"neuro" poems
I'm looking deep into her eyes
*Looking into her eyes...
is like opening a door that leads...
to another door*
Wait..really? OK...I open the door.
*This door leads to a long, winding path,
like the winding path of your love.
The path leads to a third door*
O...K. I open the door.
*This door leads to a spiral staircase
descending down, down, down, deep
into her soul.
At the bottom of the staircase is--*
A door?
A door.
I open the door
The door is locked. The key might be under the mat
Seriously? I check under the mat
Nope, not there. Maybe try under the small rock next to the door
Oh for the love of...I check the rock
There is a key
Wonderful...I unlock and open the door
*Inside this door is a large atrium
the glass ceiling giving way to a
beautiful summer night, the stars
twinkling in the distance. At the
far end of the Atrium, there is a curtain*
Sigh I pull aside the curtain
There is a door
Come on! I open the ruddy door.
*You find yourself in a long hallway,
with fine art hanging along the walls.
Crimson carpet lines the floor.
At the end of the hall is a door locked
with a combination biometric
fingerprint scanner/retinal scanner*
What.
*You have 10 seconds to unlock the door
before the hunter-bots de-atomize you*
What!? Ok! I try my fingerprints and eye!
*The door unlocks and the hunter-bots stand down.
In the next room are three vials. Two of them contain
terrible neuro-toxins that will lead to an excruciatingly
painful death. The third will allow you to continue on
to the next room. You have 30 seconds to choose before
you are terminated*
What the hell is this!?
This is the path to true love hidden deep in her eyes
No, this is insanity!
15 seconds
OK! Geez! Umm..Vial Number 2!
You're totally dead
Oh god!
Just kidding. None of them had poison...was just messing with you
THAT'S IT! I'M DONE WITH THIS
Really? There's only one more door. I swear
...Fine. What ridiculous thing do I need to do to open it.
*It's already open. You find yourself in a circular room
with a pedestal in the center. On the pedestal is a hand
written note. On that note is the key to everlasting happiness*
I pick up the note
*You smell sweet hints of your beloved's perfume and
notice the care that each word of the note was written.*
What does the note say?
*My love:
Next Tuesday Only -- Buy One-Get One Free at J.J's Pizza. Cannot be combined with any other offers/coupons. Must present coupon upon purchase. Expires 1/14/14*
...An expired coupon for Pizza?
Such a wonderful expression of love!
How do I get out of here...
You see a door
.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Time is of the sentence, while
verbs reveal their intents
for adjective nouns (pro or no
comment) quickly in vents
meant for air, but coarseness
courses through upturned grates
shredding of courses into no ways
to go from here to home,
awaiting infinitely fine moments
caressed along necks of silken
skin within the wear of stretched out
glances left lingering still
in compassionate ponds rippling
soft warm smiles lazily by
the melting cares of the world
golden in luxuriously wrapped light
playing across the surface & through-
out into emerald encrusted irises
to cast love's shadow over
swamps of fear gurgling neuro-
toxic diatribes against plu-
perfect pasts & future
imprefects presented in a case to
Your Honor's (the jury) out of bounds
dissolved with ear ration-
al solutions mixed & stirred
thoroughly throughout,
without spilling too
much.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 2:35 AM UTC
all my life
ive only thought of one thing
YOU
you are why i got an education
why i tried so hard to make beautiful things with my hands
why i got dressed up
why i learned to sing
and dance
why i never stopped trying to make a living
why i always went to the gym
and worked out to be diamond hard
why i was polite or inconsolable
why i ran seven miles a day
why i tried to be charming
why i could never stop playing with myself
why i got through james joyce
why i learned
conversational hypnosis
neuro linguistics
magick
and
witch
craft
to invoke a spell
that would compel
YOU
to dance
the wiggle wiggle
naked
from hot rhythms
and slow melodic
sways
as i prayed
burning
blood red candles
during the darkest moon
for adorations
with endless masturbations
to your beautiful *** and feet
for tender red lipped mercies
kisses kisses kisses
because
you are beauty piqued
from your golden angelic head
soft silken hair
to your sweet pink arched feet
and twinkling painted toes
magnetized
to yank my eyes
and be your
**** boy *** toy
my goddess glitter ****
queen of heaven
all paradise any man needs
BUT
sometimes i couldn't have
YOU
and
it velvet crushed me
taught me hopelessness
broke my will
gave me fear
made me cry
and shiver inside
tore my heart to smithereens
twisted my in-nerds
like jagged metal
melting me
as i spiraled
down
into madness
all burning veins of fire
until inferiority dragged deep
suffocating me
shuddery
like
winters
midnight freeze
and howling winds
through
hollow desolations
marrow-less
bones
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
What if they had a War and nobody came !
