Archive for the ‘poem #12’ Tag

Sick and Tired (National Poetry Writing Month 2018 #12)   Leave a comment

Sick and tired
Thoughts expired
Mired, drained
Joy restrained
Nausea hits
Eyesight quits
Head explodes
World erodes
Finally creep
To fitful sleep
Floating away
No more today

– Shaman Romney 2018

Posted 04/12/2018 by Shaman in National Poetry Writing Month 2018

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Missing Pistachios (National Poetry Writing Month 2017 #12)   Leave a comment

Some mustacio’d pistachio thief
Stole into my living space
And much to my disbelief
My nuts have vanished without a trace

I wanted to find him, to give chase
But I didn’t know where to start
My mind a bullet, my thoughts race
In my chest is a broken heart

For I cannot bear to be apart
From my favorite shelled green seed
For I love to have them a-la-carte
My desire goes past want to need

I guess I will have to concede
That my stash is gone forever more
Since I do not have any lead
I’ll suck it up, and go to the store.

– Shaman Romney 2017

Cogitation (National Poetry Writing Month #12)   Leave a comment

It’s hard when you don’t know the right thing to do
Your actions have consequences, but your indecision does too.
If your stuck between a rock and a hard place
Is the only choice which one you want to shove in your face?

Is a lie good if it’s for the right cause?
If the truth causes pain, is it wrong to take pause?
Is the road to hell paved with good intention
Or is the reality too harsh to mention?

Or is my dilemma much more simple than I’d wish?
They ran out of steak, do I go chicken or fish?

– Shaman Romney 2016

Posted 04/12/2016 by Shaman in National Poetry Writing Month 2016

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I’m Ok (National Poetry Writing Month 2015 #12)   Leave a comment

I woke up feeling suicidal today.
No really, its fine. I just let the thoughts play.
They came into my mind like a long lost friend,
Except the games they wanted to play were my end.

Flying through images like a Dr. Seuss limerick
Painting a picture that would make people sick.
Drowning in a bathtub, getting hit by a train,
Taking an icepick to my brain.

Movies of senseless violence and gore
Until the thoughts couldn’t be thought anymore.
Then they got up and said their farewell.
And then I moved on. Wait, oh hell-

Seriously, I’m fine. So please stop crying.
I’m not going to do it, I’m just thinking of dying.
No it’s like a hobby, something to pass the time.
Like crochet or video games; a victimless crime.

Yes, I know I’d be the victim; I’m not going to do it.
It’s too much work to actually go through with it.
Where am I going to find a good rope these days.
Security guards block access to upper walkways.

Ok, I know you don’t get it; I know its surreal.
But thoughts aren’t reality. Just ethereal.
I just view life a little more morbidly.
Most people just view it more happily.

But they are just thoughts, so what’s the problem?
No one is hurt if I don’t act upon them.

Ok. OK! I’ll go see the doc!
I get offered meds. I’ll sit down and talk.
If it makes you feel better, I’ll even go today.
But really, I’m seriously, totally ok.

– Shaman Romney 2015

Mask(National Poetry Writing Month #12)   Leave a comment

Wear the mask, play the game,
make sure they always see.
The smiling man, the jester,
the thing you ought to be.

Don’t show your pain,
or your hurt, or your agony.
Your loved ones want a happy man,
that’s what you ought to be.

Don’t ever drop the visage,
don’t show the deeper being.
Pretend to be a happy man,
the thing you’ll never be.

The mask will never come off
The world will never see.
This image of the happy man
Will never be me.

Shaman Romney 2014

Posted 04/12/2014 by Shaman in National Poetry Writing Month 2014, Poetry

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