Laments and Impressions

by NyellMoonlight   Dec 22, 2007


Walking down the streets on Monday night
gets me high on emotional impressions,
in this town of dying dreamers and zealots.

I get curious glances from complete strangers
cause the beats that follow my footsteps are
too loud; no one understands pure magic
that I carry around lulled in the left pocket,
still waiting to meet the eyes of persona
who'll recognize rhythms that blaze within me.

Coldness wraps around trees and lampposts
pursuing cheap luminaries that slowly blink;
town church's dressed up like caricature of casino
captured within decorative misinterpretation.
I'm warming up my frozen intellect, trying not to
disgust from artificial sweetener that replaced Christmas.

Walking down the streets on Monday night
gets me high on engulfing inspiration
in this town of false idealism and broken ethics.

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Latest Comments

  • 16 years ago

    by Darien

    See, I like poems like these. Where it's more or less, a telling of a story, or telling of an experience.

    This was an interesting one. Definitely different from the last one I read, which shows how talented you are.

    The intro and outro to this poem, really highlighted the title of the poem. Which I thought was sort of catchy. Like your other poem. Good titles, and very nice writes.

  • 16 years ago

    by Quietly Versed

    First let me say that this poem is very good. I love imagery of "Coldness wraps around trees and lampposts pursuing cheap luminaries that slowly blink;"
    Rhythm could be improved, however, the content in this poem removes the need. Often the writer must chose between content and rhythm; I believe that you made a good choice to ere on the side of content in this one.
    Now as far as the greater meaning. Was this a poem about individual disgust for religion as a whole, but more particularly the misrepresentation of the christmas holiday. The speaker seems alone because everything around him carries with it a facade, and maybe, just maybe the magic lulled in his left pocket is actually honesty. And that honesty is the very entity that makes individuals around the speaker uncomfortable with his presence/ loudness of his footsteps. please reply by pm

  • 16 years ago

    by Keith

    Very good and very different, good job, thanks for commenting me btw :)

  • 16 years ago

    by Keith

    Very good and very different, good job, thanks for commenting me btw :)

  • 16 years ago

    by Solus

    In time may you find what you seek...... remember not the lost, those left behind and those who've wander past our eyes.