Weeds and Confetti

observations of various people's behaviour - with a reoccurring theme of denial

 

 

Weeds and Confetti

Ribbons folded in a drawer,
Everything has its place,
So stand on your side, and I’ll stay on mine,
Keep this distance, great crevasse ever widening,
Everyone has their place.

Keys lost in someone’s pocket,
They will be found eventually,
So hide in the forest, and I shan’t tell,
Eyes glow in the dark, taking in the moonlight,
You’ll be found out eventually.

Makeup covering her face,
Skin not the same beneath the surface,
Playing masquerade, as the bonfire burns,
The truth meanders, twisted through ravines,
We’re not the same beneath the surface.

Black ink has stained the carpet,
Some things will never come out,
Sew your lips shut, and quiet your children,
Let ivy grow over the walls, hide the rust,
Some things will never be let out.

Pulling weeds in the garden,
But you know they will come again,
Lock up the heretic, cut out his tongue,
Voice worn calling out, your wondrous god is dead,
I know it will happen again.

The ribbon is now confetti,
All of the locks have been changed,
The smudged makeup washed away,
The carpet torn up from the floor,
And the so-called weeds, have flowers.

 

Reviews

[Adela Muresan]

Great description of the sharp pain caused by falsity.
I like the ending...optimistic but not very realistic :) . Nice work.

A.M.

[Miss Shea]

talk about unmasking someone to show their true colors. from beauty to grotesque, and from a duckling to a swan.

you're words are strung together eloquently, forming true poetry.

bravo, Beautifully_Anarchist. :}

[EVERYTHINGyoucantelltoS..]

Makeup covering her face,
Skin not the same beneath the surface,
Playing masquerade, as the bonfire burns,
The truth meanders, twisted through ravines,
We're not the same beneath the surface.

i love the recurring images and the denial. it adds humanity. or rather, human-ness, to better explain myself. i like how everything is kept in its own rythm, but the rythm isnt even melodic until the very end. when you realize it.

The ribbon is now confetti,
All of the locks have been changed,
The smudged makeup washed away,
The carpet torn up from the floor,
And the so-called weeds, have flowers.

the tie-ins, here especially, are really quite nice, and add to the lense upon rereading. and of course... i adore the title.