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Philip Bjorkman Poem
when you ask me how I am,
I don't quite know how to answer.
rather than admitting my life being disastrous,
I parry your thoughtful blow with a joke,
redirecting the question right back at you.
the hypocrite in me revels in my inherent inability to practice what I preach;
instead of allowing my feelings to flow freely,
with utmost consistency I cowardly hide behind line upon line of charcoal-tinted ink,
posing rhetorical questions,
to mask my own grief.
it'll be the day when I at last admit to being clueless,
my existence mixing Atlas with Sisyphus;
forever rolling a boulder up the incline,
just to have it fall back down,
carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Copyright © Philip Bjorkman | Year Posted 2021
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Details |
Philip Bjorkman Poem
beyond the beach
where electric currents fail to reach
sands of time rise high
on waves depicting you and I.
we carry the beat of a different sound.
your face
one of innocence
your wistful smile the bow
to break right through my hurting surface
intrepidly imperfect
re-adding color and purpose
making sense of
the mono-chromatic prism of my heart to which
I am forever bound
imprisoned
encased in ice.
lost at sea
through jagged cliffs you safely
guide me back to shore
back home
back to life.
Copyright © Philip Bjorkman | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Philip Bjorkman Poem
amidst panic and chaos I'm soaring in orbit,
miles upon miles above earth's surface,
far distanced from sickness and hardships,
deplorable wars and racial injustice,
all I can see is one planet united,
and land without borders
one side blessed with light,
the other set in darkness,
one half full of blue skies,
one adorned with radiating night-time neon lights,
and endless starry wonders
from deep blue seas to celadon forests,
mountains steep,
volcanoes seething with heat,
windswept plains alive in the wake of dust amassing behind galloping horses,
we all feel the same joy,
the same pain,
yet we do our best to ignore it.
looking down from my spaceship it seems silly at best;
the conquest for power at other's expense,
but then, again, getting along has and will always be boring
Copyright © Philip Bjorkman | Year Posted 2021
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