When the writing reflects only the ghost
of a mind brimming in the void,
fractured wedding's dusk ,
trapped in neurotic's meanders...
Flavor of the boundless in all impossible,
messenger of the passing clouds
and believer of mirages...
Flame burning within you,
nothing more than voluptuousness
of a laughtable bonfire in search
of a few embers that are too polite
to be honest...
Poet, bewitching counterfeit who forges
a thousand deaths you never lived !
Your verses,make such a racket ,
that fools mistake for organic music !
Poor ego ,emerges from the remnants of lord Byron !
Pardon,to be so cruel for your tender ether ,
and the wound I carve in the silk of your sentimental soul !
Yet rejoice- all this wreckage can be fodder
to mediocre inspiration !
Under your powdered mask ,between grimace and melancholy,
walled off in your unsaid space-time ,
upon the ink of your insane silence ,
take off your crimson nose which frightens
the lunar infants ...
Midnight's arachnid ethyl dance .
'' You'll be a buffoon my son ! ''
Step mother said .
So,did you mourn a life as a clown ,
or did the gibberish of your lyrics ,
mockery of your poor shadow ?
Guys,this the story of a jester
who dreamed to be a poet .
Every paths of the life ,unravels into the dawn
you never chose to meet ...
You're just '' That '' !
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: October 17th, 2026 11:00
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell
Online)
Comments3
Ah a clown never scared me but left me laughing a wonderful image here my friend and now I play the jester
When i was a child I hated clowns and often poets are clowns in disguise !
He wanted to be the author of his own legend, but ended up a character in someone else’s story.
Who is deceiving whom ?
fine piece my friend, much enjoyed read
a piece full of mood and humor !
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