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Apollo
Vincent Slade
Online
United States, Virginia, Richmond

Words: 505
Access: Public
Comments: 1

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Howling

My stomach settled uneasily;
My mind is flighty, breezy…
My body; a tired mass that’s broken
My name goes unspoken.

The token fallen angel,
and reality is painful,
Wondering when this game will…

End.

There is no Zen.
God killed by men who pretend to mend,
The holes in their souls; black burning coals.
Evil exists in this world,
as a little boy or girl…

We need another way. We need a summer day.
Hang missiles in the sky…
They never die… dreamy fire flies.

Leaves over-head turning gold and red
Feeling truth change water to lead.
The moon rises up, it’s just enough...
Brighten silver, white lightening,
Frighten those afraid of the dark.
Raving madmen in my head howl and bark.
A cyclone of bad decisions and listless living.

Just because I can.
Just because I can.

Cut it up, then smooth it down.
Forced smiles choking on frowns;
Skimpy night-gowns on twenty thousand dollar hookers.
Still feel empty, they don’t cuddle… they’re hookers.

Hands are tied. Head on the chopping block.
A spot atop the rock and hard place you’re between.
I seem to have dreamed up a false scene...
Trying to make what’s rusted look green.
I was drugged, beaten, and left to burn.
Arose from the ashes to return…

The favor.

My soul is the flavor of hatred.
I’ll never take back that statement.
I need some help before I melt,
Addicted to this wicked witch.
An insipid gift- a tongue bitten kiss…

Blow birthday candles out.
I scream and shout!
I doubt, these wishes come true.
Smoke fades from black to blue
There’s nothing I can do… to make you…

See.
Si?
Sea storm eyes…

A point of view closed behind cast iron doors.
Stuck in one universe while I transcend through four.
It’s not fair that no one cares or that no one shares…

What’s it called? Depression?
Desperate laughter signing confessions.

To spite those who sleep through the sessions and believe in oppression,
My obsessions will not be called into question; no second guessing.

I send presents to little kids forgotten on holidays;
Gold bundles of sun rays.
Still I die in my dreams! Bleeding on crime scenes!

Uncover lids that smother the inspired.
Drunk with desire… You taste like fire.
Normal defined by staying in lines?
I am abstract, red wine… I won’t be defined,

People of my kind are hard to find.

Every chapter is a deviation,
Education is what this nation needs,
With enough patience we can replace the complacent with peace.
Still feeling a mess; jumbled letters on pages…
A bunch of make-shift mumbled phrases…
You’re enslaved. You’re basic.

I’m cursed.
I became this verse
I disperse mirth on paper.
I’m like sex unprotected.
Expect the unexpected;
I hope you regret it.

So much cascades through my head;
Miles underfoot before I reach bed.
Don’t worry, if you don’t understand;
I don’t expect you even can…

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Comments  
Haven Sake Comment by: Haven Sake - 2008-06-22 18:54
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Well, I've already commented on your writing style, but i must say your poetry is maybe even better...if that i s possible. I still think you have a writing gift. There's such depth to this dark poem, and i felt the intensity from the first line all the way to the last, where i was left stricken. (But in a good way).
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By Apollo

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