my sentiment all along
Actions so transparent and telegraphed a mile long
absurd anchoring, even more absurd triggering
so absurd as to be meaningless
the hotchpotch logic of simpletons on acid
The banal manifestations of the anodyne retards with advanced hysteria
Think unruly kids on Colombian marching powder
think advanced psychosis with total stage ten delusions
Watch mass hysteria contagion
Logic was never there, rationality bolted beating Usain Bolt
Inveterate liars and fantasists now control maddened throngs
Oh dear! they decided I am madly in love with acquaintance
neither I or poor acquaintance know this
But let not the truth get in the way of a soap opera by the insanes
After All meaningless triggers and Delusionary prompts
keep the sheeples busy in People's Power utopia
They are all having a war, nobody has told me about it
I don't understand their language yet they are very eloquent
Deep in their imagined Neuro-linguistic Programming or mental pygmies playing Pavlov Dog theory of the semi-illiterates
I just realized why cancer is prevalent amongst them
They carry so much poison and emotional ******* in their beings
It pollutes and eat away at them internally, they get cancer!
Never have been interested in little minds and liars and thieves
Have little time for dumb people, the toxics and the sheeples
What makes cretins think I take anything of theirs to mind
what can I learn or gain from contemptibles
I don't feel inferior so why would I want to learn
how to slander and defame others to bring them down
'Slander is the GREAT LEVELLER voiced one of them
poor inadequate soul, poor pathetic degenerate
I look twenty years younger than my years, no wrinkles
Just slightly greying, mind as sharp as razor
Because I don't carry acidic ******* hate or foul nonsense
in my head,
Because my mind is full of worthy knowledge
because I am not an ignoramus with attitude
because I am not a shameless coward or an empty headed nonentity
Because I am not amongst the madding crowd
I am not an insignificant pointless HATER with cancer in waiting!
I am NOT a SHAMELESS RACIST white THIEF discrediting the
Victim I STOLE from
OR
an OBNOXIOUS gang of SOCIALIST crazed subhumans cancerized
by jealousy and envy
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
Thorn amongst the weeds
As for what was sown among thorns.
It wasn’t the pumpkin vines: Little did I know:
I watched him daily watering the young plants;
Pulling the dried weeds, and
adding more manure soil to the garden
It took several weeks for me to see a garden full of beautiful
pumpkin leaves and flowers
Little did I know: it was more than vines,
It came with those neuro-protective qualities,
and can also influence pleasure, memory, and thinking:
However, what’s is good for the goose
not necessary good for the gander.
So there I was a little Miss Goosey goosey gander,
Whither shall I wander? Upstairs and downstairs
Or hide behind the old shed, and indulging in high-caloric treats,
Not everyone who uses marijuana becomes addicted.
Nor everyone who writes a piece is a poet, but a good story teller.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Let us Rise and Rejoice for the Wise Controllers of the Streets
Please give praise for the Keepers of Asinine Righteousness
Who have the power to read our minds easy as giving sweets
Esteemed Professors who are World Experts with Greatness
In Neuro-linguistic programming and know all the upbeats
For example anybody with working eyes can see with no cheats
The woman's complexions is not Black even without clearness
Alas I make a joke and lightheartedly say its Black in mirths
Nobel NLP Programmers jump in glee and frenzied eagerness
That is Trigger to void progressive actions with that lady petite
So Professors et vacuous masses devoid of brains go on heats
Sprinkling Blacks all over in project as useless as their dumbness
Tell not dorks I do not see her as black in any way but a tease
Another deluded wasted efforts from the addicted mindlesses
The poor lass graced with honey-gold skin tone is not for meets
Crass semi-illiterates play mind games on levels of bog peats
Psychotic obsessed nonentities with deluded tendentiousness
As if there's a meeting of minds with piffling anodyne greats
Dumbos declaring we are playing with your mind in earness
Show me how a genius compares with Quixotic foolishness
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 2:27 PM UTC
Breath
In
&
Out
The neuro-
toxins of
your sad
and ever fighting struggle
(BLACK MOLD)
Hopefully
you do make
It out alive.
