Every dream is flawed

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  • nastipatzi
    nastipatzi Posts: 4
    heeeeeeeeeeeeh!!!!!
  • Buru
    Buru Posts: 8,473
    Originally posted by nastipatzi
    heeeeeeeeeeeeh!!!!!


    Pasta Nazi and nastipatzi ... 2 in one is this? :D
    As am I, and sometimes more
    One body, too many minds :p
    y la banda de Guille... cuando toca?
  • rollings
    rollings unknown Posts: 7,127
    edited January 2016
    Buru said:

    She was born some time after than I was
    In those akward years
    Of blushes and discarded dolls
    The pretty coloured dresses
    In piles on the floor,
    A vision of ensuing chaos...
    As the rocking horse
    Rocked on its own,
    No one to ride him now
    The corners called
    Come...come here
    To be forgotten
    Come...come here
    We will find you a new home...


    She was a quiet person
    A beautiful portrait
    Of soft demure
    And soothing words
    For everyone but me.
    She liked to question every thought
    And think about every question...
    Invading doubts
    Never gave me rest
    Overconscious and too wrapped up
    In herself
    To notice the world living
    Outside her window
    Outside her mind...


    From time to time a reaching arm
    Would find its way across long hallways
    inhabited by echoes and smoke
    It would emerge from the thick bramble
    Bearing scars of prickly caresses
    And is she worth it?
    I wonder... She wonders...
    For one brief second we agree
    Put an end to this dichotomy
    As plums still rot in plum trees
    And night follows day follows night
    As questions still remain unanswered
    And somehow she still lives on
    Even years after she was born...


    If I had the strength
    I would kill her
    I would wrestle the air out of her
    Till she squirmed no more
    And watch her blue and bloated
    Lying lifeless on the floor
    Watch as one watches
    An interesting insect
    That's carrying more load
    It can carry on its own.
    A martyr, a lost soul...
    From the day she was born
    A nightmare, a burden
    And far too heavy a load.


    The rocking-horse still beckons
    Come...come play once more
    we can turn back the time
    If we rock hard enough..
    We can kill the blackness in her
    The doubts and self-control,
    Bring forth the beauty dormant
    That has yet to glow
    Break away from this prison
    Break away and run
    To lands of fields ripe and gold
    And if plums still rot in plum trees
    We won't mind at all...
    For every dream is flawed.

    every poem is flawed dream
    Post edited by rollings on
  • JWPearl
    JWPearl Posts: 19,893
    Dogs remain dogs

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