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Earnest Greystar Poem
it hangs on your wall.
a faded black n white wooden photograph
probably taken some time back in the 80s.
It's one of those bootless thingies a new home owner would cast away, barely even noticing....
but you keep it.
like a lost wandering soul
ungodly hours find you on twos
mumbling ineligible things
to the ghost on the wall.
you stand there staring at the fading figure
it's reprimanding
at times it's happy. or annoyed.
but defiantly saying nothing.
it's in your house. on your wall.
it's vivid. alive. existent!
but only you can see it.
it's draining you,
slowly pulling you into it's ghostly world.
nobody else can see it
nobody can understand
'it's in your mind', they say,
'..or you're just delusional'.
mad!!
so you steer clear from mortals
keeping only to yourself
screaming, shouting, weeping
wishing they could understand
or that someone could find you.
but you're just one of a kind,
a ghost, just like the one on your wall.
Copyright © Earnest Greystar | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Earnest Greystar Poem
It stands tall and firm,
this tree with a DNA, the family tree..
leaves wither and drop as they dry with age
new ones sprout bringing on a new splendor
then comes we.
me, the goth guy and she, the hot blood.
both Alphas in individual respect,
posing an unspoken challenge.
so the wind blows and the tree sways
graciously flapping twigs against each other..
the leaves utter in excitement,
each contact giving birth to a new urge
an inevitable desire to crash into another.
lust!
but it's forbidden.
you spend hours, days, even nights
thinking of how to avert this impending doom,
eternal damnation.
the tree's fruit's for outsiders, but it's way too cute.
too inviting. enticing. tempting.
Arousing!
then comes the breeze again
one flap and fate finds her locked tight in your embrace.
both breathing hard but never making the move.
the the wind calms..
twigs stop flapping and leaves start parting..
you pull her back, she comes straight for your lips.
fingers go spying
tongues searching
hearts racing
mind blowing, not believing you crossed the unpardonable line.
the BLOODLINE
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Copyright © Earnest Greystar | Year Posted 2016
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