POEM: Greater Things
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2003
copyright September 25, 2002
all rights reserved
The emptiness of solitude confines my mind.
Dim lights highlight my self.
Itching scalp calls for a scratch.
The tender pains of life remind me that I live.
In preparing for bedtime, I forget to grow tired sometimes.
Boredom motivates my soul to seek adventure in the void:
My computer whirrs from the cooling fans that blow
Sweet cooler air to soother the searing heat of microprocessor chips.
Soft feel of a velour blanket of deep warm colors beneath me
Hiding the harsh, heavily stained chair that is so comfortable
The masks of my self and my chair are much alike in this.
Both conceal the true nature of reality and the scars of abuse.
Clickings of clocks tick by and by as I listen to the purring
My stomach grumbles as it is reminded: I have not recently fed.
My long hair, braided, tickles my back yet soothes me like the
Affectionate touch of a devoted cat's tail.
My fingers rub the stubbled chin of my face
As I think of life and all that has been, is, will be...
My dry throat desires quenching water
I feed it carbonated, caffeinated sugar drinks.
My arms grow weary as my nose senses an odor
Delicious brownies concealed within the cabinet
Fresh, home made with cherries adrift in chocolate
What a gourmet I have become yet I restrain myself...
For the genetic nature of my physique is in question
I care to become less padded and more strong
Willpower holds me back in anticipation of
Greater things...
all rights reserved
The emptiness of solitude confines my mind.
Dim lights highlight my self.
Itching scalp calls for a scratch.
The tender pains of life remind me that I live.
In preparing for bedtime, I forget to grow tired sometimes.
Boredom motivates my soul to seek adventure in the void:
My computer whirrs from the cooling fans that blow
Sweet cooler air to soother the searing heat of microprocessor chips.
Soft feel of a velour blanket of deep warm colors beneath me
Hiding the harsh, heavily stained chair that is so comfortable
The masks of my self and my chair are much alike in this.
Both conceal the true nature of reality and the scars of abuse.
Clickings of clocks tick by and by as I listen to the purring
My stomach grumbles as it is reminded: I have not recently fed.
My long hair, braided, tickles my back yet soothes me like the
Affectionate touch of a devoted cat's tail.
My fingers rub the stubbled chin of my face
As I think of life and all that has been, is, will be...
My dry throat desires quenching water
I feed it carbonated, caffeinated sugar drinks.
My arms grow weary as my nose senses an odor
Delicious brownies concealed within the cabinet
Fresh, home made with cherries adrift in chocolate
What a gourmet I have become yet I restrain myself...
For the genetic nature of my physique is in question
I care to become less padded and more strong
Willpower holds me back in anticipation of
Greater things...
