Mike Griffith

Mike Griffith Poems

Oftentimes I feel
So very, very close
To what I falsely believe
Is some correct reality
...

I no longer need the complex, shiny things.
Rather, I jettison the clumsy details and shallow idolatry;
Greedily gathered and hoarded while in fear.
Simple life is what I need - all I need,
...

The hits keep coming,
Steady and strong.
Packing a wallop
The whole damn decade long.
...

Recently the princess of innocence,
But now my little girl wants to die,
Once so high - now spiraled down,
And not one doctor can tell us why.
...

Orderly flowing slopes and soft depths,
Receding planes in odd perspective colored by contrasts of light,
Escher-esque designs and pseudo-static loads of b.s.,
Integrals and derivatives give way
...

I am addicted to melancholy and sadness,
And I make sure to feed
My self-loathing and madness.
I am used to defeat and pain,
...

Shock is lack of blood flow
To my heart,
My broken heart.
My heart lies empty
...

Rain,
I quiver as you gather,
and when we're together
I thank God for connecting us.
...

The Best Poem Of Mike Griffith

I Can See The Other Side No Longer

Adversity,

hardship,

and load after load,

of just really hard shit.

I've been sailing the seas of woe,

of pain,

and of self-pity,

for as long and far as memory goes.

Through trials and tribulations,

one thing had been constant;

That after a while,

I could usually make out

through the fog,

through the tears,

and through the clutter...

some clearing,

some light,

even some color;

some semblance of hope and order.

But now

It feels different.

Doesn't feel like much at all at first,

but 'numbness' is not

the right word for this thing,

because anger is sensation,

as are chest-heaving sobs,

and the breaking of my heart.

so what is it then,

if it matters now at all,

that hovers over me,

and moves through me,

darkening me,

hurting me,

dulling the small,

slim slice of hope,

that hung in the distance,

like a water mirage,

to the soon-to-be dead

lost desert traveler?

Does this mean

that I've given up,

that I'm giving up,

that all is truly lost,

and that soon I'll be gone,

replaced by pictures,

by relics,

and by a few tears?

No,

I don't believe it means

that the end of me,

that the end of my years,

is now at hand,

but instead,

it signifies permanent loss,

and marks the start

of the end of the life

that I felt I deserved,

and once truely thought,

was so close at hand

that I could see it,

could almost touch it...

Those hopes I once had,

just within grasp,

slipped through the cracks,

Leaving me wounded

from trying to hold tight,

as my once lighted dreams

shredded my fingers

and fell still in the the night.

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