Here
Here-
Let's praise a cheer and hope
Hope
Wish
&
Pray
For the very best
My dear....BLACK
PLIGHT
PLAGUING &
Mold ing
Me asunder:
Death.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
Flashing c o l o r s, and ongoing music it hits me in the face like a wave of static electricity.
The ecstacy strikes my taste buds like sugar and neuro toxins dancing on my tongue.
The smell is foul of puke and ***** Teens are raving,
while the music is playing. Grinding against one another like a mortar and pestle.
Watching an influenced man try to get with a vulnerable women.
Taking advantage of every drop off alcohol that goes into the women’s veins,
there is no blood left, just firewater.
Intoxicated, lying on the floor, blacked out from all the dope.
She finds herself bare in a bed with a man twice her age.
She wimpers to herself saying “I’ll never drink again.”
As she practices her teetotalism,
at a fast pace she grows weary of blood flowing,
and vision clear. She once was a party girl, but that night has saved the day.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
~
October 2025
HP Poet: Pagan Paul
Country: UK
Question 1: We warmly welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Paul. Please tell us about your background?
Pagan Paul: "I am from Bristol, England. I have always been a Free Spirit and never really settled into the society into which I was born. I am neuro-diverse. I am generally quite a shy and private person. I also write a little comedy and love listening to old comedy radio shows. I like cheese (especially vintage Chedder)."
Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?
Pagan Paul: "I have been a member of HP since August 2016. I started writing poetry in around 2012, but not regularly. I think it was around 2015 I became more prolific and took it more seriously."
Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).
Pagan Paul: "My inspiration comes from many sources. Nature, mental health, relationships, experiences, articles, books and my interests. But also from the mess that is my mind."
Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?
Pagan Paul: "What does poetry mean to me? Escape and expression for my creativity. Its a chance to write down things in a way that makes more sense to my neuro-diverse mind as well as to explore and experiment with ideas, concepts and imagination."
Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?
Pagan Paul: "I do not really read much in the way of classical poetry (Byron, Keats etc) but do tend to read some from ancient Greece and Rome like Callus, Praxilla, Virgil etc. I also tend towards the more abstract or psychedelic poetry of James Douglas Morrison. As mentioned I am a fan of comedy poetry by people like Spike Milligan, Henry Normal and Pam Ayers always raise a laugh."
Question 6: What other interests do you have?
Pagan Paul: "My main interest is music and the consumption thereof. I listen to a lot of different music from different genres. I have always regretted never learning an instrument or music theory. I also read a lot, especially with regard to the ancient world. The old myths and legends and folklore are also a source of inspiration for my poetry."
Carlo C. Gomez: “We would like to thank you Paul, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”
Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Paul better. We most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez
We will post Spotlight #33 in November!
~
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 3:41 PM UTC
The parrot has 3 billion neurons in its brain
We have 86 billion
And most of mine are busy
forming unhelpful pathways
Misleading my good intentions.
Still, 3 billion neurons
seems like enough room for a few
unruly pathways
The parrot can repeat phrases
Which we thought to be
pretty cool
So we trapped him
and put him in a cage
And in our living rooms
Alone
The parrot knows how to survive happily
Within his world
Within his world, with 30 others of his kind
And a partner for life.
In his world
he would fly with his flock
To trees to pick fresh fruit
Now he perches on his own
And picks dry fruit out of a bowl.
In his world
he would prune his partners feathers
He would look after her
And she him
Now he perches on his own
And prunes his feathers
until there are none left.
Its an unhelpful neuro pathway, you see?
Some form of OCD?
Maybe its a way to cope?
