secret poems

A Poem by The Artist

I walk in shackles
My life seems in shambles
Why have you forced me in monetary confinement?
I am not the only one
It had been this way since time begun
No one shall speak
All shall argue for success
If there is no money
you are looking down the barrel of a gun
But I must address
My idea of success is something known as
Sweet happiness
The life of the artist is what surrounding nature strives to kill
That in itself fills my misery
But i walk in shackles
And I am connected to written expression

Chaotic Zoo

Baboons blasting blaring nonsensical But me blasting blaring my nonsensical Something so alien

They fear pain from ones pain
I can’t help my brain Something so alien

I am no monkey
I am no monkey
I don’t want bananas

I want spaceships
And papers written in shit
Something so alien

I surrender
I am a monkey
No im not
Im an alien
Little golden dreams gleams in
The sparkle eyes of a young kin

And I commit
Subconsious Societial Suicide

The Silence of a Perpetual Melody

Fingers run down his hips Like the rushing rivers of red through her veins Both rejoicing with knotted fingers and crescent lips

Lung’s soft blow mixes with the rhythm of pounding hearts Composing a symphony only heard by tender souls A harmony with four parts

He weaves his fingers through her hair As if it was Apollo’s harp Shredding a love song, tainting heavens divine air

Two souls come together and mend Hand entwined with hand As he sang to her
this would never end

But soon his frequency soars, and the sound wave unrolls Their bones untangle, only connected by the strings of their souls

Break Up

Out poured a rhapsody from his mouth
But water to my ears
I feel
Nothing leaves my mouth.
He speaks one more sentence
An attack
And it is venomous
My veins run black
Who is he to speak as the serpent
Why do we feel
Why do we act
It is the heart that can't heal
It is the heart that we cant conceal
Days age my mind
Threachory festers like rats riddled with plague
The strings of time get messy in a wind
It grows like cancer
I ask questions but I know the wicked answer
Our time has ended.
My body shall leave but my soul remains
Scavenging the dreams of what can be
It pulls me back