Thoughts Of A Wannbe Artist

Before an artist is an artist what are they? Insta: Poor_Joe Twitter: PoorJoe_TOAWA

[robin24poems15]

Nightmares...

I really should let go of many things

Shadows that appear in nightmares,

The man with grey eyes.

I lay watching the ghosts of my fears dance,

A memory of another time, little me

The never ending nightmare.

They made sure it endured.

Now they think they can appear

Take my things, destroy my healing,

Burn my poems: I am enraged.

As I walk through nightmares now,

I procrastinate, Oh I struggle.

Finally I start to dream instead

Am I living? Where have they gone?

The ghosts? They are dust.

I see the man with grey eyes

I dream we are holding hands,

We are dancing in circles in the dark,

I am happy, I am smiling,

I think I must be in heaven. 

[poor-joe]

Midday Poetry

Who I am isn’t unique,

A simple man with simple needs.

My words flutter when I speak,

I’m always looking at my feet.

When the sun is the brightest I walk the streets,

Hoping, maybe, someone will notice me.

[poor-joe]

Excerpt | Two’s Day Doom |

Poorjoe.art

[poor-joe]

There are two versions of me

And one is a lie

There is the one you see

and the one I hide

https://www.poorjoe.art/muse

MUSE — poor joe

[poor-joe]

Two’s-day Doom • Part 2

The two’s-day doom, locked in a room

A two-step groove, we dance to

Repetitious records playing your life’s tunes

Of fruitless fruit And blessings unused

A smile and a sun, rays on your face

A Sociopath’s mind or dreaming during the day

Abused and amused, crazed and dazed

Annual aberrations, the definition of insane

Luckily lucky, touched by the sun

Shape shifting, and blessed by the moon

Violently vigorous, for momentary fun

Patiently pessimistic, an unyielding sense of doom

~ poor joe

[poor-joe]

Two’s-day Doom • Part 1

I feel touched by the sun

And blessed by the moon

Yet I dust and shine

The four corners of this room

Heaven and hell envy this gift

How little effort

Can achieve this bliss

So, with a smile

I dismiss, what’s been sent

I’m comfortable here

In my bed, my element

Curtains up, let the sun and moon

Shine in this room

Still can’t shake

This unyielding sense of doom

~poor Joe

[poor-joe]

Free Fall

This is not a poem

This is just an expression

I wanna talk about how I feel

When it comes to depression

See my father shows it in aggression

And my mother learned to suppress it

And me

I show it in perfection.

Neither happy or sad

Just hopelessly suspended

~ poor Joe

[poor-joe]

To Be

To be the cream of the crop

Is driven by madness

To be the pick of the litter

Is driven by loveliness

I want to be neither

Driven by loneliness

To be the best of the best

Driven by absoluteness

~ poor joe

[poor-joe]

Share your original poetry, discover new poems daily, and make meaningful connections with a global community of poets and poetry enthusiast

Check out my poem Who Knew.

[poor-joe]

“I work diligently to hear the quiet of success”

~ Poor Joe

[poor-joe]

Stir-crazy

I confuse myself

(With words)

Trying to distract myself

(With words)

Growing frustration

(With words)

And broken contracts

(With words)

My brain consumed

(With words)

Of a nautical voyage

(With words)

Drowning

(With words)

Burying my treasures

(With Words)

Poor Joe

[poor-joe]

The thumping of the drums

Get louder by the year

The head filled with music

That shouldn’t be there

Seems like a new world

And when did it get here

~ Poor Joe

[poor-joe]

“The furthest I can scream out

Is only as far as I can throw my pen”

~Poor Joe

[poor-joe]

https://youtu.be/GC7mPJVlO_o

Like the New Year.

This is the beginning of something.

[tendermimi]

Mary Oliver, ‘north country’

[poor-joe]

CHARLIE HAS A VOICE

I’m no longer restless

Or wonder on things,

There is no alternate world

No fabricated truths

Or time to be aloof,

There is no young man

No mistakes to be taken,

I see no thrill

of something new,

No misguided emotions

Nothing to wallow in,

Friends and family

All in harmony

No diversity in my visions

A rant of calculated decision

A tidy room

With one one painting on the wall

Charlie Chaplin

Or an artist

Who can no longer talk.

[cruxymox]

it was like a cruel winter without snow

lost in a storm where wind forgot to blow

a flower drained of color

mystery without wonder

or on a distant river that lost its flow