Interior Poems - Poems about Interior

Abandoned Hope

Graciousness forms 
the apparel of the meek,
tempered in blistering 
hues of aura crafted
with the breath of 
exhaustion sinking 
deep into the soul
of the soulless,

there it wanders 
with eyes open wide,
a pop of life silenced
by its surroundings,
forsaken lands filled
with despotic nature,
crucified 
their interior along
with their exterior,

proceeding cautiously 
as it gravitates
toward the center,
connecting humble
origins placing 
the palm

The Fanch-Interior with Women

Standing on my head
looking up at the trees
and the sparkling sky

When it’s dark I don’t see
the ship float by nor
the tsunami sea

Upside-down women
on either side
of cotton candy eventide

When the light’s bright
palms and ferns come to life
tickling my soles

and I am able 
to rearrange the houseplants
with my toes

How much harder it is
to apprehend the tossed high

An Interior Mechanism

Since childhood,
as alexithymia struck my soul.
I kept all my hopes a secret,
hidden in a bucket of unshared dreams.

I kept my soul sweet like marshmallows,
but life has finally caught up with me,
Like a fast car overtaking recklessly,
leaving me behind in the slow lane -
and I'm running out of fuel.

I'm a vehicle of flashbacks from flashlights,
fatigued from

An Interior Mechanism

On the inside of the doohickey
is the cogwheel thingamajig.
And that thingamajig keeps the thingy working well.
It turns and cranks and circles around and round
like the second hand on an analog face clock.

On the inside of the workspace office
are the people that run the show,
and even if they have the most expensive of mechanisms
will be a

An Interior Mechanism

In the opaque night of agony across the extant landscape
I take the ordained journey forsaken,
the track out of travail through the illusive time I lose 
in the tortuous dismal tangle of torment.

Introspection unshackles me out of the abyss of despair  
for the inward travel through the layers of consciousness, 
where the soul perceives the

An Interior Mechanism

There are no cogs, springs, wheels, or gears inside of me.
I'm a flawed human whose mind and heart often disagree.
I don't have parts, interior mechanisms like those inside a clock.
but if my heart makes a decision, my mind puts up a roadblock.
There's no symbiosis between them, nor a willingness to agree.
Each day is a struggle

An Interior Mechanism

"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe," ... Carl Sagan

Subtle crafts soundly, using euphemisms,
yet cluelessness dealt a sheltered abyss.
When one confront internal mechanisms,
whatchamacallit ... orphaned hit-or-miss.

A conundrum conspires an endowed soul,
behooves postmortem liken achievement.
Where'er wits helix baptism, buried hole,
an urchin crawlspace, be I foundling sent.

Newborn bid

First To Fall

O canc'rous creature enmeshed within me,
Thou art first - yes, the worst - capital fault.
You won't work in shadows - others must see,
Yet you hide in plain sight while you assault -

The crystalline castle you seek to break;
Any light that's not yours is blasphemy!
Collect ugly sins ne'er claiming them fake.
But they're part of your twisted

The Ulterior For the Interior

If your motives are ulterior,
Then, hatch them in The Interior
Where the Blame-Worthy is senior 
And the Praise-Worthy junior;
But your gain: Satan’s hysteria,
In hospitals Fresh Diphtheria,
The Ulterior makes The Inferior
Hardly, The Ulterior superior:
The by-nature meant for the rear, 
Coastal regions and ones by a ria 
Welcoming Sacrifice to Fear…

If your motives aren’t The Ulterior,
Yourself produce at

Inferior Is My Interior

At rock-bottom is my self-image
I dejectedly walk on life-road
My own self I often disparage
And so carry mentally a heavy load
I try to build up enough courage
But I am unable to find a mode
Deep regrets, my thoughts keep
Steep agony in life I ever reap
Peep into my mind to know I weep
Why is gloom in my custody
Known

Interior

Interior

Preparação interior
é tudo;
para tudo 
– do negócio ao amor;
está no seu interior
a única bússola verdadeira.
 
Acima de tudo,
escute a bússola 
de seu coração,
tudo o que você precisa
PARA TUDO, 
tudo mesmo 
está dentro de você
a força para fazer
mais e mais.

Consultora.

The Art of Patient Waiting

THE ART OF PATIENT WAITING


The art of waiting only comes eventually
After days to decades of practical practice
Staying in limbo, whether still or pacing:
As looking down the line of tracks for 
An awaited train; as in a stretched-neck 
Waiting to merge into traffic; like gauging the run
Of a line by counting the number of people
Ahead; and

Manic Depression By John Lars Zwerenz

MANIC DEPRESSION

There is a well of blackened brine, 
That knows no dell of air or sunshine, 
A volatile fire, it consumes the heart, 
The mind, the spirit, it rends apart.
And when the hell spawn is loosened in the night, 
Beneath the mad moon, bereft of hope, and stripped of light, 
The long, corridor where candles

My Interior

i recently realized i can love someone until i love myself
i need to make one thing about me and put my heart on the high shelf 
as much as you make me happy i need to learn to love my body
and i can’t keep making you my only single hobby
everything about you consumes me, you

The Interior Landscape

The interior landscape

Here in the landscape of bushes and crippled trees
silence speaks of the final peace.
Grotesque dead trees with grey boughs stretching upward
appealing to a fairytale God: 
“Give us today a new life.”
There is only one god with many names
you can`t trust him to hear your whisper in the wind.
Those who do not understand this

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