Some people say I am rather deep, dramatic and, even more so, terribly wordy.
I suppose this is true when they are around to see and hear me speak aloud;
When they are around—when—as if they are really ever around me at all.
They’re not. During that time I work alone, I walk alone, I talk alone—
At least in my head—I feel like I am the walking dead lumbering
Leaden-like as I haunt my own hallways, spook my own screen.
The words I utter are desperate drawings in my mind,
Pictures that portray a truth I try to suppress—
I feel shame for the thoughts I trap within—
So that I can keep wearing this façade,
This makeup that hides this joker
From this weaponized world.
But when people come
I talk nervously
Because I
Cannot
Stop it.
Epic
Fail.
Just
Drop
It.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: April 27th, 2025 06:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments9
Wordy! Talkative was a term used and when the mouth shut, the pen began to go overdrive 🙏🏻🕊️
Yeah. Talkative. That has been thrown my way too! LOL! Except I am not really. I love my alone time and quiet...especially my writing time...but when that is ALL one gets...then yeah, I talk at the first sight of humanity! Sue me! 🤣 Thank you so much for your read and your understanding my friend. Much appreciated, always! 🧠💔🎭🙏
Beautifully raw and honest. Your words resonate deeply.
Thank you Salvia. Your time, your feedback and that the poem resonated mean so much to me. Much appreciated, my friend. 🧠💔🎭🙏
For most poems I ignore the form of the print on the page but for yours I have learned that there is a message there as well. At first I saw a martini glass and thought of how alcohol greases the mouth. Then I saw the upper half of an hourglass and speech flowing while life is going. The poem itself speaks to me of of covering with words what one does not want others to see. A distraction and when alone I distract myself with speech as well. The final few lines indicate change in a way (Stop it epic fail just drop it) the end of speech and therefore the distraction. Most lovely my friend
Thank you, Soren. Truly. Your ability to engage not just with the words but also the architecture of the piece means more than I can express, especially saying that you normally would ignore that. The martini glass flowing into an hourglass—what a great reflection on the ways we use speech both to grease the wheels and to mark the passing of ourselves. Thank you, my friend, for seeing both the words and the silence inside them. Your time and comments are always appreciated! 🌑🧠🎭🙏
This should be printed in a Gothic script and framed likewise, then hung at the entry to all houses of assembly. When some would feign deny it's reality, fearing innately the sheer madness, they must be calmed since this is a cute definition of aka reality. Beautifully rendered with excellent imagery and a haunting poignancy. Thank you very much for sharing.
Wow, Missy, what a beautiful and deeply humbling comment. I can think of no higher honor than to have these words seen as a mirror to reality itself. And yes, I think you’re right—we fear madness most when it’s our own reflection staring back. Thank you for your time, your insight, and for your ongoing support. It means more than I can say. 🌑🧠🎭🙏
It's like reading a stunning confession to the self and it is stunning, in word and image. I beheld the image as the bell of a Horne, as in: 'blow your own horn,' that is to the tune of lies to conceal the jester, as it were. A brilliant poem, exceptionally so. Very well done indeed.
Kind regards,
Tony.
Thank you so much, Tony. Your read of the poem means a great deal to me—especially your insight about the horn and the jester. You captured exactly what I was wrestling with beneath the words: the ways in which we attempt to hide the harder, more painful truths. I'm humbled by your very kind words and truly grateful for your time and reflections. Kind regards to you as well, my friend. 🌑🧠🎭🙏
Good write Funnel, erm, Tristan! lol.
🤣🤣🤣 You caught it, Orchi! Funnel by name, funnel by form! But do not call me Obi Wan...erm...I'll just leave that there. 🤣 Much appreciated, my friend. 🌪️🎭🙏
I will not say then - Good write Obi, erm, Tristan. LOL.
🤣
You have really described what it's like to be me, sometimes I think it is because I have to speak Italian, which is my second language and I'm also a person who hates confrontation so my nervousness comes right to the surface when I have to discuss matters I dislike, a superb write which is more than just a bit relatable I thought it was just me... Your first 3 lines are exactly me. Kudos. Maybe that is why we can actually write our emotions.... 🌹
Thank you so much, Teddy. Your comment truly touches me. It always amazes me how poetry can make us realize we aren't as alone in our struggles as we think. I can only imagine how speaking in a second language would heighten that nervousness even more. I am not in that situation, but the very thought of it gives me anxiety. I'm honored the poem resonated with you, especially those first few lines—and yes, maybe that's why we write: because it gives our emotions a safe place to land and a safe place for others to land as well. Again, many thanks. 🌹🙏🧠💔🎭🙏
Tremendous work. Love the flow and structure.
Thank you Thomas. Glad it delivered. Much appreciated, my friend! 🧠💔🎭🙏
there are times when one needs to be alone, and times when we desperately seek someone to talk to
innermost feelings well described - good job
Indeed. Thank you my friend. Your time and feedback are much appreciated! 🧠💔🎭🙏
always welcome - take care
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