Vanilla-coated beast,
Rice fields of narrow dreams,
you soared through,
Ruins of crying children echoing in
Corridors of a different acquiescence.
Soap bubbles inflated into vision,
Transparent melodies encasing privacy.
Reflections off abandoned brown
Showed many things beyond count:
I saw
Buttoned-up collars and prized watches,
Formality a form contradictory
To a chaos jealous of society's thriving
Formidability.
I saw
Pursed lips and poker faces
Faced gamemasters - masters of illusion
Identity fusion between reflection and
Reality.
I saw
Hands clinging onto dull blue,
Brew of bland beige branded
On thee white fiend.
Movement disciplined,
Feet in leather,
Limbs in cloths,
Collar in metaphoric metal.
You stare funny at me,
Glass panes an expression of anger
Scarier than anything I imagine.
Calm down, beast,
Alas, I revere, I heed, I surrender.
Surely I mean something.
White beast,
Please do not shun me,
Life's a machine,
And I'm simply a victim
Of a vague ambiguity.
YOU ARE READING
Ode
PoetryHere's an ode to the night he/she left; here's an ode to the anxiety you feel on a sunny morning and everything was supposed to be fine; here's an ode to the feelings left unexpressed; here's an ode to the words left unsaid, or perhaps what can...
