Laughing like the Sun

If you find it difficult to understand, you know you're on the right track. It's a nightmare come to life, after all. Excluding all the scientifically impossible bits, which is pretty much the whole poem. Lol!

My soul, impure.

My spirit, tainted.

Myself, broken.

Many faces, painted.

A vast array of souls in the Empire Exhibition.

All boasting colours of dead inhibition.

And mine?

Sorry, I'm colour-blind.

I prefer not to slide down the rainbow of some retarded leprachaun

With his pot of gold (Miser!) and his Irish Setter called Scorn.

 

Dancing skulls and grey smoke,

Pink eyeballs and beauty unspoke,

Tip-toeing from soul to soul.

Banishing friends,

And Death personified.

He will make me suffer forever.

My Yellow Jester.

 

Red and black and golden bells screaming

An ode of ridicule to make me wake up in my dreams,

Wearing nothing but boxers in a gaping-mouthed classroom.

A cold shower in the Mo(u)rning of my Life.

 

He just stood there,

Silently,

Staring,

A sardonically woven voo-doo doll with lidless eyes.

Baring his teeth,

Their yellow surface

Blinding me with

An absence of friends,

With which I sow the soil of my barren Purgatory, my world.

 

Those teeth,

Those teeth,

Grinding and grinning at me

With their own plastic faces.

 

'You are alone,' he tells me. 'And you always will be.'

 

And he laughed...

 

And laughed...

 

And laughed...

 

And all I did

Was stand there,

Taking it in,

Absorbing the aura of torment into my hollow cocoon that I call a body.

That Glasgow smile that haunts my dreams,

Emanating from his soul,

Like a Joker, with style, from Hell...

or maybe Heaven?

I don't know.

I don't know who wants me anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You know what? That laugh?

 

 

 

It kinda hurt....and it still does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

'Empire Exhibition': the place were this incident, the basis of the poem, happened, was a cinema called Empire.
I hate the colour yellow. Also, its supposed to symbolise a yellow sun. Sort of like the sun, the only thing that provides light, lies to you. Plus, I hate staying in the sun for more than 15 minutes. It gives me migraines. Lol.
The whole 'waking up in a classroom wearing nothing but your boxers' theme is a common nightmare which many children have, so I thought I would mention it.

Reviews

[Mark D. Chevalier]

I don't care for the Sun either. Too many years spent in Florida working under it.
This was an incredible poem! There was mix of things that made me lean forward with the intensity of it, and smile.
"I prefer not to slide down the rainbow of some retarded leprachaun. With his pot of gold (Miser!) and his Irish Setter called Scorn." Couldn't help but smile at that one.
You have a smooth style, and the verse catches the eyes and compells you to move down the page. And I can certainly relate to nightmares. I think as writers and poets our minds are in over-drive constantly.
Great work!
Mark

[~angelalala~]

i love this poem. its dark, its paranoid. the beginning 3 lines are very powerful. ''You are alone,' he tells me. 'And you always will be.'' this grabbed me personally, for its my nightmare too. you've turned your nightmare/ experience into a beautifully crafted, dark poem. well done.

[Jason Henry]

oh god that little surprise that awaited me when i scrolled down made this poem more than a poem dude! line after line i was just saying "nice!" in my mind then "nice!" outloud! its an exceptional piece of literature. congratulations of the terrific piece.

...yeah i hate yellow too.

Wow, you're like a vampire or something. Haha. Very well written poem. I can feel your pain in the poem, your choice of words are so strong. I really like the last line: it gets me.

P.S. Into the Library it goes :)

[A LaDy NaMeD D]

lol in my eyes this is orginial! I liked it.

Danni J

[Barbara Walker]

This poem really grabbed me from the start. I love the imagery and the "wearing nothing but boxers in a gaping mouthed classroom, a cold shower in the morning of my life" is priceless. If you changed that to "mourning", I think it would enhance the meaning of the poem. Just a suggestion or two... I would stop the poem at, "I don't know who wants me anymore". It wouldn't detract the meaning of your poem. Also, it's spelled "emanating". This is a very good poem! Barbara

[Mysteral - Night Prowle..]

The first two thirds of this poem I think are amazing. Very vivid. However, I'm sorry to say that from the repetition of "And he laughed..." There seemed very little I could relate to. Sorry, put it down to the fact I don't understand poetry, but well worth reading up to that section.

[cyanskye]

Very cool, dark poem. I love the rhythm I felt while reading it, not unlike a frightened person relating the story. I am not sure about the next to last line "You know what..." I can see what you are trying to do here but it might need to be a little tighter. The final line, however, is perfect and really pulls the work together.

[Damian Alan Gray]

Terrifying. But, glimpses into one's soul always are. This is a good poem and you're definitely on the right track with it. I would, however, omit the wording after: "I don't know who wants me anymore." It takes away from the impact that the poem otherwise emits.