My Random Poetry Pt. 3

March 9, 2018
Uniform
Isn’t It Simple
Being
In Uniform
Line By Line
Marching
Why Be Different When
You Can Be
In Uniform
In One
In The Same
A Segment
Of Who You Really Are
Isn’t It Easy
To Hide
In Uniform
To Strip Yourself
Of Everything You Are
Slowly Dying Inside
But You Can’t Show It
Because This IS Normal
And If You Don’t Like It
Then You Must Not Be
Imagine
Imagine coming
to the place that you haven’t been
in years. The people welcome you back with open arms, but something
isn’t right about their
faces.
Imagine coming
to the place that used to be
full of happiness but is now as barren as a ghost town,
minus the usual dusty
tumbleweeds.
Imagine walking
into the church and attending mass but
everyone seems to be trying to distract you from something over there.
and you can’t help
exploring.
Imagine entering
the old graveyard and walking through the
gloomy rows of graves but something there seems to haunt your mind.
I hear her voice
somewhere…
Imagine running
to her family plot and seeing a
headstone that just happens to read her last name, and desperately skimming
the list before seeing
it.
Imagine reaching
it, desperate, crying, no, that’s not it,
that can’t be it, it’s my fault. And imagine shouting from the
ground, Why did I
leave?
Imagine falling
to the ground. Crying, Why’d she leave?
desperately wanting her back, but somehow, you know that she’s gone. And
she is never coming
back.
Mirror
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who’s that person down the hall?
Treading softly, eyes ablaze,
staring at the sullen wall.
Mirror, mirror in my hand,
who’s that person who doth stand
weeping as they mark the wall
with a doleful person’s brand?
Glass Bubbles
The fire roars
And the molten glass bubbles
But the gaffer is not shaken
He dips his
Looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong
Pipe into the
Pot of gooey liquid
And when he pulls it out, a little glob is stuck on the end
He blows into his pipe
The little glob of melted wonder enlarging until a big bubble is present
Almost floating
Almost loose
Almost gone
Yet it cools rapidly as the gaffer
Smooths out the curves and
Rounds out the edges
Soon more glass bubbles appear
Looking like they’ll fly away too
But they don’t
Because no matter how much
Glass bubbles
Want to leap into the air
They’ll always solidify too quickly to
Fly
synesthesia
they
mumble
and she hears
soft
she strokes
a dog’s fur
and she feels
golden
she spies
a lake
and she sees
sweet
she eats
ice cream
and she tastes
perfume
she sniffs
a flower
and she smells
piano
and the cycle continues
until she’s run out of
noises to feel
textures to see
colors to taste
foods to smell
aromas to hear