It isn't my time yet,
the phoenix syndrome again,
burning out my frozen life,
filled with stagnant ideas,
confused thoughts and feelings,
from biting through wires,
trying to understand you.
I need a ressurection,
the second coming,
or maybe it's in the thousands,
but who's counting?
I wouldn't climb that mountain,
it's peaks are too high and icy,
I won't pay the reaper to go back,
that's far too pricey,
and in the end,
the cycle starts again.
I won't pull out a guitar and sing,
that's for the con-artists and kids,
trying to bed you under their favourite star,
or any of them, because he doesn't know the difference,
or how much you've already given away with your mouth,
and all the inappropriate things we said,
as far as he's concerned a lay is a lay,
and if he's got you naked it's been a good day.
I remember when life was that easy,
actually I don't, because I'm not like that,
it takes more than a random night to keep me smiling,
and even though sometimes I'm unhappy,
no one ever called me out for a lack of trying.
Democracies tend to favour civil liberties,
but Mill knows what you'd give for me,
to be your overwhelming fascist,
like I used to be on our mattress,
and are those too strong of words?
No, because it's important to strike chords,
that'll make people listen,
break out of the soul-battering system,
love and passion aren't dead,
listen to the voices in your head,
Loneliness is a reaction to a need not being met,
and the only way to fill it is to get your life set,
and stop looking back,
that's all in the past,
and it can't help you now,
it'll only drag you down.
New beginnings,
new endings,
are we at the end or the beginning,
and what does it matter anyways?
I see new wings sprouting from my back,
or they're old wings I couldn't remember I had,
refurbished wings,
carrying me skyward,
and I know you'll come in the night like a thief,
a solo act of wisdom bearing three gifts of grief,
waiting to give away all your worst parts,
packaged with your body, passion, and smarts,
a one-way ticket to take away a piece of your heart,
and who would take you up on the offer of a second-hand start?
Andy Veilleux 
oh but i like second hand souls…
nice verse….
thanks Brian! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
a one-way ticket to take away a piece of your heart,
loved that line…Awesome writing!
thanks! I like both of your writing too. Keep it up! I look forward to reading more of your poetry!
yea- second hand start- cool wordplay!
thanks 🙂 I’m glad you enjoy it!
creative and fun read…
your poem is fabulous!
😉
Thanks Jingle 🙂
divine…………
birth is like start of the film, death is like end of the film, life is to watch the film to know your role and my part. zero share:- film is neither real nor false………………..
Thanks for the post, I enjoy the film analogy (being a major film person myself). Cheers!
i enjoyed this , it’ written beautifully.
please keep two things in mind:
#1: return favors to poets who are here for you…
#2: visit 18 poets that are NEW to you…
please let me know if you have further questions or concerns.
have fun!
🙂
divine……….
………Name has no meaning and meaning has no name ,knowing meaning you can dance with
different names, different roles, different films but on screen comes the original name either at the start of the film or at end of the film that is mostly the case ,you are blessed one divine that it appeared at the start of the film…….enjoy your roles ……and names……