+50mg of Zoloft later.
I am a work of art in motion,
The denial of all thoughts or notions,
I am rejecting reality I’m building a new one,
A life filled with thoughts, a life filled with lies,
A life filled with truth, despite the denied,
Attempts that were taken from where I don’t know,
Towards death I am calling, like somber sullen cries,
Alliterated or broken my words will not stop,
Death is the oak tree in the dirt fields,
The gnarled old table tops,
Death is what we fight for even if we see a lot,
What more could you ask of me, what more do you want?
Through death I remember the faces,
of people I cared for long ago,
Through death I remember the fields of my youth,
Their secrets I no longer know.
To Make Things Clearer
I was told some of the things I write are “too simple” I was also told that some of the things I say sound “Dr Suess-ish” Now I’ll allow some solace to seep in by reminding myself that the guy couldn’t even spell “Sues” (Dr Suess)
That being said, the person also complimented (fairly highly) certain bits of the work in question, and went on to say that: “The people reading your poems are morons” <- Or something to this affect.
I won’t fall entirely towards the trap of narcissism but.. I will take that into account. What if I need to say things simply sometimes though? These things I make are entirely narcissistic. I would never deny that!
I am narcissistic
Okay now that that’s out of the way let’s take into account one more thing.. Is it so bad for me to want to feel good about myself for once? Who knows I don’t but I know sure as shit, it feels better to like myself then to not.
So lastly and solely about this poem
(Maybe it’s narcissism that motivates me to have even written it?)
Mr Brownguy, why the fascination with death and destruction? I have to ask you kind reader:
Please reread the last bit of this poem, and think on what I meant for a while. Once you have an answer you can clearly and without any doubt prove to me, I’ll tell you the answer.
For now toodle-loo you crazy kids!