#135
i sat stupored
as she explained beauty to me,
the unnoticed marks,
the spills, and the scars,
coffee stains on white walls,
it wasn’t her observation,
it had just been so long since
i had seen something as beautiful
as her in awe of something beautiful,
something quiet, something special,
from her eyes to mine,
i sat stunned, too moved to move.
#136
back in the throws
of uselessness, anxiety, indecision,
when nothing is wrong,
nothing is truly agitating
except,
myself,
my own expectations, agendas, and
that haunting nemesis mocking with
the persistent clap of its relentless
marching second hand. Rise yourself,
rally! Can’t you see moments are wasting
and we’re missing them oustandingly?
You preach of honour, and your strength to seize
yet somehow you tumble against gentle
currents? Trampled by cool waves? It’s time to wake up,
please, for God’s sake, do something of note,
at least try.
#137
Ending without optimism,
spinning within the bizarre state,
gripped to mercy by pathetic artificial lusts,
unquenchable gluttony and continual
blinding of the divine eye, i only
sit and criticize myself,
rather then amend as the
filthy plates climb, my teeth
ache, my only exercise is my minding
continually sprinting in circles,
and i’m left panting, winded, exhausted,
from couch to toilet to kitchen, from
Hollywood embellishments to uncomfortable dreams…
And so somehow scribbling garbage will be the solution,
perhaps i am not half of what i like to think myself as.
Perhaps that’s ok.
#138
i wonder. Who can i blame?
Fot myself, right now? Of course,
we know the answer is myself,
and myself alone.
When it all boils down isn’t
blaming myself continuing the cycle
or redundant blame? Am i even looking
for a real solution here or am i
lavishing the torrent of uncomfortable feelings?
“Oh, if only i could get a break.”
“What i would do if i merely had a few hours!”
Well stated young sap, pretending modesty
when you can’t control yourself. If you choose to lie
than lay, break the circle by stillness. Or shatter it all
with astounding action.
#139
Nothing is perfect
and either am i,
a truth,
a promise,
a breath of life
from you to me.
a kiss goodnight,
a kiss good morning,
from me to you,
the gateway between
the waking and the dreams.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write