Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Moronity
His scenery is bleak;
Unimaginable dark
Blackening up his corners.
An empty mind, like
An archeological dig,
It's all dirt and dust.
I felt his sorrow,
Like traffic in my veins.
The slow rise of
Hysteria climbing his throat,
He yells a map
Of frustration.
But no one can hear him.
I pile affection upon him,
Fragile; easy to collapse.
A sand castle of concern
Being ignored.
Left to the romance of the waves.
Spared no expense,
So he's free,
But chained to moronical thought.
I traveled him like a
Road filled with pot holes.
One bump inducing nausea.
A sordid attempt to
Transport him to safety.
And then comes the picnic of fail.
My aching muscles rip.
I cannot carry him the rest of the way.
I leave him to his alienation.
I can move a rock, but
Not if that rock is an island.
8-30-10
Unimaginable dark
Blackening up his corners.
An empty mind, like
An archeological dig,
It's all dirt and dust.
I felt his sorrow,
Like traffic in my veins.
The slow rise of
Hysteria climbing his throat,
He yells a map
Of frustration.
But no one can hear him.
I pile affection upon him,
Fragile; easy to collapse.
A sand castle of concern
Being ignored.
Left to the romance of the waves.
Spared no expense,
So he's free,
But chained to moronical thought.
I traveled him like a
Road filled with pot holes.
One bump inducing nausea.
A sordid attempt to
Transport him to safety.
And then comes the picnic of fail.
My aching muscles rip.
I cannot carry him the rest of the way.
I leave him to his alienation.
I can move a rock, but
Not if that rock is an island.
8-30-10
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Moronity
Moronity
