A bit of a continuation of my passion for beat/slam poetry. Read out loud if you please. |
Racks of spices Entice those bored by life with their Subtle And Supple Aromas, Each one Feeling Around The air space Within a human nostril. Adrenaline-charged teenagers Are immune to such Weak Sources of Energy. "I'll join a commune!" Yells a silver-spoon sweetheart Fresh out of her freshman year of college. She lacks the knowledge Required To fully assess the implications Of such a situation. Her center of gravity Has been punctured. It resembles the cavity in her back molar. "My goodness, Katie!" Yells the dentist, "Your mouth is full of bullshit! I think we should schedule another visit Perhaps you should step down from that fantastical pulpit And look around a bit. Because the world is spinning round And round And round, Yet you continue to wear that long frown. What is it that's bringing you down? The world isn't so bad. After all your dad is an iron-clad lawyer And you have such a nice family. Your life is such a thrill! Don't you understand that there are people who would kill, and I mean kill, for your life? And here you stand, Claiming that you're battling bouts of depression. There is no oppression in your life! The Man isn't after you. Your neighborhood's quiet. The houses in mine are painted flashing Shades of blue and red. Don't you get it? My brother's dead. Some man shot him in the head. And ever since then I haven't even gotten out of bed. But you wouldn't know what it's like to be dead inside would you? You wake up to blue skies. No matter how low you feel You can sleep tight knowing you got the better end of the deal. How could you know what I'm going through? Sure our pills are blue But I'm stuck here like glue. However I suppose it's true That the blueness Of our uplifting medicaments Matches And Meshes Our Bedroom Walls Together Forever. |