekinganswers - Hello Poetry

Why do i feel so dangerous When i ask the simple why question Its hidden and tucked and pushed Just outside of my reach or should i say my mind I want to like the me inside But every glance of her She simply spits and spats In my direction I think she hates me I don't blame her But again i must ask The same **** question Why?

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Jul 27, 2017

Jul 27, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC

miss-me

The Haunting WHY

Why do i feel so dangerous When i ask the simple why question Its hidden and tucked and pushed Just outside of my reach or should i say my mind I want to like the me inside But every glance of her She simply spits and spats In my direction I think she hates me I don't blame her But again i must ask The same **** question Why?

13

My brain is still in prayer, Following an apology for the same sin about to be committed. Sort of like the reflections we see amongst ourself in other people. Pointing out only the things we see in ourselves. That sort of stand up comic that points fun of that one guy in the front row, never really taking in consideration that same guy could be waiting on him after the show. That cynical psychology of growing up with siblings. Would you think twice if you seen chickens standing out of a fast food place. The ethical influence of hunger dissipating as they Stand there patiently waiting for the unnext best thing. Love is relentlessly blind. A hunger that never really seems full. Are we the glutens chasing something without a face only knowing taste. Staring lovingly into each other's eyes but in actuality craving chicken. What suppresses this urge. Besides the hope that this Sprite isn't flat

0

Nov 26, 2016

Nov 26, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC

kewayne-wadley

Chicken And Sprite

My brain is still in prayer, Following an apology for the same sin about to be committed. Sort of like the reflections we see amongst ourself in other people. Pointing out only the things we see in ourselves. That sort of stand up comic that points fun of that one guy in the front row, never really taking in consideration that same guy could be waiting on him after the show. That cynical psychology of growing up with siblings. Would you think twice if you seen chickens standing out of a fast food place. The ethical influence of hunger dissipating as they Stand there patiently waiting for the unnext best thing. Love is relentlessly blind. A hunger that never really seems full. Are we the glutens chasing something without a face only knowing taste. Staring lovingly into each other's eyes but in actuality craving chicken. What suppresses this urge. Besides the hope that this Sprite isn't flat

15

it's 3:23 in the morning and I'm awake because my great great grandchildren won't let me sleep my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams what did you do while the planet was plundered? what did you do when the earth was unraveling? surely you did something when the seasons started failing? as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying? did you fill the streets with protest when democracy was stolen? what did you do once you knew? I'm riding home on the Colma train I've got the voice of the milky way in my dreams I have teams of scientists feeding me data daily and pleading I immediately turn it into poetry I want just this consciousness reached by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech I am the desirous earth equidistant to the underworld and the flesh of the stars I am everything already lost the moment the universe turns transparent and all the light shoots through the cosmos I use words to instigate silence I'm a hieroglyphic stairway in a buried Mayan city suddenly exposed by a hurricane a satellite circling earth finding dinosaur bones in the Gobi desert I am telescopes that see back in time I am the precession of the equinoxes, the magnetism of the spiraling sea I'm riding home on the Colma train with the voice of the milky way in my dreams I am myths where violets blossom from blood like dying and rising gods I'm the boundary of time soul encountering soul and tongues of fire it's 3:23 in the morning and I can't sleep because my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams what did you do while the earth was unraveling? I want just this consciousness reached by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech ©2003

0

Aug 25, 2015

Aug 25, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC

hrtsonfyr

Hieroglyphic Stairway by Drew Dellinger

it's 3:23 in the morning and I'm awake because my great great grandchildren won't let me sleep my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams what did you do while the planet was plundered? what did you do when the earth was unraveling? surely you did something when the seasons started failing? as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying? did you fill the streets with protest when democracy was stolen? what did you do once you knew? I'm riding home on the Colma train I've got the voice of the milky way in my dreams I have teams of scientists feeding me data daily and pleading I immediately turn it into poetry I want just this consciousness reached by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech I am the desirous earth equidistant to the underworld and the flesh of the stars I am everything already lost the moment the universe turns transparent and all the light shoots through the cosmos I use words to instigate silence I'm a hieroglyphic stairway in a buried Mayan city suddenly exposed by a hurricane a satellite circling earth finding dinosaur bones in the Gobi desert I am telescopes that see back in time I am the precession of the equinoxes, the magnetism of the spiraling sea I'm riding home on the Colma train with the voice of the milky way in my dreams I am myths where violets blossom from blood like dying and rising gods I'm the boundary of time soul encountering soul and tongues of fire it's 3:23 in the morning and I can't sleep because my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams what did you do while the earth was unraveling? I want just this consciousness reached by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech ©2003

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