"bannisters" poems
I am captivated by the pattern of a tiled staircase where fountain pens scribe forbidden texts upon spiral bannisters which lead to debased psychological states.
Do we have permission on this stage of trajectory, to fire statements into unfathomable corridors, which surpass today into the realms of tomorrow?
Dark figures writhe in the thick fog of eclectic séances.
I have engaged in nightly astral flights down the streets of blatant innocence.
Are you standing on the inside?
Bring me back from what is deemed to be modernity and bypass my voltage where uncertain predictability is a predictable uncertainty.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
.
Pain.
Like sliding down bannisters
made from razor blades.
Like bathing in rose bushes,
swimming in broken glass.
I bought an Emo lawn.
It cuts itself.
Because I'm too busy ...
... cutting Me.
© Pagan Paul (04/10/17)
Oct 6, 2017
Oct 6, 2017 at 7:55 PM UTC
Most shared nights start with blissful lies told to the doorman. You’re going to a fancy party; you’ll probably sit next to someone famous. Lean on perfectly polished bannisters down golden stairs.
Party dresses attend cocktail parties and you’re the tux. She rests her hand. Tails and all like a penguin. Don’t they mate for life?
Laughing down gum stuck pavement. Her heel caught in the sidewalk, fractured. But you got to carry her letting fingers find homes in the places she bends.
You told the doorman another lie.
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
Peace and prosperity paint the walls of this establishment
Walls, which are garnished by explicitly, intricately ornate designs
That flow from the doors to the bannisters
And frame the inner workings of its soul.
But more to the picture there is than the pretty images within the framing
Hidden beneath the green meant to be so calming
If you listen carefully-
SILENCE!
I mean very carefully
You will hear the quiet screaming.
The darkness that envelopes the world entirely
Has crept into the crevices of those ornate designs
All hell rages vehemently
while the workers paint it over religiously
that calming shade of green that whispers the illusion
"everything's fine".
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 12:43 PM UTC
Just one class today
out of mind, my cellphone holds
the day’s happenings
Thoughts and plans extend
into ellipses, like torn
cobwebs reaching for
incomplete parts in the wind.
Bannisters of pine
creeping as I walk below
stretch to meet the rain
Through university
I am becoming convinced
Genius can’t be trained
Oct 18, 2022
Oct 18, 2022 at 5:33 PM UTC
A pair of socks is all you gave to me
But i wore those socks forever
Wore those socks forever
I peered through the bannisters
I remember hearing talking
I remember hearing talking
How do they all fit inside
Secrets in the night sky
Secrets in the night sky
Candle in the corner of the room
It was filled with christmas quiet
Filled with christmas quiet
Wandering on a cold misty morning
I was wearing all the jumpers
Wearing all the jumpers
A pair of socks is all you gave to me
But i wore those socks forever
Wore those socks forever
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC