Be Patient Poem by Poet Dragon

Be Patient



I will the furor into the white spaces crowding closely on the page,
keeping their contrast only because the words need to speak.
I dream of death and hope the page will hold it all-
all the dreams, turned larcenous like nightmares...

Except there seem to be no happy thoughts to bring them darkness...so they are bland.
I watch the matter of my makeup bursting into fractal inconsistencies; E=MC2 and the world burns in a flash leaving behind the torrent of my withered, twisted hopes...fleeing...running the paths of hyperspace

And trying to see the worlds of wonder before they burn away...
knowing that this feeling...this terrible feeling will fade away, and realizing that so will you and so will my...and everything...all gone like the pain in my chest that I call anxiety and depression and happiness and anger and power and love-all depending on what day it is and what little sparks light larger fires and what fields burn in the bonfire,

What fields burn, what forests burn, what dreams burn...Knowing the long poem from my childhood is as effervescent as my childhood...as effervescent as the pull of my hormones twitching happily, struggling with the repression I place on them until my body is a civil war and my mind is bloody and angry and wishing me to not call Grant like he asked, before I pull the...jump the...pop the...cut my...end it all...

And knowing that Someone stronger still stays my hand and laughs so tenderly at my raging self and picks me up from the ashes...dusting me off and wiping the tears from my eyes and patting my bottom and telling me to go play nice with the others...

And give that pretty girl a flower and a peck on the cheek because you might never get the chance again...and say my prayers at night, and don't sit too close to the TV and make sure to go outside and exercise and when you finally fall asleep...I'll be there waiting for you in your dreams...

Your happy dreams...sweet dreams...like candied apples and cotton candy and that whirling feeling you get in your gut at the theme park, and that wonderful, contented feeling you get when you smell your father's study or when you sit quietly by the river and listen to the trees sway in the wind,

And the water purls as it flows downhill and the birds twitter and dance with playful squirrels as the bears mill around catching their dinner and the cougars creep to the waters edge and the rabbits hop around keeping close to their holes...but not so close anymore...and all is green and grand....

I'll be there. Be patient.

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Poet Dragon

Poet Dragon

Pine Bluff, AR
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