navwin » Archives » Open Poetry #49 » Snowflake
Open Poetry #49
Post A Reply Post New Topic Snowflake Go to Previous / Newer Topic Back to Topic List Go to Next / Older Topic
RedStoneEB
Senior Member
since 2003-06-08
Posts 772
uk

0 posted 2015-03-10 10:21 AM


Isn’t it funny how the kindest minds’ seem destroyed by starvation,
not the type that requires the hysterical to eat in fast paced actions--
of forking in the waste that will release’ nor seeing that they have become
second nature'd.

Forgetting how to expand, explore, be uncertain’ too ashamed to step out
their mental doors’ into the burning streets of ancient lore-- for when we
look around, the past is written in the walls’ they like machinery serving no
purpose’ but maintaining what it is that is set within them.

While I speak of kindest minds’ those that see the staggering lumps of masses
piling up in need’ help me! help me! through the hallucinating stares of eyes
seeing nothing more than themselves’ once helped they go on their way patched
like clockwork dolls, mended by illuminated logic-- but knowing verse does not
make one a scholar’ for once the verse has done its course and another verse required
the mind shall suffer more and what universities will they travel to, what obscene
little corner of a darkened shadow will they tread within, to obtain another dose--
fill me up, take me in, lace up the mind as if it were a arm on crack’ left in with the
cool eyes staring into the dirt’ but seeing heaven.

And thoughts fill with intense thoughts of angels soaring inverted down into the
piles of grasping hands wanting a piece of heavenly token’ listening to them plead
with fires in their belly for hunger is on their tongues’ these rotten minds so ripened
they've burst the seams’ you see them! you've seen them! them, take a stroll to the
place where reductions are placed how their fling themselves like bison's to the promised
land-- where all but is green and full of plenty’ and see them scatter like rats’ unseen into
the cracks and holes and narrow gaps, into the feeders, into the corners, into the shadows
never really going anywhere but that place of solitude.

They mutter laying motionless in a world of fluid time and passing-- yet there is movement
in the minds leaping forth into that space that sought’ why, why, why... isn't that on the lips
pressed against the roof of the mouth drying up any hopes and replacing them in fears,
if not fear then stillness, trying to blind that which is the human-self-- trying to tear out the feelings
whilst the vibrations of want roars across the surface as if a drop of water returning to the puddle
spreading out to greet its missed companions’ and to see the sun is like a warmth of contempt
saying this is what it was to feel, this is the traffic light on amber, for we never really reach out
to green, always stopping on red.

The voices stirring from the bed, to the streets, to another head. Passing jargon speaking of
the weather, speaking of the time, speaking of the many things that rhyme and do not rhyme,
just the need to talk and talk of nothing, just the need to be continuously chatting, about a pain,
about another, about the objects that litter the places like garbage tossed into a neat pile--
cracking along the edges the mind pours its jukebox of songs ready to sing’ for we always seem
to find our voice when broken, skipping, charred and alive for pain brings it out in us, to scream!
and shout and bash the walls! break me more! break me more!!! take what little is left of me.

escapism as a snowflake waiting to melt.

© Copyright 2015 Lee Hepworth - All Rights Reserved
devina
Member Elite
since 1999-10-28
Posts 3539
Cali
1 posted 2015-05-10 09:47 AM


Escapism, defined. and deeply at that
This piece sunk me in somber throughout, you have penned some really, really great lines!

Escapism is a mental diversion that I completely relate to. Enjoyed this!

~d

Open arms can be the most fragile in the world...



AmyMichelle
Junior Member
Posts 21
Charlotte, NC
2 posted 2015-05-13 10:31 AM


"cracking along the edges the mind pours its jukebox of songs ready to sing’ for we always seem
to find our voice when broken, skipping, charred and alive for pain brings it out in us, to scream"

Where do I even begin with this piece of writing? Such deep emotional thinking behind this...felt every word. I picked the above lines as they stood out the most for me. Pain can do many things. Above all it can make us find a strength we never knew we had. Really loved this piece!

True love always waits.

Post A Reply Post New Topic ⇧ top of page ⇧ Go to Previous / Newer Topic Back to Topic List Go to Next / Older Topic
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.
navwin » Archives » Open Poetry #49 » Snowflake

Passions in Poetry | pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums | 100 Best Poems

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary