Azwethinkweis

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The Poetry Corner

What It Is To Tame A Lion
 
12am rapid eye movement

cars speed down an instinct interstate
a little slower than they once did;
in the distance, city glow.
here only bad talk radio bathes
coffee stained seats
decorated with cigarette burn mosaics.

9am zombie walk

cattle chatter clatters to the floor,
while yellow light burns tired eyes.
chipper idiots dance to the sound
of a corporate drummer whose
dollars and cents put dents in a man's pride.

6pm microwave dinner dementia

in an aquarium where fish with vibrant colors
swam, now green algae lurks.
dull fish paddle belly up to remind us
of what was.

10pm metropolitan lullaby

cool sheets bring thoughts of better days
that never come. sleep means welcome
departure from cracked ceilings
and train noise tuesdays,
where life comes easy to those
who learn to forget.

Explode into Four
 
this box is lovely
that I made
that you may open up whenever you're lonely
you know, there's nowhere left to go..
you magnify the additives
it correlates the angles
I'm staring in the wrong direction
well take back
when it's time for relief it's so...
it's so hard leaving you...
when shes heretic
my body is a witch
I am burning it
wake up for this wish
and I resonate
I have seen my fate
I am sinking
oh, captian I am sinking
well take back
when it's time for relief it's so...
it's so hard leaving you...
for if I leave your empty smile
explode into four
and on the last I will
for our eyes, one by one
while everybody else could be..
fading out
for all this, for all this
well everybody else could be
saying
for all this, hope for all this, hope for
secrets and irises open the door
to a pride of lions and murder of crows
no one knows how I began
but how Ill end...
you're focused in the reason why
I'm far beneath the answer
you're acting like a separation
well take back
when it's time for relief it's so...
it's so hard leaving you...
for if i leave your empty smile
explode into four
and on the last I will
for our eyes, one by on

Soft Skin on Broken Glass
 
To start writing something true
would you know the difference
would you figure out the mind
the mind of the writer
does he know his own mind
i do not feel he does know
he definitely does not show
any sign that he wants truth
and yet we seek truth
and when we find truth
we wish it were not so
the truth does hurt,...like soft skin on broken glass
will the writer ever get it
will he ever seek what is hidden
those things are hidden from his mind
those things are hidden from our eyes
the pages written filled many books
and they took our books and burned them
it hurts to know
it hurts not to know
truth does not exist perhaps
but the pain sure does,...like soft skin on broken glass

A Nightmare Come True
 
It has been a long day
now it is time to rest
lay down in your bed
with pillow under your head
your eyes open and shut
and open and shut again
when the final closing comes
your mind opens up
a broken mirror in shining light
displays the things you hate
your worst fears come to life
no one to save you; no one to help
no escape
no light
the unknown
such an awful sight
you toss and turn in your bed,
the nightmare has control of your head
no one to save you as you sleep
there is no end that you can see
the dream has ended
a nightmare come true

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