Poems: Dance, Untitled, and Repeating Myself
Today, I wrote a few new poems. The first one is about fake chicks, dancing in a masquerade. Its pretty odd around the edges. The next poems are some without a title. Nothing too far out there. The final poem is about repetition. I really got to get something new to write about. Everything is oblivion this, pity's woes that. I have been thinking of writing some love poems. At least some silly poems. In any case, these new poems of mine deserve 5 stars rating.
Dance
by Teresita Blanco
Dance,
dance,
Ye,
elegant ladies.
So
quaint, so hollow.
They
turn, turn, turn,
With
their white hollowed masks.
Look at
them, they paint their faces.
With a
mockery of life’s colors.
They
refuse to admit,
That
they are dead, dead, dead.
Watch
these hollow maidens
Turn,
turn, turn.
The
music has yet to burn.
Let them
sing once more.
Dance,
look at their pose.
They
have no eyes,
They
are cold!!
Untitled
by Teresita Blanco
1
50 miles
and counting,
It’s a
slippery slope,
And down
we go.
Into the
deep;
He
swallows us whole.
2
The cold
Shower of yesterday
Has
sobered me from my dreams.
3
I am the
first, the last, the middle,
I am the
hero of all your zeros.
4
Drink
the poisoned chalice,
Within
it lies true salvation.
Forget
all conversation
Raise that
poisoned malice,
Only
then you will bear
Those
thousand cold stares.
Repeating Myself
by Teresita Blanco
I grow
tired
Of
repeating myself.
The same
old songs,
The same
old hymns.
If I
struggle to rise up,
I gaze
behind and witness
My
Pity’s woes.
I cannot
lie
Confi’
in my bed forever.
I must
break free
And use
my hands.
That day
I will
Discard
delusional light,
In order
to fill
My empty
belly with iron.
I grown
tired of repeating myself,
The same
cold songs, and hymns.
Copyright Teresita Blanco
You do not have permission to use my poems without my express written consent.