“We grow to give new meaning to old words” - Jessica (podcast speaker)
New poems encapsulated modern day struggles but no struggle hasn’t been heard of before.
Poems are time capsules that were never dated.
They were buried in the past but remain intact in the present.
Poem: Our masquerade with the plague
Title: Our masquerade with the plague
Our masquerade with the plague,
Dancing six feet away,
Not to tread on someone’s day.
Kisses are now the devils PAYG (Pay As You Go).
Futuristic I guess,
But he still reaps what he sows.
Welcoming death by cake,
For we have many tiers of it.
Layered and frosted with the cold.
We’re all dancing to a frozen song,
Let it go,
But listen for what goes on.
All the achoos and the bless yous,
And the thank yous for the tissues.
The virtues for the curfews,
And the subdues going cuckoos.
And the confused feeling defused,
Being unused socially bemused.
Our party is full of malarkey,
We’ve been set up to fall.
However the clock has stroke 12,
At our bleak beaking ball.
Time to go home,
Time to tell your kids a tale,
A brothers Grimm,
One with death and prevail.
Poem: Moon face
You scare me,
With your face like the moon.
It turns like an owl,
And stares with a loom.
Your greetings are invites,
And your words spoken like a tale.
You can’t be real,
A human so pale.
Not by completion but by complexity,
A drawing of what a person could be.
Your a mystical creature,
Far from this land.
But your nice enough,
With gentle hands.
I can forgive your solemn face,
Because your heart ticks with grace.
Come with me,
We can escape this foreign place.
Neither you or I belong to this race,
We are part of people in space.
There’s a numbness in my body like a dead leg,
It comes from my heart and messes with my head.
I try to feel the real me,
Through harm and through pleasure.
I’ve been hurt so many times,
I just stand in bad weather.
The scratches feel like kisses.
My body a temple,
With only devils who enter,
I dust away the grooms.
No suitable matches,
In this chapel that looms,
An eirie cry of lonely tunes.
I turn away from help,
My cries just go straight to hell,
Nobody bothers with the lies they tell,
Otherwise they risk falling under my spell.
The crashing of unwashed dishes piled upon my sink,next to my bed, they really stink.
So do I nowerdays when I don’t step foot in the shower, because all is there is a mathmat as chewed up as chowder.
My clothes make up the carpet, I can barely see what was there before.
My underwear making appearances around the corner of every door.
My sheets haven’t been changed in weeks and my pillows covered in dread.
The cleaning cub board untouched it’s been solidified by spiders web.
I really don’t feel like cleaning my house, having a shave or walking about.
I just want to lay in my sorrows until the day passes by and do the same tomorrow until the day that I die.
I’m not a bad person,
I do feel what you feel.
It’s just unusual to unreel,
The emotions that I feel.
I want to show you I care,
But all I do is stare.
Wondering why your speaking bare,
I don’t understand touch,
Why it’s necessary,
Are words not enough.
For me to ask how you are,
Is a blank question.
Cause you’ll respond,
With human convention.
Tell me what you want,
I’m no good with lies.
It’s more puzzling for me,
Than games of spies.
I magnify what your trying to tell,
But I’m in so deep,
I fall under a spell.
I can’t turn away,
My mind in another realm,
Trying to make sense of your show and tell.
Poem: Mothers Grave
I see the dark as I open my eyes,
I dream of clear blue skies.
I see Gouls and goblins of the human kind,
Scary thoughts pop up inside.
My inner thoughts have demons,
But I push them far away.
To another land,
For them to stay.
They will never get me,
For I am hidden in a secret place.
In the warmth of my mother’s arms,
In her resting place.
I am trapped.
Locked away from the world,
No one can hear my screams,
From the underworld.
I can hear faint crying,
Above the grave.
The tread of a man,
With a worn out spade.
I’d like to be let out now,
I’ve changed my mind.
My mother’s warmth,
Has slowly died.
She left me a bony kiss,
An indent of heavenly bliss.
I am forever here now,
Encased in my own remiss.
One of the best poets if not THE best
of course it was my humble opinion.
I only listened a few but I realized that you are very special, at least, fitting my taste.
I am listening to “Angels in love” ...