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TITLE (EDIT)
Not Caring |
DESCRIPTION
Three poems about three friends of mine.
[297 words] |
AUTHOR
Lewd Muse |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
Hopeless at understanding my thoughts when and if I think them.
[June 2000] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (2)
The Dreamer, A Collection Of Poetry (Poetry) The Dreamer is about a suicidal who wishes the morning was obscure and nonexistent. Clash of the Titans is a review of religious ignorance. [242 words]
Whispering To Death (Essays) Not quite sure why I wrote this. I just let my muse take control and saw what happened. Enjoy, I suppose. I can't describe it because I didn't write it. Read it yourself and see. [279 words]
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Not Caring
Lewd Muse
"Maybe Never When"
Two red obstructions, and the Death that saw them their
And a mind’s eye’s deduction, that no one was aware
Of the pain, the thoughts, the ecstasy, fickle as they be
Of one’s own mind and one’s own soul, nonexistent; hard to see
And if they saw it, would they be, the same as they were now?
Or would they stop to say they’re sorry that they saw the blackness growl
And the soul, emotions, and other crap that filled your essence in
Would be excreted due to anxiety; absorbed by others when
The pigs flew high and hell froze over
And the time of this aint’ nigh
Because part of humanity is pain, and just because
Is why.
"Not Caring"
Would a bird not flying make you care
About despair about?
Would a person dying make you think
That the time to think ‘twas now?
Or would you go about half-selfish
Half-laid back; half-assured
Continue your not caring, as death laid uncured
And disease ran rampant in your heart
A nonchalance cancer?
Would you mind then?
Would it be okay if you woke up and saw the despair?
Or should we all sleep in a blanket wove on happy thoughts, pushing problems away. Though we can’t, as others say, as problems reoccur, but shove them down and fuck the world, and screw the fucking bird.
"Dove’s Tears"
I don’t find it typical to fall in love
As attachment is not a banal thing.
But I find it typical for a dove
To spread its wings and sing.
The dove can be happy because simple odes
Fill its throat with joy
But only tears may humans know
And who said we could?
Tears would shatter, if we froze them
For their magic lies in brevity
Shortness, pointlessness, wetness, and random
‘Twould be their specialty.
We can be happy with tears
Cry those who wanted you
But tears, like fears, and dreams, to boot, always disappear
While the memory half-certain of love is remembered tried and true.
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READER'S REVIEWS (2)
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"I find it difficult to swallow that twenty have read this piece and none have reviewed. This review itself will probably ward others off from hitting the button and donating their two cents, but I post it anyway." -- Lewd Muse.
"At this very moment, there have been 62 visitors, my dear! Aren't I sweet? I review your work. I tell you I love it. Well, it is good. I'm not sure why people would not review it. "Not Caring" is my favorite, and I shall add it to my web page. Please visit there... hey_jenn_babe.tripod.com/jenn/ Love ya! " -- Angel (Jennifer), Baton Rouge, Louisiana, USA.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 200 Lewd Muse |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
June 2000 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2187
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