As it is

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  • Life

    As it is

     Plucked from the current of the race
    Sucking joy, security, peace
    bursting shallow
    clear
    empty
    black and white
    modern trash
    sucking depth
    sucking gray matter
    hidden in the crevice of eternity
    stomped down
    sucking earth
    meaningless flowers on that abandoned grave
    dried and moldy shriveled soul
    sucking hope
    sucking my air
    clouds, smoke, vapors and tears
    faster, faster
    desperate ash
    sucking blood
    vein, fat and skin
    nails claw
    sucking oblivion
    and death.

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    devaamido commented on As it is

    10-05-2010

    Life sucks & then you die?... might's well enjoy the ride, then, hadn't we?.....................................................d
    Reply to Comment

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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