Poetry Blogs (alienation)
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From Merriment to Misery
It all starts in an oxytocin bath,
drowning in aphrodisiac dreams.
Best friends sweating through
amorous bouts of battering lust.
You begin purposeful procreation
and embrace coparenting with zest.
In a blink, you go from saying “they’re
so cute and tiny” to “they grow up so fast”!
Bliss you’ve had and content you’ve been,
but somehow merriment becomes misery.
You begin to hoard a st...
Tuesday 15th December 2020 12:47 pm
The Distinct Challenges of Hyperfocus
Straddling a life between town and country,
I remember you once stood on a snake.
You never saw it as we were shouting,
Until you moved and it slithered away.
Once you walked into a concrete column,
As I told you to hurry and catch up.
But you were focused and a little solemn,
Just searching for green anoles close up.
So many times you fell into a pond,
And I had to pull...
Thursday 4th April 2019 3:46 pm
Same
All my days are like mud.
Birth is the gateway to hell.
I been standing
most my life on the edge.
Alienation in a world of same.
©JM.Cole
Sunday 22nd October 2017 7:00 am
Sex Overlooking The Sunset
It was surprising that after work, on Thursday,
she wanted to meet and share her bed with a man, again.
Maybe men, even, she thought, suddenly indecisive and guilty,
but for society, men, peers, their judgment, their pursed lips and nods of disapproval.
Now that she was almost home, her fireplace and Scotch seemed dearer, as usual;
the icy blanket of her acceptance of undesired celi...
Friday 21st July 2017 9:10 pm
these morphed illusions
What are we to do
about spectres in the mirror?
Pray tell, before they rise -
filling-in memories
of film noir and poetry,
dark or brooding -
blaring piano forte
Whip out the shammy & Windex;
`
Please make your response or comment on my profile pa...
Wednesday 31st October 2012 11:06 am
tent
There’s no room in my tent for you
Only space enough for me
My feet poke out quite brave
The rest of me hidden away.
Bees buzz, grass tickles my toes
That’s all of the world I need
If my tent had a big iron lock
I’d lock it to keep you out.
I’ve got crayons and a big book
And sandwiches in a tin
And I don’t have to let you talk
And I don’t...
Sunday 8th April 2012 4:43 pm
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