Maybe its the brain spiralling
Trying to figure out what to do
Because it can't be a parrot anymore
It has to learn to be a toy
A talking point
And the parrot doesn't know how to be that
He only knows how to be a parrot
Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 12:42 PM UTC
2038--neurolotto
You SEE
sometime
in years yet seen
science
will make
our bodies last longer
a decade or more
but questionable advances
will allow
our BRAINS to live
for…millennia
or longer
submerged in
a neuro-friendly elixir
connected to
electric eyes and ears
freed from
frothing fears
about our body’s
dutiful decay
BUT even with infinite leaps
in scientific skill
and our relentless will
(to be around for eternity)
only a few will have the means ($$$$$)
for such magic cyber machines
and joyful juices
to keep them THINKing
10,000 years or more!
So, the powers that be
will have a grand lottery
though millions will apply
(while 10 billion others know their own brains will die)
only a few thousand will have the privilege
of having their few pounds of cranial fat
placed in a perpetually guarded vat
for helpless these brains would be (!)
if they were left at the mercy
of those who could not pay
to extend their time to play
on this rolling rock
What things they will get to see
floating in the magic juice (!!)
But…walks in the park
will be only a waking dream,
thinking about cheeseburgers
will be calorie free,
for the sense of smell and taste
will, of course, be history
music will sound a bit…strange
for the best implants
won’t replace the old ear
a passionate kiss
and the a n t i c i p a t e d bliss
of more
will be a sweet (??) memory
a “sweet” memory…?
Or just a memory
for when freed of the flesh
can sense and soul still mesh?
Can THINKing
we are FEELing
suffice?
and will we really
savor the cyber sight
or cringe in FRIGHT
of round spaghetti *****
floating in other preciously guarded vats
that we KNOW
are our only bodiless friends?
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
I think trauma is a strange word.
I was probably twelve or thirteen when I first heard it - oh yeah, it's when you get really hurt, right?
Blood and guts everywhere.
Thank goodness that doctors exist.
They can patch you up and make you whole again.
"Incoming trauma! All hands on deck!"
I think it's a strange word because, supposedly, trauma is what happened to me. But that can't be right, can it?
I imagine myself being rolled into a hospital on a stretcher, doctors and nurses taking me from paramedics.
"Eighteen year old female suffering from internal cardiovascular and neuro injuries. Speech and sight is impaired."
I'm okay. What are you talking about? All I did was love two people.
"Injuries are consistent with loving parents that don't love you in return."
Wait, what? No, my parents love me!
My dad likes to drink sometimes but at least he doesn't act unpredictable anymore when I suggest he go to bed.
Well, there was that one time he fell down the stairs. Also the time he peed on me while I was sleeping because he believed my room was the bathroom.
But my mom is okay! She likes to leave a lot and there were those times she had loud *** with strangers in the room next to mine late at night. But she's good, I swear. Even when she had chlamydia and I held her while she cried.
Even when she left and never came back.
"I need a crash cart in here! Patient is bleeding out and her blood pressure is dropping - "
I'm fine, I swear.
All I did was love them.
Wait, hang on!
What about that time my parents argued and my dad tried to choke my mom to death?
I mean...I did run away from the house, crying, to find our neighbor.
I did beg her to call the police.
But that's not trauma, right?
I just wanted them to stop yelling. I just wanted him to let her go before she stopped breathing.
That's love.
"Paddles, please! Charge to three hundred..."
"Clear!"
These doctors really don't know anything.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
You and I
went through
phases
nutella and
new music and
Children's television and
taco bell and
movie going and
the lottery
We never won
a **** thing
Then there was
sleeping in and
not sleeping at all and
neuro something-or-other and
youtube
My head on your lap
Your hands on my head
Your eyes on the screen
Lastly
there was
5 guys
but
how many did it take
to sever me
from you?
just
one
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 3:00 AM UTC
the shadow cabinet of a cultural marxist
government is filled with them,
these spewing neuro-science pop
zeitgeist, whatever you want to call them,
these culutral darwinists: annoying
as either gnat or **** depends...
depends if there's an evangelical member
of the lord of mosquitos cult,
you know the one... based in the vatican;
p.s. nope... i just got bored of the ****** argument,
these cultural darwinists are like theologians,
sneaky ************* they're just like
theologians: they use the lion and the pigeon
in terms of competing for animals,
like the theologians use the spider and
the spiderweb for their "creator"...
