The writings of Oddpoet

Who wants to live forever?

I rage at the incom­pe­tence of my words
Another futile attempt to
Pierce the caul
That fil­ters my dreams



Ripped from a woman’s womb
Not of a woman born
Seek­ing com­pan­ion­ship
Find­ing only scorn



The obfus­ca­tions of Satanic spawn
The TV’s point of sin­gu­lar­ity
Into that black hole I’m drawn
Blind­ing me with banal­ity



They killed Lenny Bruce
Dis­guised as over­dose
They though they broke him
The Phar­isees did boast
They died face­less, unknown
They are for­got­ten corpses
Devoid of flesh and bone
His words live on



I am a Poet
I dance
Between the crush­ing weight
Of con­for­mity and chaos
I move to a rhythm and beat
That speaks to my unique vision



My songs are pain
Not joy
Of ques­tions
Not knowl­edge
Of a bro­ken heart
Not love



I am the pack less wolf
The out­sider
You never see me
I hover on the edge of invis­i­bil­ity
I am the embar­rassed pause
The faux pas
And the lost cause



I am a poet
I am what the world made me
And what I was meant to be

Tags: artists. who are we?, craft, Poet, wonder

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 24th, 2009 at 2:30 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.