My Poetry
NumbersNotFound
Join Date: 2002-11-07 Member: 7556Members
Join Date: 2002-11-07 Member: 7556Members
in Off-Topic
<div class="IPBDescription">Don't start throwing veggies yet..</div> <i>Imagination</i>
Imagination is that little guy
Who rips you from reality.
When conscious, he is shy,
Giving images of ill morality.
But at night he goes astray,
Unleashing his full fledged fury
As some angelic drowsiness led away,
To strange images of a Dr. Seuss like blurry.
Imagination has some mercy,
Throwing a bone of sleppin' lucidity.
Though this alternate reality can lead to cursing
At uncontrollable actions and stupidity.
But all over it will soon be,
As daylight breaks through our curtains,
Images fade and dreams eschew, till we never see,
And happy are we at their departure- that is for certain.
<i>MMmmm... Blanket</i>
My blanket doesn't care
If I had a bad day.
To it it matters not if I glare.
It only wants me to stay
And provide it with warmth.
It doesn't care
If I was rejected,
Or if I was disrespected,
It cuddles me nonetheless.
It is always there when I try to sleep,
Filling a gap in an already filled bed.
And when I wake, from it I am led,
And I trust my faithful bed will keep it company.
<i>A Crazy Crazy Vent</i>
What do you do when...
Every ounce of your extroverted soul is bound by introversion.
Locked in place by years of verbal reinforcement-
Broadcastings of concrete at the wavelength of your fears.
It binds you with chains of sociologiacal prowess.
What do I do when...
So many friends are at my fingertips, but I cannot flex my hand.
Prevented by a paralytic substance secreted by silence.
It burns so many holes in my muscle,
Keeping the hand from ever flexing again.
It throws me to madness- it's unreachable proximity.
What do you do when...
No outlet is provided for pent up thought,
When society leaves you behind in a vacuum,
In which the loudest shouds are unheard.
Inflating you in a vain attempt to fill the void- until your burst.
So I set a trap...
What if I told you...
That you were all fishes, eating a yummy bait of verse.
I see you floundering in my vacuume-
Unable to adjust to such an abrupt emptyness.
I get enjoyment from it- seeing you in my net-
My net which is laced with my essence-
Rubbing it against your scaled skin.
You now understand me, so I throw you back.
My bait has worked, you heard me out, you have become my outlet.
Tell me what you think... I like the first one the best.
Imagination is that little guy
Who rips you from reality.
When conscious, he is shy,
Giving images of ill morality.
But at night he goes astray,
Unleashing his full fledged fury
As some angelic drowsiness led away,
To strange images of a Dr. Seuss like blurry.
Imagination has some mercy,
Throwing a bone of sleppin' lucidity.
Though this alternate reality can lead to cursing
At uncontrollable actions and stupidity.
But all over it will soon be,
As daylight breaks through our curtains,
Images fade and dreams eschew, till we never see,
And happy are we at their departure- that is for certain.
<i>MMmmm... Blanket</i>
My blanket doesn't care
If I had a bad day.
To it it matters not if I glare.
It only wants me to stay
And provide it with warmth.
It doesn't care
If I was rejected,
Or if I was disrespected,
It cuddles me nonetheless.
It is always there when I try to sleep,
Filling a gap in an already filled bed.
And when I wake, from it I am led,
And I trust my faithful bed will keep it company.
<i>A Crazy Crazy Vent</i>
What do you do when...
Every ounce of your extroverted soul is bound by introversion.
Locked in place by years of verbal reinforcement-
Broadcastings of concrete at the wavelength of your fears.
It binds you with chains of sociologiacal prowess.
What do I do when...
So many friends are at my fingertips, but I cannot flex my hand.
Prevented by a paralytic substance secreted by silence.
It burns so many holes in my muscle,
Keeping the hand from ever flexing again.
It throws me to madness- it's unreachable proximity.
What do you do when...
No outlet is provided for pent up thought,
When society leaves you behind in a vacuum,
In which the loudest shouds are unheard.
Inflating you in a vain attempt to fill the void- until your burst.
So I set a trap...
What if I told you...
That you were all fishes, eating a yummy bait of verse.
I see you floundering in my vacuume-
Unable to adjust to such an abrupt emptyness.
I get enjoyment from it- seeing you in my net-
My net which is laced with my essence-
Rubbing it against your scaled skin.
You now understand me, so I throw you back.
My bait has worked, you heard me out, you have become my outlet.
Tell me what you think... I like the first one the best.
Comments
Only the last one is free verse.. the first two have a rhyme scheme... though not as stereotypical (AKA not every line rhymed)
Wrong, self expression is.