My stagnant retreat in Statesboro beguiled me towards full eradication of self-development, both physical and mental, resulting into “spiritual savers mode”, a pending nuance of self.
Habitually hibernating
I wandered deep into the abrasions
Of a past let go
By a decade of decadence
And booze
I chose to wallow
In the waters of my own dismay.
A tortured temptress
Condemned by my own tenacity
Tiptoeing in the same circles
Cycles
Of mistrust
For my own inner knowledge
Of self
I felt I had no wealth.
If I had no answers to pour
To the kitchens of the needy
And poor
I became a bore
To include the mindless madness
Of the neighbors that pitied me
Only when I suffered at the lack of a penny.
They found I had many passions
Of which they were lacking
So push came to shove
And a jester I had become
To entertain the weary masses
Who I would beguile
Behind rose kissed glasses
A shade far too kind
For their lack of divine
Tasteless mercenaries
Tactful in remission
I began to beg for permission
A coercion built from
Lack of intuition.
About the Creator
Veronica
I am the moss silken on watered stones, rooted deep in rich soil. Earthen creature, I am the night sky -starry and strayed from the forgotten path of poets - I am, the chatter from the iron rails rattling as the train carries itself home.
Playing Musical Chairs
Many of us can relate to the childhood game of musical chairs. The objective of the game is to find a seat among the chairs laid out in the room before the music finishes. The loser of the game is left standing and excluded from other rounds of the game.
By Michelle Liewabout 15 hours ago in Poets
Comments (1)
I felt this was all over the place it the best kind of way , like being on a wild fairground ride of words. Loved it