Maybe i think to much,
see things beyond the eyes,
spend time wasted on tides,
see all the dark patch,
hiding within the surface,
maybe i lost it,
the cool calm within,
the misconception of light,
when darkness is half bright
maybe i lost it,
maybe its hard,
when it all plays recipricoal,
and the log call?
full of jezebel and jezreel,
maybe i see not all
maybe my head s got a belly
that may blast before it last
when lust and love becomes silly,
maybe its the past,
or maybe am loosin it
-
Author:
imma isa kemmy (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 6th, 2025 16:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Damaso
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Comments2
Premonitions and a foreboding to this poem. Nicely written
Thanks
Isa…this flows like a mind on the edge of thought and thunder. 😮💨 That “belly” line? Wow. So much tension between knowing and almost knowing. You walk that line unafraid of the blur. Really powerful piece. 🌹👏
Thanks
You are welcome.
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