Page: Profile: Poetry
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VxPoem ID: 29013
Posted: June 20th. 2007 7:22:31 AM
Passive immobile escape
Age Group: Adult
Chains of chance
Head dropped down in exhausted confusion
the ache slowly spreads and you fancy
the existence before it falls to you feet, oh my…
what’s all this dying wheat?
Spreading in my mind, fields of gold—
get away, you’re not
the exact peaceful place…
not my style, not my space.
The horror picture show begins to drown in the screams,
I don’t care anymore…
they’re just a part of this dream.
Chances? what are they for? to
bring back hope and get out the door…
it means leaving, and coming home…
but now, I’d rather be alone.
No energy left to even say
a single goodbye to close the day,
it’s all… relative and strange…
surreal and deranged, please don’t disturb
this peaceful niche that took so long to make…
please… don’t try and shake me
so that I stay awake, I just want to escape.
Can they truly see me? as they pass by
and look straight at… me,
can they really see all there is to my world…
what’s with the hell, they ask,
I shouldn’t be so ‘absurd’ – that’s all…
all they want to see from me
is what they expect…
what’s it to be unique anymore,
when you’re just a hated thing, dusty with neglect.
Spaces are so wide… and they
stretch until they collide…
everything melts into one swirling pool of red,
every color tries to rise out of the
barren field of ashes, but it’s too late,
and I still can’t escape.
If I turn back… and see something else,
or if I keep looking as the rain soaks everything,
would I see, either way, nature’s endless wealth
as it calls out to me… slowly seeping…
perhaps just weeping, I couldn’t tell.
All the ferocity is justified but why I comply
is not the actual brutality that might threaten me,
it’s because of a passive state in my life…
I’ve no reason to fight…
the motion picture that had the sadistic pleasure
to indulge in screaming, suddenly froze
and as the rain hit my forehead it slowly traveled
to the tip of my nose, and fell… at leisure,
the screams are no longer the feature of this entertainment
it’s got no excitement, no enjoyment, all of it is
just a dying well…
what remnant of having a home still leaves me
feeling slightly alone, were it not for all the things
that are stuffed in my head…
the chances for escape seem so… dead…
Just before sifting out of reality, she wakes up
one more time to look at me, she’s a part of me
so strange and distant now…
just before going to death’s embrace,
she traces a finger along a page,
and reads out to me the last note she wrote,
it’s the only trace of her existence now…
leather bound book wrapped in lace,
it’s the mural on the wall from which I can still see her face,
even once she decides to pass on…
she’ll never be entirely gone…
Places make me so uneasy, the revolving sky
makes me queasy and the bright lights are shining too strongly…
everything is placed so wrongly—
skylines are drifting above my head,
the sky itself seems to be the ground on which I tread, and
the weight of the world is waiting
to crash on my head, it’s wavering…
am I the black night that waits for the sun
to pierce me through as soon as its rays come along,
or am I a mere star shining
waiting to be dimmed by the blinding god…
can I escape the weight, can get away from
the tie-in that’s another blindfold…
March 18, 2007
Author's Notes: Hehe, I've invented this style I think...
Author's Location: Szeged, Hungary
More Poems: Widdershins has posted 234 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Widdershins - Click HERE
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