Will you read this for me, por favor?
i just want some random opinions. I never write poetry, but for some reason I felt like it. It probably doesn’t make sense to you but:
It’s there, pulling up
And up again.
The scrambling rush
It’s just a race that never ends.
Throbbing lights and
Paved by man, gone with steps.
The sky’s a buzz
Holding silence, trotting on
And on again.
The blend turning
And turning again.
The sound has gone,
Has found another light to live by.
The darkness floods
And steals the lead.
An unfair force pressing by
And by again.
But a glow finds a way
And opens the eyes of the unborn,
Seeing all and feeling none.
The cold numbs the brain, the fingertips.
All you can do is watch
And watch again.
Everything pauses: the suffering, the joy
A dam blocks the way.
Familiarity leaves, baring taste, smell, touch.
Open your eyes and see the cracks,
As dawn seeps through the bridge,
Reflecting your face in the infinite ripples.
A foot presses on,
Awakened by the sudden breakthrough.
There’s no finish, no end,
Just a hill to climb and a river to swim
And swim again.
Hold your head, there’s a reason to hear.
The tips of your fingers tug
And tug again.
You long for the senseless, the ways to relate,
But the night will come again
And the stars will light the path.
You fall in the wave and it lifts you up as you turn
And turn again.
Answer by hssnmia
Its really nice.
U should continue Ur writing.
Answer by Joseph
I’m there atop a bridge; maybe I’m only ‘there’ to see the frighteningly mysterious bubbling tribute to humanity and their Gods above the water that I chanced to glance at – I’m here reading my thoughts in emptiness otherwise. Is it a monster lurking there for the sole purpose of annoying me? One that will hop up and pull me under and pull off the same menacing on somebody else just passing by. The hungry rush of the ridiculous days that I had today; through it, the epiphany of an egg breakfast fixed for myself tells me the story of my horoscope that I can’t afford or at least can’t be bothered to read in any of the daily newspapers… I’m probably going to crack and be hungry for more if it serves right for the judgment of my living’s environment.
The music… coming from the inside of a concealed car blaring loudly and obviously by me as I peddle as a cyclist my own wheels… the music reminds me of a tune made by a star musician deceased long ago; I wonder if I’m being harsh on the motorist in some way to help myself ignore the fact that I’m ignored about riding my bike wherever I need to be riding to. I don’t remember what I concluded, but my guess is that it didn’t matter really.
Every time I feel like imagining a menacing beast hiding in the clouds above, I’m compelled to hurl myself down a flight of stairs to calm the beast to my will.
There’s no power to be had over the buzz. Whether or not anyone cares to remember my advice, is not my concern. It’s advice that I politely keep to myself, usually, simply out of respect for the possibility that none other would attempt some of me less genius schemes at living daily. Maybe it’s unfair to be polite, but what does anyone in a world of darkness’ care for my not being able to provide the comforting words that they might need in this world such as it is.
I could read the rest of my own comprehension aloud, but I’d rather just be victimized by the self-explanatory some more, sometimes.
It’s nice, thanks. Very good, really. Bye.
Answer by Bez
I really like this poem. You really don’t write poetry often? You should work on it, it would be a shame to waste this gift.
While I was reading this I was listening to “Rat Race” by Scroobius Pip, my favourite performance poet. For some reason, I felt the two poems went very nicely together. You should have a listen, I think you would relate to his subject matter:
What do you think? Answer below!
Nimble, versatile, analytical, constructive, meticulous and often mimically-gifted Virgo. Your ruling planet is Mercury, your best day of the week is Wednesd…