the only problem with this comparison
of man to animal...
well... there's that problem of domesticated
animals... castrating pedigree breeds of cats...
and then the harem of pigs and cows...
how young bulls are slaughtered,
and only one is left to breed with the other
*******
see where cultural darwinism is
heading?
why would i compete for sloppy
seconds... when i ********** like
a woman menstrautes... once a month?
p.p.s. i'm not too good at hebrew,
but if there's anyone out there to provide
the new name for jesus "christ",
please make him the ******* brother of
beelzebub, i.e. the lord of mosquitos.
p.p.p.s. does fine art equal ****
i mean... i ****** off looking at
agnolo bronzino's
venus, cupid, folly & time... um...
maybe i just have refined tastes.
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
Flashing c o l o r s, and ongoing music it hits me in the face like a wave of static electricity.
The ecstacy strikes my taste buds like sugar and neuro toxins dancing on my tongue.
The smell is foul of puke and ***** Teens are raving,
while the music is playing. Grinding against one another like a mortar and pestle.
Watching an influenced man try to get with a vulnerable women.
Taking advantage of every drop off alcohol that goes into the women’s veins,
there is no blood left, just firewater.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
These lost years of loneliness and social depravity
Have left me with nothing except this written tragedy
I sat and watched as the walls of my life crumbled away
Into this contorted sensation twisting through dismay
These ceaseless rememberance sessions screaming inside
A dead fixed stare on old friends taking cyanide
These bonds have come together in such a swift motion
And, just as fast they've came to their abrubt destruction
Dispersing any tint of mutual belonging from view
Molding a sad landscape of sighs and failing virtue
Watching as the remnants of my relationships loiter
The catacombs of these stockpiled confession letters
If only I could say anything my empathy had to tell me
My skeletal pose might have perched upright in a higher degree
And I would of have grown to a more formidable size
A clear cut aspiration that I never came to realize
Until all that I held grew too big for me to carry
and left me to stumble and sleep at the cemetary
Scratching dead love songs on century old gravestones
Where the forgotten have slept for generations alone
Hoping the crude penmanship might grace a weary heart
Or help a looming ghost feel a taste of love and depart
From the fog filled graveyard parade that it dwells
A final ringing from the synapsis of the greif bells
Sparking the ruin of a memory that doesn't seem real
A fading echo of a brotherhood I wish I could still feel
Detached from a reality that lurks in a decrepit imagery
Reshaping my empty cognition through a fake neuro surgery
I've reached the point where I have no reason to find
A replacement for all these buried pictures astray in my mind
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
and waited an hour
while six dead deep we stood and stared.
It never used to be this way,
I used to get in right away,
but now the zombies come
and wait, and stay.
I want to tell them what they'll find
when inhibitions thaw,
that once they eat the wizard’s fruit
their eyes will see, its what I saw,
a paradise in white pill pageantry.
I cant go back, its better this way,
he’s changed my neuro-chemistry,
defied my ****** up ancestry,
The slayer of boredom
and mediocrity mastered,
I raise a toast to my new idolatry!
to the wizard!
He who holds the key;
my doctor of psychiatry.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 12:10 AM UTC
Todos los intermedios pudresienes de espera de esqueleto de lluvia sin persona
cuando no neutros lapsus micropulpos engendros del sotedio
pueden antes que cóncavos ausentes en seminal yacencia
ser otros flujos ácidos del diurno sueño insomne
otros sorbos de páramo
tan viles vivas bilis de nonadas carcomas diametrales
aunque el sabor no cambie
y Ofelia pura costa sea un pescado reflejo de rocío de esclerosada túnica sin lastre
un fósil loto amóvil entre remansos muslos puros juncos de espasmo
un maxilar de luna sobre un canto rodado
tierno espectro fluctuante del novilunio arcaico dromedario
lejos ya de su neuro dubitabundo exnovio psiquisauce
aunque el sabor no cambie
y cualquier lacio cuajo invista nuevos huecos ante los ídem lodos expartos bostezantes
peste con veste huéspedes del macrobarro grávido de muerte
y hueros logros de horas lagrimales
aunque el sabor no cambie
y el menos yo del uno en el total por nada
beato saldo de excoito amodorrado malentetando el asco
explore los estratos de su ámbito si sino
cada vez menos cráter
aunque el sabor no cambie
cada vez más burbúja de algánima no náyade
más amplio menos tránsfuga
tras sus estancas sienes de mercurio
o en las finales radas de lo obsceno de marismas de pelvis bajo el agua
con su no llanto arena y sus mínimas muertes navegables
aunque el sabor no cambie
y sólo erecto espeso mascaduda insaciado en progresiva resta
ante el incierto ubicuo muy quizás equis deífico se malciña la angustia interrogante
aunque el sabor no cambie
1.2k
Only felt a moment,
a moment in a dream.
