Compulsions to create governed by fear and perpetual query,
Where affirmations are fossil fuels, scarce and costly.
Approval? Qualified? I Dangle upside-down, tethered to a rope questions.
Hovering over a pit of acceptance with a bloated cranium.
A pause in their scroll…
The press of a gesture nibbles away the rejuvenating thread.
How can a dozen feel worse than none?
These little thumbs, those filled-in hearts, these perverted numbers.
The lack of something accumulates, forming a dam even beavers would envy.
Obstructing a river of creative juices that quench the thirst of unfulfillment.
To overcome, to not care. These two rarely coexist.
Perhaps shifting the care could break the levy.
Not what they think, but I, and what laser could separate the two?
The strategy brings hope to a mind battered by rejection.
That’s right, Destroyer of Motives! Disguiser of Truths!
I will get up and press that power button, double-click that software, and create.
Not for whoever they are, but for me.
So, blast the damns and let it flow!
Who knows, maybe they like it..
Categories:
disguiser, art, growth, journey, perspective,
Form: Free verse
Takes At Least Two To Love
Not only am I much older and wiser
I have become a pretty good disguiser
Of what I am thinking and how I feel
Can you imagine me having sex appeal?
Oh come on now didn't you realize
That I had caught you by surprise
Who me enter my poem in a contest
Many people my poem they would detest.
So eventually soon you will catch on
A great cruise is where I have gone
Which was best one in my whole life
Ended up taking mother instead of wife.
Did you know so similar they are both are
Whether standing up close or way out far
Which one most would I have missed?
Each one of them is actually a ventriloquist.
Both sides of their mouths can talk out of
And they do have different kinds of love
When I was in search of the missing link
I had ended up finding female instinct.
For a while longer each one did linger
Until I was wrapped around their little finger
And now I will always say to this very day
All females end up having their own way.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Number 1,400
Can you imagine by a 74 year old idiot poet like me.
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/takes_at_least_two_to_love_698199
Categories:
disguiser, humorous,
Form: Couplet