If my left hand could match my right
If my fingers could walk the walk
If my shoulders could cope with pounding
I would be a one man band
Ponding
Bashing
Screaming
Hounding
My words would hide deep under a heavy metal pounding drum and the world would be none the wiser.
No, I never agreed to sell my soul to the Devil. He came and took it when I looked the other way. Turned the blind eye to the path well lit, I chose the shadier ways. No, there was no contract written, between the bearded saint; the goat and me. I made no choice consciously, and the acid burning still; in me.
@circle-no-10: awesome prose, is the road less taken when the walker is blind-folded.
Have followed this bog for ages now, well worth it, diversity in writing is what is interesting to me.
Endorsement from a fan! YAY! Thank you kindly @anjo-da-guarda-me 🙂
With only a few minor tweaks
I could be a successful human being
Living next door to You
Washing my car every weekend
With only a few minor tweaks
Tinkering and rerouting the internals mainly
God’s light would shine upon me
Basking in their glory
With only a few minor tweaks
Take away the suppressants and inhibitors
Bouncing off the ceiling yet again
Chains of olden days – lost
With only a few minor tweaks
.We
..Might
…Become
….Friends
…..Again
……
A kiss of fear
A kiss of death my dear
A kiss of sinking tears
A kiss – no longer – desired
Who will grieve you
In foreign lands, scarred and burning
Who will grieve you
On Mother soil, scarred and hurting
Who will grieve you
Locked up, scarred and shivering
Who will grieve you
Hanging by your belt, scarred and fooled
Canon fodder on home soil – soon forgotten
It turned out to be a game of
Cat n Mouse
After a few carefully directed flicks on the
Mouse
.t.h.e.
P..U..S..S..Y drowned
alone
My joys are
Gone; disappeared during a drunken
Fight; the Words challenged the Music to a
Fisticuff; poetry lost but the banging head
Sympathize; both gone; no heart for poetry
Remains; I read your words; nothingness
Bubbles; I hear your words; stillness
Rumble; my joys are
Gone
I think it might be for the best, my best that is, if I “pass” on this invitation to be “Only Friends” as you suggest. I wanted more but like most of my ideas they would eventually fall flat needless to say. I need a friend that does not make me feel bad about feeling bad, you do; at times at least, lack the gentleness of which I crave. You claim you want to support me, yet the hand you extend most times come swinging, leaving invisible bruises for me to tend at my leisure. As a parting thought you should know, you were the first Woman I have ever fallen for. For better or for worse, the path ahead unlit and shrouded in mist, like the storyline from a book, narrated with your precious voice.
I would if I
…Could
Present to you my
…Words
Spoken in common tounge
…Accented
But discomfort, dislike and
…Hatred
I avoid my voice in
…Public
So silent I will
…Remain
My words a voice
….Deprived
My words in silence
Abide
