Poetry’s Dead at Heart

November 7, 2011
By david736 BRONZE, Short Hills, New Jersey
david736 BRONZE, Short Hills, New Jersey
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Poetry is for the weak
They are drawn to it like flies to honey
And the sane are repelled as if it were vinegar
For to seal one’s dreams and aspirations
To imprint one’s miseries in stone
Where any can read in comfort that written in a soul’s whirlwind
Misunderstanding the misrepresented
All thought and emotion contained
Thrust unto the page like insanity
Forming a chain of broken glass and spirit
They lie on the lap of the indifferent judge
Who shows apathy at the ink heart thrust before him
And he stabs at the meaty emotion
Raw and wet he claws out its anguish for the carrion birds
And the disregarded writer screams in agony as his heart laid bare is swiftly pecked away

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This article has 2 comments.

on Nov. 13 2011 at 5:22 pm
irishdancer37, Santa Fe, New Mexico
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
i really like the beginning of this poem. its kind of ironic, and very thought provoking

taylor1226 said...
on Nov. 12 2011 at 11:31 pm
taylor1226, Alexandria, Virginia
0 articles 0 photos 76 comments

Favorite Quote:

good poem.if you get a chance you should check out some of my work.:P

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