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A Poem by Namaa Hammond

In the studio where we first slept, I was lying down on feasible, broken shells
I wish I stayed flowing in my green tie-dye dress
There is another life for you to hold and to kiss, and now I have my self to amiss
My last bargain was never dismissed
some feet below, in my final enuresis

Permanently, I'm looking up from my bed of ancient shells
Now for eternity, I am corrupting in hell
Without a voice and breath, I questioned myself,
Why were you not so good to yourself?

If I reeled the strings back into our room, and refused
I would still be blooming and singing right to next to you
We would be baking and making fun of the news, then listening to rock and roll, and the blues

The music and strumming slowly faded into a trance
There was no final chance
Here's what he came back for
The devil wanted to dance
I trialed for my purposeness
But grieve grew out of my own hands

Then came a day my vision slowly fell like thick rain
The devil got too close to me, every time he went away
The nights not recalled, blew zephyrs back into the cloud
The sound of silence was now close to my ears like thunder, but violently loud

16-gauge steel, there they were, my new walls, but not just for now
The lonely sounds of shovels grew as the dirt hauled, and I hear my final bell
The devil wants to dance straight into hell

There is no kingdom for a recreational corrupted dreamer
Here is the truth, it is from the grim reapers
He will seek and implant the daze
then seek and seize away all of the days
From the gallows, my hellos led to farewells
Standard steel or mahogany, now I bid my own farewells
Marigold hailed upon me, no longer growing above the stilts
My visit came maniacally, but the exit was very skilled

The music echoed and came up on a well
But I'm forsaken, and I can't escape this cell
I could not make up for the ones I love the most and wish them well
There is nothing else to lose but myself

That said and done, I'm still in my cold and velvet grey room
It gets even lonelier when I lye under your tears, smell, and your new black shoes

Deformity still shrils in my mind, providing unnatural wavelengths
Conspiricizing while I was flying over cloud 99
Falling down the Virginia blue bell path, I miss the smell of the sage and the cigarette ash
Without warning I crept into a casket, I'm wrapped in a cast

Home is not so far from here, yet it is the farthest
Now I have accepted that it's my time to pass
The hill, that once traced my footprints, hold it inside a little satchet
With a peice of my heart, especially if you had to go through it
I have no rememberance of the steps, Steep and south,
clear your minds of sorrow and clean out your old skin
clear your mind free from your own sin
This is the one life we get and it can get snatched out and disembodied
Make peace with your highest power, because after the sand showers, the clock will drop our bodies, and there is no watchtower .

© 2020 Namaa Hammond


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Added on January 18, 2020
Last Updated on January 18, 2020