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Perspektif Mc/Poetry Poem
Stuck down here in hell with barely ink left in my pen.
All my blood has been drained, I cannot refill it again.
I’ve done this countless times,
As you can see my reality attached to the words in my rhymes.
And when I pretend, they say read the signs.
Only real MC’s and Poets allowed in these fabricated times.
Stuck down here in hell with barely ink left in my pen
And pages refusing to be filled with gems.
How can my soul comprehend this
When it’s goal is to extend bliss
And despair, letting the world know it exists there.
Through letters birthing words,
Handing down sentences to stanzas that compete
Therefore verses each other on white backgrounds with guidelines,
Hoping to guide my mind to channel complete thought onto sheet,
In these trying times,
As I struggle trying to rhyme.
Stuck down here in hell with barely ink left in my pen.
Struggling to find a canvas
On which to brand this emotion that bottle up like champers.
I just put that word there ‘cause it rhymed
But that’s the madness I find in these times when my mind
Is inspired beyond comprehension.
But yet can’t script a measly comprehension
Or a decent 8 bar verse making me loose comprehension,
On why I bought this pen, what was the intention?
Stuck down here in hell with barely ink left in my pen.
Barely thinking again since the plaster on the wall cracked
Due to constant forehead contact.
Damn! I have to get these thoughts out somehow.
Might as well crack open my skull and see what’s on my mind,
‘Cause nothing seems to help to free these lines.
My freedom of expression has been incarcerated
On a charge of writer’s block,
Judged by the fact that I didn’t write a lot.
Neglecting the pen as if it wasn’t heaven sent.
From ink blot to poetry spots,
I’m hell bent on closing up shop.
I’m stuck down here in hell with barely ink left in my pen
And this hell is hot, burning my life’s purpose daily,
I’m forgetting what is Zen.
Loved one’s then comment that it will blow over or pray to Jehovah.
However I’m like a drunken lost but I’m sober
And my pride won’t let me cry on somebody else’s shoulder.
With a blank expression I’d rather stare at a blank page,
Gripping a pen that used to be my sage
As we carved beauty into paper that oozes love and rage.
It seems to be a distant memory from another age.
Now I’m stuck down here in hell and the ink has run out.
And the pen is worthless as it was in the beginning,
‘Cause it was never about the pen,
Always about my ink flowing into something with meaning.
Copyright © Perspektif Mc/Poetry | Year Posted 2008
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Details |
Perspektif Mc/Poetry Poem
Captured in shades of haze and hue
Vintage texture or bright as sky blue
Picture perfect Polaroid preserve present to past
Your eye captures the truth that will forever last
Free… clicking away, no boundaries set
But contents captured in frames and boundaries met.
You caught my frame of mind
In many frames of rhyme,
Solitude, love confined,
Memory held captive in a frame on a pedestal of mine.
But still, I see stills of past times when I lay obediently still
To your request for mannequin movement;
Pose.
Setting to capture at future point of capture,
Jumping into shot before shutter closed, Snap!
Captured.
In shades of haze and hue
Vintage texture or bright as sky blue
Picture perfect Polaroid preserve present to past
Your eye captures the truth that will forever last
You trying to make contact with what’s beyond the lens,
I zoomed into your life beyond the contact of mere friends
And zoomed out to see the surroundings blend
Into your beauty, not theirs, How does Mother Nature comprehend
Picturesque mountainous terrain,
Firefly lit against the window that darkness cannot contain.
Gravel roads unravel loads of history, colourful yet plain.
Travelled souls, now photos told of memories gained.
Captured in shades of haze and hue
Vintage texture or bright as sky blue
Picture perfect Polaroid preserve present to past
Your eye captures the truth that will forever last
Copyright © Perspektif Mc/Poetry | Year Posted 2008
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