Jump to content

Welcome to Green Day Community
Register now to gain access to all of our features. Once registered and logged in, you will be able to create topics, post replies to existing threads, give reputation to your fellow members, get your own private messenger, post status updates, manage your profile and so much more. This message will be removed once you have signed in.
Login to Account Create an Account


Oh My Gosh I Wrote a Spoken Word

Posted by Dirntbag , 29 December 2012 · 250 views

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm still needs some tweaking and it's poetry meant to be read aloud by the writer after all, but my voice sounds like a dying walrus so too bad for you you'll just have to read it and pretend. (I tried to punctuate it well so you can sort of read it as I would pause in speech).
The smog from the city,
Wafting so high
With it's humid tendrils reaching buildings that scrape the sky,
Its cigarette smoke from pursed lips,
Dripping with blood
from the words they spit on to pedestrians heads
and stinging her eyes.
It's her eyes,
indebted with sleep
that cause the lids to
sag down onto her cheeks
with a vacancy in them
that could bypass
One million 'occupied' signs
Her eyes;
Eons ago
a quilt of infinite pattern
so wrapped up safe inside,
but it's only a veil,
an ignorant sheild
Liberating her
from the world behind.
Her eyes now crusted with ice but no aura
Encasing the glacial face of someone who once was
but somehow wandered off her path to greatness,
Her icicle eyelashes
Spearing her, sparing her.
Those frozen over tears,
a blizzard in her city of smog and smoke.
This cavernous absence where she used to be;
Still unfilled
but she walks,
like a skeleton already killed
On these freezing streets
that trap her when she cries.
Or in her house that was never a home
She has time to ponder
these thoughts
as she roams.
It's her eyes,
they're a prison now.
She claws them,
rubs them dry,
these godforsaken burdens of weakness
these pathetic hollows where her vision once sat,
her skin rising up in red blotches underneath
she screams.
She doesn't want to see this world anymore,
as she faces her hands,
the veins so grotesque
she finds her fingers
to be frostbitten.

July 2015

   1 2 34

Recent Comments