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Jolly Figs Poem
When we first met here, it didn’t have such a dead feeling like it does now. This place used to have a soul, it used to be alive. Now it stands alone like a nameless grave. Forgotten and empty. Isn’t it funny? A place that once made me so happy, now feels like I’m walking into an angry cellmate’s prison cell, waiting to get shanked in the heart repeatedly. I walk past what used to be our favorite wooden roller coaster which is now rundown and rusty. It’s in shambles; parts of it are not even intact. The broken half of the wooden roller coaster looks as if it’s trying to reach out to the other piece that has fallen apart to become connected and complete again, but the overgrown vines keep them apart. I finally stop walking to look up to admire what has become of this thing that now reminds me of a torture device from a scene from the movie Saw. Just as I thought, looks worse than it did before and each day it begins to look more and more like an old woman who needs help standing up. As I stand here my mind begins to play tricks on me. My focus is now shifted from the wooden roller coaster to ground level of the vacant theme park. From a distance I see him and I laughing together, looking at each other as if that was exactly where we wanted to be and nowhere else. Then my mind starts to flicker the scene on and off like a light bulb, kind of teasing me saying “now you see it, now you don’t.” When my mind does this, I know what’s going to happen next. This scene that I’m watching from afar will soon be put into my imaginary basement of haunting memories for me to save for another dreary walk in our now least favorite theme park.
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2012
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Jolly Figs Poem
I live in this cell with my self-hatred
How I was raised makes me feel so isolated
These are not my thoughts or feelings for that matter
But I still feel as if I’m an ugly house that will never flatter
Even if you were to fix me
I’d still have some screws loose
I’d rather you knock me down
And tighten up my noose
Because my personality is too obtuse….
For you to understand
Until then, I’ll wait in the gallows
Waving my right hand
Trying to find a way out
Because I can’t tie a noose like you can…
It’s depressing to think that I possess this body that I can’t stand
Everyone that I love and meet will never truly know who I am
Because the face that I show is a total scam
So, For the time being I’m stuck in this body
This mind...
This soul...
I’ll forever be tortured in this blood stained hell hole.
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2012
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Jolly Figs Poem
Used to be an individual
now I'm just a complex number
stripped away from my own individuality
made me uncomfortably wake from my
slumber.
Used to be a boy wonder.
I was living the life.
Didn't think I'd get sucked under,
didn't think I'd end up wanting to kill myself
with a hunting knife.
My wrongful deeds have made me feel as if I'm living in a
dreadful still life picture,
wishing someone would look at me
and reconsider and view me as a normal fixture.
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2013
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Jolly Figs Poem
You're a lover boy
Devouring arsenic
No more pretty face
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2013
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Jolly Figs Poem
Battle scars, bleeding
Knocked up wombs from inbreeding
Join hands "God's children"
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2013
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Jolly Figs Poem
It’s so hard to start
It’s so hard to finish
It feels as if all that you've accomplished will someday be diminished
And it won’t matter if you become somebody some day
Because someone will easily take your place
Steal your ideas
And make a living off you, THEIR way
It’s sad but true
Every mutha f**ka
Will take a piece of your mind
and will somehow ultimately f**k you
not physically but mentally
making you think
you’re not one of a kind
their getting all the fame
while everyone leaves you behind
leaving you to feel like a failure
people telling you to talk to God,
he’ll have the answer
I pray, looking up at the ceiling
Hoping he’ll will give me a reason….
To keep going on with my life and my ideas
But all I’m left with are clones of my feelings
Washed up on canvases with some else’s fake veneers
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2012
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Jolly Figs Poem
He sits in his cell
with his guitar and his songs
his skin and his ink
his pain and his thoughts
He dreams of his freedom
but it seems to far to grasp
so, he sits in his cell
and waits till the days pass
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2012
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Jolly Figs Poem
We all suffer at the hands of another
wish we could see it's not our fault
but our mother's.
Praying to the wall
it'll make you feel better
I won't stand for that ********
won't even pray for a brother.
For there's no such thing as a God
but sorrow and hate
We,us humans, **** one another
to incriminate
our fears and losses.
we're our own devils in disguise
wearing upside down crosses.
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2013
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Jolly Figs Poem
When I look in the mirror
I see two faces
sometimes I feel like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are staring back at me
One look is more evil than the other.
"Which one is me?" I whisper to myself.
Mr. Hyde winks at me and gives me this big huge smile, showing his fangs.
If looks could kill, it would be this one.
Then my attention is drawn to my charming Dr. Jekyll's stare, who is trying to win me over. I notice that there's a competition going on here.
One face screams "You're Dr. Jekyll!" while the other one shouts louder, yelling "Don't listen to him, you're Mr. Hyde!"
It's as if there are two other people in the room. Each one right beside me, pulling me in the opposite direction of where each one wants to go.
I'm afraid that if they pull a little bit more harder, they'll end up ripping apart my insides.
Taking a piece of me along with them as they flee and go off to destroy somebody else's body and mind.
"Please, don't let that happen" I say out loud, looking up at the bathroom ceiling as if someone or something is up above me, listening.
"I don't know who I'd be without them."
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2012
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Jolly Figs Poem
She was known by many, but only existed to some.
In her world she was invisible.
She was seen but suddenly forgotten.
Many nights she dragged her heart across the crowded streets of New York City, watching strangers stomp on what was valuable to her.
No one ever noticed, or was kind enough to pick it up off up the ground for her.
She would sometimes yell into the street and turn to the person walking beside her
“Can you help me piece back my heart together, please?”
She would beg and plead as she yelled this line over and over again
but there were no reactions, no answers from anyone.
In her mind she was no one, how could you be somebody to someone if you have already convinced yourself that you’re no one?
Copyright © Jolly Figs | Year Posted 2012
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