Lizz's Lazy Lizzard Lounge

poem 79

perhaps, i am not dramatic
enough for you, as i lay
back on this velvet chair.

and take from my pocket
the golden chain, that
once rested around your
betrothed's neck.

right before it and he
were taken from you.

i am but a spirit, but
i can still scare you as i
lie back on this couch
like the one you loved.

poem 80

my fall from the sky was not enough.
aunt flo came to me and stated, that
i must endure something more.

poem 81

crossing majestic mountains,
and through the pitfalls of the
land, they continue to travel
together with a very merry
band.

poem 82

the sound of the sirens,
may lead a man to the sea.
but it is the temptations
of treasure, that brings the
wicked souls down to me.

poem 83

can they really walk through
the gates of hell, and stand so
solemnly before the judge?
who holds in her hands, the
fate of every man, who may
ever dare to grace the earth.

poem 84

aunt flo comes to visit,
and all the people leave,
the ones the victim
needs to talk most to.

poem 85

the skies will close in upon them,
in upon me. burying me beneath
all of this dirt, that is laden with
a heavy message about the life
that i have led. what i have done
and certainly, what i have failed to do.

poem 86

there's a though about life, which
will be stated at every funeral in
the land. and they will say that
this person lived life to the fullest,
no matter how much of a lie that
may be. funerals gather all of
these good compliments, make up
work for the years that were missed
out on, by current attendees.

poem 87

weddings have a standard
operating procedure. i came
to realize that after being so
isolated in an overseas one.
that i was so lonesome and
could not connect to these
people who seemed so
happy and successful, but
turned not to be, if you
talked long enough.

poem 88

a poet is poor by nature.
as are the rest of the
'artists' of the world, toiling
away on the whatever
project of the week.

poem 89

that's not to say that some aren't successful,
that just isn't the model that pop culture has
repeatedly presented to us. all artists are
beggars and beatniks, and can be nothing
else…

poem 90

with each line written here,
a further shade of darkness
falls upon these lands, and
will keep going until this is
all just an abyss.

poem 91

to the rebels, who try so hard to
fight what is happening, know that
the spirits do wish you the best of
luck. but then there are the living
who want to have their United evil
kingdom. it is up to them if you succeed.

poem 92

four knights cross the lands of their kingdom,
and then they are separated from one. with a
thought that the missing knight will come back,
they march on, not realizing what the missing
one will soon become.

poem 93

they search but they cannot find the missing party member.
where might this person be, this knight who seemed so loyal
just a few moments ago, but seems so much like a traitor
right now? how would they possibly know to look in the locked
tower, where everything turns to the dark side in the end.