outdoors' son
asphalt
Posts: 113
We needed a house with doors
Walls impervious to souls,
Folks retained in rooms
As safe as dungeon
Convicted for bonds so bored
I shook his hand, 2 men
Confronting their roles
Unaware like a distant cousin
But pretty much a son now, choosing his road
Leaving the reasons alone
Peace is quiet, as freedom mourns
Few detach from a taste of temptation
Distributed like chocolates to whores
I chase no bait in particular
Now hunger ignored.
I found my shoes outside home
Walls impervious to souls,
Folks retained in rooms
As safe as dungeon
Convicted for bonds so bored
I shook his hand, 2 men
Confronting their roles
Unaware like a distant cousin
But pretty much a son now, choosing his road
Leaving the reasons alone
Peace is quiet, as freedom mourns
Few detach from a taste of temptation
Distributed like chocolates to whores
I chase no bait in particular
Now hunger ignored.
I found my shoes outside home
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
I have to read them a few times to figure them out and I enjoy that!
NOTE: Everything I write in the P,P&M section are intended to be songs, not poetry.
i agree justam .. my thoughts and poems are usually fragmented .. i've felt it myself too ..
thanks for the read!
to discuss
in prose this habit is a serious handicap ... i wonder if poems need to be well structured or not ..
perhaps ..... poems can be categorised as well under different styles like music.......
maybe pieces like this can be stacked as 'impulsive or feverish' ....
(btw .... it was written really fast)
thanks again!
I think a small burst of something impulsive and feverish seems to work well as a container for a feeling and a moment.
I remember learning in music history that the compositional constant of the 20th century was the lack of uniformity in form...the variety of compositional styles and tonal collections being used was so varied.
So, maybe that's part of being modern? Just about anything can be tried?