Two new poems I kinda like.. enjoy
“What is me?” by Matt Foley
M
What is M?
M is my mind,
filled to the brim
but is often lacking.
M is my mentor.
Mixing, matching
malevolently maxing
my imagination and taxing
the fullest of ideas, releasing me slow.
E
That is E.
E is every elegant,
eloquent, elastic entanglement
ensnaring even the smallest of bugs.
Pests, insects crawling through my world.
Enter the enigma.
Ever-changing, evolving, revolving, solving.
Extravagantly extraordinary, ecstatically enforcing,
exotic, quixotic, chaotic.
What am I?
No, what is me?
I am my mind, my mentor,
my matchmaker, my motivator.
I am my elegance, my jailor,
my problem and my impaler.
From finger to out-stretched finger
and head to every toe below that lingers.
Nothing interrupts my thoughts,
nothing interrupts my flow.
And the one I like most of all..
“Rage” by Matt Foley
What is this stage of crafted wood?
It is my life, or at least it should.
A dramatic re-enactment of events gone past,
overcast in darkness by the shadows at last.
While in the existential photographical image of the light,
we find a poor soul’s struggle, one person’s desperate final fight.
Stave, stave off that helplessness you are seeing.
Rage, rage against the fire that consumes your being.
Lost in a maze of briars, thorns whose sting is fatal.
The mortar in my castle of cards has started to fail.
The thinly veiled building blocks are losing all their hue,
the fall of my crumbling empire is likely to ensue.
The timing of their blows and the voracity of their strikes
leave my frail exoskeleton like a collision of motorbikes.
Stave, stave off that helplessness you are seeing.
Rage, rage against the fire that consumes your being.
When all is said and done and your life is engulfed,
make sure you’ve said your prayers, your rebuffs.
That you may go down in a blazing hail of grace
that you may feel the hands lift you up, feel your face.
You will see the climax, and that crescendo is in sight.
Show everyone against the world, show them your true might.
Staved, staved is the helplessness that you had once seen.
Raged, raged you had against the fire that consumed whom you had been.
M
What is M?
M is my mind,
filled to the brim
but is often lacking.
M is my mentor.
Mixing, matching
malevolently maxing
my imagination and taxing
the fullest of ideas, releasing me slow.
E
That is E.
E is every elegant,
eloquent, elastic entanglement
ensnaring even the smallest of bugs.
Pests, insects crawling through my world.
Enter the enigma.
Ever-changing, evolving, revolving, solving.
Extravagantly extraordinary, ecstatically enforcing,
exotic, quixotic, chaotic.
What am I?
No, what is me?
I am my mind, my mentor,
my matchmaker, my motivator.
I am my elegance, my jailor,
my problem and my impaler.
From finger to out-stretched finger
and head to every toe below that lingers.
Nothing interrupts my thoughts,
nothing interrupts my flow.
And the one I like most of all..
“Rage” by Matt Foley
What is this stage of crafted wood?
It is my life, or at least it should.
A dramatic re-enactment of events gone past,
overcast in darkness by the shadows at last.
While in the existential photographical image of the light,
we find a poor soul’s struggle, one person’s desperate final fight.
Stave, stave off that helplessness you are seeing.
Rage, rage against the fire that consumes your being.
Lost in a maze of briars, thorns whose sting is fatal.
The mortar in my castle of cards has started to fail.
The thinly veiled building blocks are losing all their hue,
the fall of my crumbling empire is likely to ensue.
The timing of their blows and the voracity of their strikes
leave my frail exoskeleton like a collision of motorbikes.
Stave, stave off that helplessness you are seeing.
Rage, rage against the fire that consumes your being.
When all is said and done and your life is engulfed,
make sure you’ve said your prayers, your rebuffs.
That you may go down in a blazing hail of grace
that you may feel the hands lift you up, feel your face.
You will see the climax, and that crescendo is in sight.
Show everyone against the world, show them your true might.
Staved, staved is the helplessness that you had once seen.
Raged, raged you had against the fire that consumed whom you had been.