Hole Of Some Sort.... Poem by GRANT FRASER

Hole Of Some Sort....



It's not futility,

nor is it merely fashion,

dying is permenent!

a solidity of nothing-ness,

life reaches beyond itself!

it's wants to try to die!

put the cloak on, shed

that final white long skin

of hope,

I say living, it is an attempt!

for me at least, always hellbent!

in through one door,

out of another, but always back

back back through them all,

missing something, questioning

what it was...mad planet you

either know or you dont?

breathing is feasible, anything

to be achieved, no true form

of connection, who needs a

face book to unleash one's self,

that core being always hidden

from light,

eternity thrill or kill me,

the entertainment tom foolery

has toppled over,

and the pretending gift

or garment is the exception,

through a ghost ephemeral lock,

such bloated trivialities!

'precious', look how you -

define me....,

to dig the ground up badly,

bury me where you

take it all out,

stuff me in it's place,

so i can stare inside

the skeleton ground,

from a cage of bones,

prattling!

Thursday, October 15, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poems
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