Let Them Yell; I Came Here To Scream

Can't always be happy, sadness is far more beautiful, kind, and nurturing. It is not sympathetic, it is honest, it is self-involved love. Or the ability to recognize the lack thereof.

I am the kaleidoscopic optometrist of shadows

 

Blinded by the light at the end of the tunnel

 

Of visionaries that gave a third eye for mine

 

So we could share the same views of a tranquil world

 

Not this bombarded clockwork mockingbird night-stalker flocking to nocturne

 

Borderlines divide petrified maestros malachite poltergeists of highway bygones

 

The write to do wrong

 

The ink of a tattooed poem of skin walking back the planes of oblivion

 

Slit-mouthed frowns and weather-bound brows like a windbreaker of clouds

 

My brain the rising horizon of sourdough

 

Necrosis blossoming oceans of metempsychosis’ oracles

 

Palpitations cultivate malting obelisks of concrete offerings

 

Serpentine graffiti slipping through the cracks of the sidewalk mosaic

 

Drift away like a lost kite in a windy sky

 

Or flip flop through night and day like a tumbleweed

 

Mangled roots of an unwanted heart stillborn in chorus

 

A church organ of beaten voices belching Valkyries of the ghetto crescendo elevators

 

Bleaching Elysium another shade of grey under a smoky sunrise of fireflies

 

Heaven is up another floor, God hides from the limbo of the stairway

 

Heaven’s door locked away to any but the delusional hallucinations, the hands of the clock

 

I finger the barrel of the Glock

 

The crows on the telephone lines come to watch the sheep flock over the pastures

 

A murder looks out upon the masses

 

Love is blind

 

Hate sees everything but common sense

 

The eyes of the lord see nothing but the mist over a rain stained city

 

There is no scrap of paper empathy scraping against clock faces

 

The lake is bulging over the belt of rocky shores

 

I live in a world of thoughts and sounds and sights caging me

 

Other fabrications or illusions pass by the pane of the window

 

Watch life under the covers of unread books, and blankets of blank pages

 

The squeal of loose hinges and unhinged people

 

Let them yell; I came here to scream

 

I’ve been beaten into sharp shards of metal that you could cut yourself on

 

I’ve been sculpted into open hands praying in solitude

 

I’ve been drafted into a one-man army against a world of self-centred rage

The quiet scarecrow left behind on the past of battlefields

Has a right to reap the static noise

Wouldn't you say?

I think I deserve to have a voice

Even if it sounds like silence

 

Author's Note

Can't always be happy, sadness is far more beautiful, kind, and nurturing. It is not sympathetic, it is honest, it is self-involved love. Or the ability to recognize the lack thereof. Or, maybe it is what happens after.

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

Reviews

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I can remember the mail "Only you, and you alone have the right to make decisions."
I completely agree that sadness gets far more beautiful. This poems reminds a lot. I don't want to stop this feeling of preserving it. You know, tired of running...now gotta stop and just...
Your poems for no reason makes me live each line. No doubt it's your skill and I admire that a lot. But the 'I' became me in no instance as I go through this piece.
"Can't always be happy" and I lived it. So this is another favorite.

I'm glad you're doing great with your new pieces!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you, I put all my emotion into these pieces, so they are like a part of me. I attempt to make the reader understand, and feel, what I have to say. Rather than simply hear me tell it to them.