Credulous, demented rhetoric
Clasped Hand
Drowned Demeanor
I call upon you
Waiting
I dance to a song that We both know
It hurts to turn
It hurts, every twist & twirl
If I could only share the weight of my dance, …
If you could only…
I ask too much
I’m sorry; …
Weren’t Our Voices Raised?
A door swung open
A familiar figure
Silence
May I have this dance?
Clasped Hands
A Song
We both Love
Draped in Liquid Laughter
Dawned with Pretentious Hope
fraught with silent Resolve
silent Resignation
I clamor; I wait
Pressed against the glass
against the glass of self-indignation
Watching people engage & Smile
on the other side of the window
It begins to rain
Dripping liquid, pretentious laughter
Crying, “Hope!”
Now, I realize that I am the One standing outside
The One, without an umbrella
Collaboraters Wanted! Poets, Photographers, Graphic Designers, Musicians and News Writers are all welcome. Email me, Stephen Perro, at Stephenperro@gmail.com for details.
Poetic News: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5mdN7R7UzQHWdiJfstzsqnybeRxhe-02&jct=9nzz9FTOXnn6UEqf9yAjCrqpiMn2Qw
Delving into minds Unrendered
The Light bestows no Hope
To those whom Seek its Brightness
Well traveled & learned
Versed in many tongues
The Fool clothed in a sage’s Garments
Prominent figures all Aligned
They seek the Awe & wonder of a Few
Only to receive the admiration of
The Masses
Their calling weighing on them
Their yoke Tight
Break the cycle
Break the chain, your hands Bound
Your fetters Tighten, your Resolve
Tighter still
“Shine Bright!”, they say
When one merely needs to Shine.
Latent strings bound by Gold
Screech the echo of times long past
Each era burned
Flames of dread
The psychotic dance of that same figure, that shadow
Eyes, a Flame
Rising higher
Mesmerized
his graceful motion
Mesmerized
his haunting strings
His Melting Strings of Gold
Trying to find Love on a
Rainy Day
Finding love in each
and every Drop
Falling from the Sky
As they fall, So do I
As they break, So my heart
As they Sound, so my voice
In my head it Rings
The singing of the Angels
bleeding into my
Veins
giving me Life Again
or better Yet
or better yet, Let it Ring for me
Just Once
and maybe
just maybe
my heart will Sing
It’s a little out there, but it certainly makes some good points. If you like satire, as far as literature is concerned, This is the book for you.
The ear welcomes like a kind host
Then betrays its humble guest
A knife, A twist in the back
Life’s Gift
has gone
and past
The beats bleed forth
gushing Rhythm
and Rhyme
Its body gasps for
Its last Inspiration
rotting lines of meter
Its flesh decays
Ashes to Ashes
Note to Note
It returns to the mind
That ground of creative
thought
To sprout, To blossom
into another form
that eternal Beauty
Flowers bloom on the dark
side of the moon
If a Tear was a Word
I could write my story
“Don’t write”, I say
She writes her story
on the sidewalk
“Don’t Cry”, I say
Let it be laughter
Let that be your Word
Your smile, Your Pen
She smiles and laughs
Her stream of tears
Now beautiful sparkling rivers
From the Homes of Iris
Now, I write the Story of My Life
On the Pages of Each Day
With Laughter and Tears
Enter the Newcomer, the Door now Closed
With bewildered eyes, seemingly deaf
A sea of faces before her, A myriad of expressions
Though their ties to the place where they emote be nearly singular
Nearly one, their bodies pretend to rest in cold-blooded seats
Bodies positioned, facing a single direction
“How quite it is”, “How numb the feeling” says their eyes
reading, fidgeting, pacing, staring…
“Oh, how I wish this monotony be broken” says their faces
waiting, waiting, fidgeting, pacing, Glaring!
A giggle Escapes a quite reader; An Old Woman begins conversing with a New Parent
The clerk signaling, “Next, Please”
