Pollock VVV

A Boy With Roses

illa cantat; nos tacemus; quando ver venit meum?

 

I bristle with blueness

Chewing on the bone of contention

I believe, I believe capital things will happen

Today when the lurid sun was shining

I felt at peace for a moment

Staring at the birds in the pink sky

I smoked on my cigarette, broken inside

Broken like a chain of daisies from one's summer childhood

I traverse athwart like lightening and thunder

In the night, diamond bright

I remember my violent father

Fondly

But he was a damn cunt like the junta

Or a sore loser with a megaphone

You can't tame a psycho

 

If I'm being frank, I usually evade the truth

Being diligent

I've got nothing better to do

Reality is going straight to my brain

I'm holding onto things I can't let go

Wishing I could turn back time

In a precarious position

Drinking cherry soda, I have no game plan

I have my reason, I have my reason

I have my reason

 

On gilt Bristol, speaking out loud                                                         

I'm solemn, wearing eyes like a shroud                                                                                 

Like a 96 impala, aimless in Tampa                                                                                 

Learning from my mistakes                                                                                                       

My thoughts are like crashing waves                                                                                 

Hungry for the juicy taste of peaches                                                                                                 

I swear there's a dog barking in my head                                                                         

It's a renaissance in abstractness                                                                                       

I'm a proverbial tornado                                                                                         

Unpredictable but an angel                                                                                     

Hexed in a canyon, not trying hard enough                                                               

Coffee hour is over, I'm going back to work                                                                                   

I've thrown out the surplus. 

  • Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 28th, 2020 20:38
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 29
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments1

  • Markthetabor

    I LOVE THIS!!! You provoked emotion while expressing it yourself.



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.