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Well, I'm gonna post two more I cranked out while in detention (bad Phyx) before I go to bed. Here they are. They are a little bit more dark than normal, but heh..when isn't my poetry dark?
(This one's about my grandma's nursing home...lots of emotion put into this one)
Happy Miles Nursing Home
One trembling hand, brown spots marking the age
Reaching out to grab mine
Her tears imprisoning confusion within the sparkling wet
Chapped lips fail to speak words of protest
As her touch fails to meet mine
I know not why she goes
But I sure know where
To the sleep of white halls
Room after room
Cramped with your elders
Goodbye leaves my mouth
And her sobs start the rage
Gramma's gone sonny
Her life has now passed
Her body may move
But her mind did not last
Sweet irony that the hallways of hell
Are bright, clean and well-kept
As an egg, pure with perfection
With grotesque chaos inside
Surrounded by veterans, old ladies, insane
Gramma hides in her cage
The sickly sweet stench of loose bowels
The moaning and pounding of those who can't take it
Food fit for a peasant and service extinct
Gramma's gone sonny
She rests now in hell
But, hon, it's ok
At least you're doing well
Slip doctor's the money and shove family away
To unburden yourself of the menial tasks of food, clothing and love
Hop into a jumpsuit and head for a jog
While Gramma does laps on urine stained linoleum
Day after day
Or stares at the ceiling, counting the flies
Eventually, insanity becomes entertainment
The walls disappear
Welcome to nursing
Your friends live in your head
No need for your family
Seems they think you're dead
Well, the day I stood up and I took Gramma's hand
I sat in a bright, noisy room with Grandpa counting the minutes
And her eyes, showing only small dots of last sanity
Flashed at my sight and beckoned me closer
Saliva poured from her mouth, hair laid upon pillow and she sighed
Her putrid breath crinkled my nose, yet startled my ears
As Gramma begged me to murder, pleaded for death, bargained for an end
And with a crackling howl, screamed for past happiness
And prayed, that I'd have enough sense to grab hold of a knife if MY nursing home called
Welcome to nursing
Where doctors are lying
And what keeps you awake
Are your hopes of soon dying
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Well, I have to head for the sack so I'll post the second one tomorrow. |
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