I did not really intend to post anything today, but at the last moment, inspiration came to produce more bad poetry so please bear with me my good people. I have to ask you though, if you do write poetry, how much of it is cerebral and how much of it is emotional?
In school, I learned that an experience doesn’t have to be the author’s own reflected in the poetry, like it’s just being channeled or something. Gee, I should’ve paid more attention in class… Anyway, how does it work for you in terms of inspiration, in terms of excavating that well of words?
This one for today’s Bad Poetry Weekend is a simple fascination of mine, on how people can easily say serious stuff and not mean them. I don’t understand it a lot. Can some people just be really assholes? 😆 It’s incredible how we relate to others really. The balance between selfish and selfless is always… unbalanced.
I don’t want to hear it, don’t say it.
These three words are thrown too easy, to me
They’ve lost meaning.
Yours is a different voice, different tone
But all the same… just words.
First time is a song, next mere lies poisoning
My poor, damaged chest.
From your lips they can come a thousand times
But always empty, always short, because you cannot
Live these words, you cannot
Because you’re too selfish, too cruel
Not only to me… but also to you.
Don’t open your mouth, don’t speak to me.
Forget the words – I don’t need them.
Silence… I long for your silence
That is my freedom.
Photo taken from here.