Nostalgia and Pain

Sometimes I just need to flow and rhyme. A few months ago, I started flowing...and I filled a 250 page notebook in a matter of hours. This was page one. :)

So I’m staring at stale pictures

With my mind in disarray.

Just drinking a harsh mixture:

Cold success and hot decay.

 

Oh, the way becomes a question,

And the truth; a foreign dream.

All the answers are confessions

Of hard trips to sick extremes.

 

I keep screaming out a love song,

But it echoes requiem.

This duality is so strong,

It rings like a battle hymn.

 

I am swimming in confusion

As I’m marching off to war

With an army of illusions

And a tired old rusty Ford.

 

Now my sword is fairly flaccid,

And my breath is rather short.

Angry words burn me like acid,

And I’ve lost my thirst for sport.

 

My cracked face is faded talcum,

And my hope is cloaked in dread.

I must close this dusty album

And put it back under my bed.

 

All this splashing and rehashing

Has wrought havoc in my head.

I should halt this mental thrashing,

And just drink until it’s dead.

Author's Note

Darkness is only the absence of light,
Not the pressence of evil.

Reviews

[Emily B]

oh, wow, a whole notebook full of these, that is amazing.

[Cherry Berry]

Beautifully and brilliantly penned. I hung on every line. The flow of your pen is amazing.
xox
Cherri