Poem #6: Fragile masses of meat

We humans are fragile. But still convinced we are immune towards life cruelty, bruatality and sickness. We are dumb in that way, living our life thinking that nothing, or no one, can beat us. We are immortal. Or at least, so we think. And we walk the crooked path of life acting like we know all there is to now. We take risks and challenge the laws of nature. Humans are stupid. But yet, it is our stupidity combined with our brilliant master homo sapiens mind that makes us so fascinating creatures. We are dumb, but smart. So clever that we do stupid choices to avoid boredom and spice up our life. And dumb enough to think that we will always come out on the right side when we jump of the path that faith has drawn for us, looking for a better way of living. But in the end we are just masses of meat. Flesh and bone smashed together into a human shape. We are fragile. Mortal. And don’t you forget that.

picture by background- pictures.picphotos.net

picture by background- pictures.picphotos.net

Poem #2: Scattered parts

So I just wrote a poem. Hahaha. Here it goes:

 

Running from myself,

jumping of the edge,

falling into the darkest place.

 

Broken promises and poisoned thoughts,

staring the monster in the eye,

but I am blind.

 

Screaming out of fear,

into my own ear,

with the beat of my heart as base.

 

Running in the dark,

searching for my heart,

where did my love go?

 

Dizzy dancing in my brain,

fucking up memory lane,

staring into the universe of darkness.

 

Puzzling scattered parts,

piece by piece,

puzzling them together in the search for me.

 

What do you think?:-p

Cheers, Maypaj. 

 

I just made a “late night” poem

solnedtåke

Late night poem #1

The smoke breaks the light,
and curls around the muscles.

The heart takes an extra punch
and the body weight increases.

The eyes sense dancing snakes,
whispering, wheezing they break the light.

The silence is full of noises,
notes and thoughts become melodies.

The truth is there,
hidden behind the smoke fog.

The hand grips,
but the truth slips.

The darkness is colorless,
and the eyes are heavy.

Smoke dust and sleep,
burden the eyelids.

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