Whenever I can and go out, I can't help it.
My attention spills out and crowds the walls.
Some crazy person understands it.
From that old neighborhood, tapping his feet along the sidewalks, holding his mother's hand, he asked and assumed meanings.
In a certain sense, drawing attention in that instinctive way.
You could say I was taught to read before the teacher did.
Deciphering the code with a hunger for wisdom about that update of humanity's newest gossip was the driving force?
What is your unappropriable power?
The one who captures us and drives us to transcend into the inhospitable spaces of the imagination as you return in '98
Some squander and slander their egos
Postcards of cultural poverty emancipated from their roots
Promises of forgotten loves, rusted by rain, sun, and moon
The faces and names of immortals chant and ache
Smoky portals that bring back joy with laughter in some deserts of smiles
Always prevalent in that war of bipartisan hatreds
The truth of the most precious hearts of this people speaks and says "this is art and homeland!"
No one deceives them because they have no purer interests than their own happiness
We soldiers of strange colors and shapes have always been criminalized
What is the limit of morality that wants to melt the projection of my pupils into faded gray?
Their codes and ours never got along, but sometimes they feign a truce
Passions of potions on the floor, inventing!
Dodging on a tile, the idea of a sad ending
Could it be that I don't even have a wall?
How could I fill it with pain and beauty in a bleeding rose...
May God give you double then!
Since that concept that separates you from all of us in a pile of bricks and material
Gave a frame and canvas to life itself
Doodles and works of art alike, they endure eternally in the mental projection of all who saw and will see.
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Author:
Damaso (
Offline) - Published: March 29th, 2025 08:58
- Comment from author about the poem: Ode to the lady muse of the unhinged.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments4
Numbers and letters have colors in the mind that blend into a picture of a poem. A lovely thought. Loved the creativity of the write
I really like that idea, thanks for sharing it. It's very difficult to talk about passions that overflow from the heart. Thanks for stopping by. Best regards.
"Pain and beauty in a bleeding rose". Very beautiful.
I'm glad you liked it. Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing. Best regards.
"Promises of forgotten loves, rusted by rain, sun, and moon". Wow! One of many amazing lines, Damaso! Great job on this. A fave for me. 🌹👏
Well, I'm so glad you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for the encouraging words. Thanks for stopping by. It's so nice to receive those words. Best regards.
You are most, welcome, my friend! Hope you have a great weekend!
Pain hurt, losses,love beauty everything wrapped up in this write, it is a wonderful piece of writing
Thank you very much, sir. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm glad the sentiment conveyed was conveyed. Best regards.
You are very welcome
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