Bomb In C Minor
There's a minefield set inside my head
Any little push and I think we're all dead
The barrel is loaded through my twisted neurology
Which social miasmas set in motion the trigger
Leading tainted endearments that lead me to linger
A hyacinth aborted, in the killing fields bloomed
caution were you tread, or this roman candle will yield
There's a bomb playing c minor, it's my schizoid sonata
Cracked coronets pick away my head with an axe
The violins scratch impressions on mahogany lines
While the Spanish guitar paints me to a far away time
And nobody hears the pressure point crescendo to the drums
as the bomb goes off for session number 1
Everyday is navigated combating a barbed wire planet
For eyes and subtle sneers, firing the shot penetrating fear
Wounds fragrant the body and make a casualty worn
Without notice to recoil the shrapnel lodges your thoughts
And every scar to the insults engineers a damaged mind
Leaving you on guard from your friends and your foes
Your never really sure, if their just exchanging roles
For every move in public view,
Exposes you to the gunman's cue
Get a role with Madam Guillotine
When you slip up on your tongue, in an open dialogue
And its blind date with a scaffold,
if you expose your heart to wolves in the sheets
Your maggot buffet if you don't have the resolve
Of a good poker face, under duress of public charge
Wisdom from the sludge has taught me how to run
To hide from the snipers who smile to brazenly
Sincerity is cosmetic, every emotion is synthetic
Every word is a code with an ulterior motive
Intimacy is segregated only a shield keeps me safe
Attachment is exposure to Greek barren gifts
Let them in and you receive a poison ivy handshake
Becoming a veteran at the age of adolescents
In a waiting room, reiterating old terror hit songs
Perpetual cycle of the dark thoughts of yester year
Brings poison to dreams of the things of today
Fear than blooms of ashes from future surprises
And everyday feels like a fly in a spider's web
Under the spotlight for the monsters teeth marks
There's a bomb in C minor, its singings as soft as lilac burns
There is a drum beating slowly with a disconnected cadence
[...] Read more
poem by Kevin Patrick
Added by Poetry Lover
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