Just a few poems, you don't have to read them all

Riddle

Cradled in the arms of foreign skin
That you are much too comfortable in
Constant shadows cross my path
Cast by nothing short of the past
Beaten brutally by the shame
A stab at dependency's middle name
Absent memories fill my shrine
To tinfoil that has lost it's shine


Shallow Eternity

Dropping the tune, sinking into the dull
Morbid clouds of smoke, seeping through my skull
Daring to be swallowed, tomorrow is our gun
Swimming down the sky's highway, into a velvet sun
A man's life ended when he started to love
Chemical once was natural, when push comes to shove
Happiness is buried under skin cells of despair
Dogma is the leading cause of cancer in the air


An ode to Sir John A. MacDonald

"Just ask" the whispering wind slips to me
But need is the greed we so desperately breed
A simple gesture means the world to an eye
That can see what humanity still tries to hide
Teacups won't fill up with false apologies
But they may catch these tears falling for sympathy
A rare forced emotion that died long ago
Because hate is the seed we so willingly sew


Final Thought

I've been eating ivy, teeth in stem, while cancer colors leak into my squared mouth
You've been painting petals, melting medals, trying to get me, let me out
You tell me "Cleanliness is godliness", well hey, I've never believed in god
I've been eating ivy, hoping for a shorter night, and longer plod
She stands in the door way, whores always stay, no matter who should own the sheets
No need to pay, she's free today, for the price of front row seats
I've been eating ivy, death by beauty, something in life I've never achieved
"Exists a better way to end" you say, not that you should be believed
Into my veins, the poison rains, filling, killing, turning my lips blue
Why should I, could I, live another day in this world, smothered by you
You tell me "Speak! Your silence is violence to my ears", and at that, I make no sound
While eating ivy, I've been slowly pulling you down with me into the ground

 

You've got some talent. Some of the pieces here seem a little unfinished. Keep writing.

 

That's the way I write.
My poems are usually short and sometimes have no real end.
I can't add to them, I wrote some a little while ago, and I can't force myself to write.
It just comes out, and once it's out, I can't add on anymore or else it feels fake.