"clawless" poems
‘t was nice till now.
I’d be a sad fool to complain.
There are others that deal with
much more **** then I can ever imagine.
There are happy homeless chums
that don’t give a **** about sadness but, unfortunately,
their madness is voiceless
and, sadly, our ears get numb after 3-4 minutes of elevator music.
It was cool and everything but now it seems that you’re only
showing the back of your head, as you’re kneeling down in front
of everybody.
No spine. No dime. No nothing.
Death lies hidden in your breast pocket,
just waiting to bite your hand or that of your loved ones,
in a blink of a blind eye.
My inner black dog chased away the black and white cats
and all that jazz is just not enough for
a healthy restart of the brain membrane.
Get closer and hear me out.
I’m speaking through my heart – this yellow bellow fella’s almost done.
I’ll whisper and you’ll understand my stubbornness,
like an unlit candle in the wind,
like a simple quiet rocket/piano man,
like the unlikely event of crashing in a brick wall.
‘t was nice.
All the dreaming
and drinking
and smiling
and crying
and cringing inside my head.
Oooooooh, what a match!
The crowd goes wild and that’s so unlike them to do – clawless, fangless, white tigers.
You might not recognize this day as being amazing and wonderful and all,
but trust me when I say that you’re in a blind spot right now and
as soon as it will be over, you’ll see it.
You’ll understand.
Those were not drops of desperation but exquisite fine wine left unattended.
Hear the echo inside this caveman’s body.
Look in this broken mirror and admit that you cannot see the eyes.
This generation of morons will stay put and eat macarons all day long.
It’s just a burning house, as Robin nicely put it in his song.
There is still hope for this silly antelope.
There is time for the timeless universe that we live in.
You’ll eventually get tired of seeing everything backwards,
of going against the stream, like a red herring in a Quentin T. dark alley.
You’ll get tired and admit that
you’re the ******* queen of everything wrong in this world.
Stop complaining.
Get over it.
For now.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 7:58 AM UTC
waking up is always the same
one lonely body
in her garden of graves
my heat is just that
my heat
my dreams are still mine
just because you haunt them -
a reminder to dread nothing
no toothless lion
clawless beast
I'll fly from your split
jolts, I never come back from
I don't believe in reach
not unless I am shown stretching
arms do not speak
but they release
it's been done
& done & done to me
freed, "you are safer like this"
loveless lips, the only ones I see
& feeding from the tips of a liar's teeth
fed until I depended on it
then thrown into a gust
I'll fly far away from you;
& hopefully soon
when enough is e n o u g h
my instincts will kick in
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Maybe the cold-hardened truth is;
you're cold hearted and ruthless.
Like a child, you're toothless
and clawless.
You are flawless.
You are wild.
Did I say "flawless"?
I meant "lawless".
The "f" is silent like all
the times you eye-fucked me.
But I'll admit now that I ****** me.
Now, I'm awesomely awe-less.
I stare outside where it's wet,
like the way you say I make you.
Drops landing, soaking trembling grass.
We're dangerous and moral-less,
and I wonder if I make your
body feel anything anymore, or less.
- @NoMortalDreams -
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 10:26 PM UTC
must have been
the bath water
us kids
we're drinking
back then
or
maybe they
poisoned
the wishing well
long
before
we
we're even born
or
maybe this is something we are simply plagued with
forced to walk around
on
splintering tooth picks
for bones
stilts
built
for tip toeing around problems
and
navigating through
dips and turns
and
this is what we were born into
this is the way we were raised
this is the way we are bred to be
sophiscated skin suits
walking-talking-dolls
filling our parents shoes before us
just another number
just another melting face in the dim lit city streets
but i can't help feeling like a
rabid animal
in a suit
a
Clawless tiger in a cage
the
anxiety running rampant in my veins
every time
I have to sit here and listen to the hum of the phone
or the daily gossip about who ****** who
there is a disease inside me
must be
like a bird hitting against a slider door
a repetition you can't get out
of your
skull
as much as you
try peeling away
at the
parts of you
that are fraying
and coming undone
when the night comes
and everyone goes home at night
you end up laying in
your
bed
praying for another day
of this
but why?
and
how?
do
i break the cycle
before the cycle
breaks me
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 2:55 AM UTC
I am the maneless lion among the pride
The white horse among the herd
The black swan among the flight
The hornless ram among the flock
The flightless bee among the hive
The clawless kitten among the litter
Yes, I am different
But that's what truly makes me a wonder
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 3:07 AM UTC