This is the story of the man who swears;
He's juxtaposed with vulgar synonyms,
Armed with curses from his lips to his hairs;
Now listen to his tale without trims:
When the idiots want to play God,
The future is an unsure cesspool of pus;
Just who left these fools in charge, Lord?
Oh, yes, it was all of us.
Burnt trees bore golden fruit,
Thirstier with every bite.
My soul, falling like a parachute,
Expanding with every contraction; oh, what a sight.
When you aim so low,
But go so far;
You aim a little higher,
And end up stuck in a hole black as tar.
I'm going down again now,
I know I'll come back up again later.
But I know it won't be know,
So, sorry to bother you with my low demeanour.
All the talk about getting old,
Is getting old, the older I get.
I'm not sure if I'm dying,
Or if I've just forgotten how it feels to live;
But the pain is beautiful.
We're just wires wanting to connect;
We're just lyrics needing a melody;
All the silly people, and what they similarly expect,
Search for truth, but settle for a lie's false remedy.
Back and forth undecided road;
Unsure, if this be the worst thing,
Or the best thing I've ever wrote;
Perhaps I'll know when my bell rings.
This is the tale of the man who swears;
He's entranced in the simplicity of mouth bombs.
He knows of no satisfaction, only that of what it bears;
He knows of no weapon stronger than that of words in arms.
YOU ARE READING
Long Soon Gone
PoetryPart 6 of my 2021 series. Long Soon Gone is a collection of poems that are highly abstract and cryptic. Much of the messages and themes are up to interpretation. This collection is very special to me as I feel that it represents me best and just abo...
