It whispers the ugliest words, echoes of those who hurt the tenderness in us.
Tag: Vennie Kocsis poetry
When the Photons Call
The photons call out in desperation, for the body to pay attention.
Where Is Nowhere?
Where is nowhere? On the edge of sanity, where all the color and magic resides?
A Different Kind Of Damaged
I can only sit and observe, The winding streets of your hurt.
What does it feel likeTo be a ghost shunned;A soul un-grieved,Un-missed and unforgiven? In the hovering bowelsOf mysticism where theCynics hang their hats,She waits to beAcknowledged. In these times thereIs a satisfaction in thisInter-dimensional reaction;When spirit feels the wishingJust like we didWhen we were littleAnd hurting. "You are undeserving." I see her thereWeeping. She isRepeating … Continue reading Un-Acknowledged
Save the idle banterAnd the petty, senseless chatterFor the next innocent victimsOf your self created disaster. Save the sad, sad storiesAnd the sudden change of tuneFor the tide that brings the drowningWhen it all decapitates you. Save it for the othersWho love to gasp and smotherIn the drama and the strifeOf petty, purposeless lives. Save … Continue reading Save It
Collateral Damage Station
I'm on the outsidebright colorpeacock spreadingI own my street,a path forced discreetby tainted company I'm on the insidewhere children weepand we speakthis language ofnaivety, conversations brief know what it's liketo be the weird oneso, pretty stays silent She'll only be assumed Life consumes herleather bound pagesto be passed onto sonsthere are chosen onesholding secrets governmental … Continue reading Collateral Damage Station
You stand there in yourWhite smock,Arms crossed over the chest,Same smile fifteen years later. I wonder who you are anymoreAs your voice echoesDismissive screamsDisguised as suggestionsFor my wailing. "Hop a bus to the Harbor,"You say"Over a bridge.Live a littleBut just in case you can't..." Medicate I stand small in my boots,A dandelion inside of weedsSmashed … Continue reading Anesthetize
What Is This Place?
There's been a hell put on me, and it isn't written on frail paper, in black ink by pink skinned kings.
My heart is On fire It burns like Ember logs in Pot belly stoves And I can't remember When I was loved Held Revered Adored Save the moments My sons gazed at me With heartfelt eyes. My heart is On fire Burning with the lies The twisted goodbyes The times when Love would have Made … Continue reading Fire Heart
I Don’t Wanna
No, I don't wanna Go places where I Have to stand in lines or Have dinner at the same time Every night or Be inside crowds; Places too loud Where the chatter Becomes chaos. Give me stages Where I can Engage and explain, Sing a refrain, Feel the purpose Of the collective Soaking in my … Continue reading I Don’t Wanna
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