When I walk into a room, always lines of faces looking at me. Rows of pathetic sheep bleating their rehearsed lines. Things you can't do. Things you can't say. These are the messages they collectively deliver. Flow around me, trying to wrap me in the collective sigh. Together we'd emerge, or so they demand, to blow away the shackles of freedom thoughts. We'll wear the same designs, eat the same religion. Be like submarine sandwiches all blended into one. When I walk, when I walk, When I walk into a room. The walls will be electrical, charged with restrictions of the thinking. Words will be chanted like old monks locked away in a cell. The same tattered and dried messages will be created out of thick air. I'll be properly tied into the dragging nylon stockings of complete and total despair. I'll be roasted and flamed over a flowing blood vein of compromise. That will become my statement. My version of the truth. When I walk, when I walk, When I walk into a room. Tripping over the vowels used to discredit me. Hiking down my pants so that I can be anally inserted with needles of forgetting and moving on. Holding pattern established and so the mindset of nothing becomes the absolute sum of all my heart. When I walk outside of the room, I must remember to lock the door as I silently crawl away.
Judgement, all the eyes cast at you and you can feel their penetrating gaze as it beats its way down your spine and explodes threw your mind like a hand grenade, sending the shrapnel of that judgment through your now bleeding soul. Excellent write Chris!
The only thing I get out of this work is that you've given up completely. Very low place in mind and heart. As you crawl away in silence after having locked the door on all the negativity you've expressed one can only hope that you feel lifted from the load that is now secured and you may go on somehow.
This is an intense write. it's hard to be yourself when everyone expects you to be like them..... why do we have to all fit into a mold that we don't want..... that is what I got out of this...... I love the way the poem unfolded from start to end
Over 200 of my poems have appeared in more than one hundred journals in the U.S. and Canada, in Japan and Australia, and the U.K.
I have had a series of chapbooks published in the 1980's by 4 Wi.. more..