i was born at a time
when the clocks were all wrong
the hands
the faces
the numerals
all sped up
standing still
the day
begrudgingly bled
into the inevitable night
a fat gloating night
of surprises
and the like
all the wavy walls
and the crazy on the ceiling
endless long beige halls
and a hazy not well feeling
a hurricane of stillness
blew thru that place
a merciful curse
and from there
to here
the bad and the worse
pre loved half-truths
become a play for a day
and the next
and the next
a wilted sunbeam
landed upon a crooked sill
it stood forlornly
and in the cracked paint
a moment of peace?
perhaps
About the Creator
Brenton F
It's just a token of my extreme - Frank Zappa
- - -
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Comments (6)
Fabulous descriptions- Hurricane of stillness Wilted sunbeam on crooked windowsill 🤔 a surprising poem with hidden meanings
Love the flow of words
I felt my emotions flowing with the waves on this one. <3 Wonderful work, as always!
Lovely piece :)
Beautiful writing as always.
Your words evoke contemplation and resonate with us, thank you for sharing this thought-provoking piece, love your works, hope to read more, subscribed.