Suckling neuro pollen
The solstace of this minute
The magnus mental stream.
I found the new oasis
I saw the new serine
I found the new oasis
I saw her in a dream
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:06 AM UTC
so i got these emotion things
i don't quite know how to express
when every face i see
is yours
with some odd personality
conceal'd by eyes a milky-hazel.
there's some reason you are
the end vowel in CATO,
there's some reason you're
only five lines long.
we found in passing mutual interest
trump'd by your own,
and you squander'd my time.
it's late now, and
the dead Greek's guitar
weeps after learning
hands which once graced it
would never again caress.
after a minute,
i follow'd in a
wake left by fleeting feet,
in attempt at egress, but
our beautiful mountain was gone.
i don't sleep these days,
i wouldn't credit you,
the devil went to bed with us
and he sleeps pretty good.
no, i wouldn't credit you.
credit due this silent machine
of mathematics and neuro-electric rhythms,
sparking, igniting,
some neuroleptic response
as i lapse in paradox.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 9:51 AM UTC
My animal instincts convince me to breathe,
My neuro-receptors allow me to receive.
My brain and my lungs convince me to live
But the love in my heart allows me to give.
My feline instincts, they tell me to pounce,
My human nature drives me to announce.
My beautiful robin flew down from above,
She taught me to fly and she taught me to love.
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 8:30 PM UTC
Dear consumer,
To whom it may concern
Eye found access to success through word therapy
I am in control of my lifes legacy
Life as an integer in your prime
Dodging all the negatives to get to the positive vibes
Only to break even on the odd ball jackpot
Don't say a word to contradict your goals
Anything to get my own households
Shine from the inside and dark on the outside
The Cemetary doesn't make me cry
I believe the dead live more after life
Watch your words cause your words watch you
Sub conscious pattern controlling your view
Wake up human and drink morning dew
Back to the head line
Analyse your victim before terrorizing their perception territory
A model rather then a theory
The emotional intelligency
Dressed for the occasion and act like winning
Speak to the mirror and thank your presence
Break through your habit disorder
The human will remember everything before the word "and"
Forget everything before "but"
The dynamics to verbal behaviour.....
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 3:37 AM UTC
I look back at the wreckage
of my life
mass of twisted emotion
car crash of desire
watching the beauty of bridges
burning out in the night
how can you understand me
when I barely know who I am
searching for personality
a place to call myself
mirrored in your eyes
I'm who you're looking for
an oasis in the desert
full of the promise of disappointment
leading to so many dead ends
that never had an entrance
lets skip the intro
move on to the overture
I don't do goodbyes
just change the music
and onto the next show
Dec 8, 2024
Dec 8, 2024 at 6:55 AM UTC
ive dodged bullets bigger than my head
fired by guns in the hands of the lost & lonely
by all rights i should surely be splattered, dead
the gray matter lodging in my skull is my one & only
my neuro-circuits are a circus blaring classic jazz
emanating from my ears and causing a regular razzmatazz
my heart, i know it beats only for a limited time
like an infomercial, superficial in the way it teases me
but my head, it knows the differences between reason & rhyme
money equals madness and the line between land & sea
at the same time, i feel it disintegrating as it sits worriless
and I ask myself, "could you really care less?"
but when the day comes when my heart & head agree
i know it will be near the end and i'm okay with that
no longer will i scurry like a hungry squirrel, endlessly
i will not walk around with the curiosity of a newborn cat
looking for my head, examining this hypothetical ****** mystery
for it won't be dead like my heart will claim it to be
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC