Got Instrumentals for days - they help me write,
Getting souls ready - on route for the final fight.
I see signs and symbols - everything peculiar,
Don't spend much time reflecting in the mirror.
Remove yourself from the cobra's heavy clutch,
Life on this God forsaken Earth can be too much.
Prepared mentally - not much to do physically,
Achievements, awards - come forth heavenly.
Blasting off - not quite leaving this atmosphere,
No longer drinking alcohol - keep all that beer.
Ultra processed foods and additives send us to the coroner,
Droned out with the fluoride - toothpaste and tap water.
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Author:
Shaunmatthewcpoetry (
Offline) - Published: April 21st, 2026 01:00
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
Good write SM.
Thanks!
Here the author breaks out the atmosphere and it is more party than not. Nicely written
Appreciate it.
You are most welcome
Shaun, this feels like a declaration…there’s that steady rhythm of pulling away from what drags you down while leaning into something higher and more intentional. It’s grounded but reaching at the same time, and that balance works. Powerful write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks pal, crazy world as usual haha.
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