Why are all the
poets deranged?;
Their works are all remembered
for it holds whatever is strange.
Why are all the
sad songs beautiful?;
They hide bitterness in tones that sound cool.
Is the world just simply
beautiful all because it is sad;
Why can't you all see it's making me mad?
A palace ruined by a tragedy
covered in moss;
But its age makes it memorable
Not the royalty's curse.
Am I not called a poet simply
because I'm not sad?;
Why is beauty making
us all mad?
A carpet out
of a bear's fur;
Their deaths are all
that's decorating your floor.
Are trees more majestic
as a plant or a chair?;
Vintage cars become art
despite not being repaired.
Is pain just beautiful
all because it is painted and
hanged against a wall?;
Can't you all see what it
is doing to us all?
I thought about this concept while being so frustrated that I can't write poems like I used to before. I searched for my older poems and noticed that most of them are based on the devastating moments in my life. I came up with the topic for the poem by thinking about how the most famous and remembered forms of art are timeless because they express either a war, history, or a tragic back story. The most beautiful chairs made out of the ugliest trees, the meat in the market from the most useless animals in the farms.
It has become one person's suffering to turn their "deaths" into art. People only love things that are out of authenticity and identity. People choose things with a dollar to their name.
Never put yourself down for people to pay attention to you. Never destroy your purity for people to pity you. That's not Death, that's Selfishness, that's betraying those who see the beauty in you.
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Poems From Puerto Verde
PoetryDuring this pandemic, we find more time removing each layer of our identity. The deeper we look out our windows, more stars appear. Our hair grows longer and longer. Everyday is spent like a time loop. As Milan Kundera says in "The Unbearable Lightn...
