To my ghostsHello, Ghost of oker painted fears -
You're the world's greatest sedative,
Paralyzing limbs and forcing words back in mouth.
Blowing little parasytes deep into the body:
You pour thick cement on my forehead,
Until every reflex is gone -
And I'm just a statue in the middle of the driveway.
My Ghost of the crazy and mentally insane -
You've built your simple wooden hut,
Somewhere in the middle of my stomach.
Hammering 'all things normal' into your kitchen walls.
Nothing about you is straight or conservative,
You like to watch people push water uphill -
Now I'm a dark blue mermaid, with my tail chopped off.
Hello to the Ghost of impulse and intuition -
You're feeding me little pink pills,
While killing all intelect and pushing feet forward.
If you would be king, books would be burned
And clothes to cover private parts - banned from kingdom.
You would be loved, but never accepted,
As you're wild and uninhibited -
And I'm a waterfall, while the world waits and dies.
Beautiful ghost of tranquil melancholy -
Your theories are quite grand,
Like an ancient chandelier decorating a high ceiling.
Taking my hand and guiding me towards sadness.
You're soft and gentle, never in a rush,
Like a mother's touch you always seem to comfort -
Now I'm an infant, already sleeping in the coffin.
Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 350 times
Written on 2012-05-29 at 13:39
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