Laughing like the Sun

If you find it difficult to understand, you know you're on the right track. It's a nightmare come to life, after all. Excluding all the scientifically impossible bits, which is pretty much the whole poem. Lol!

My soul, impure.

My spirit, tainted.

Myself, broken.

Many faces, painted.

A vast array of souls in the Empire Exhibition.

All boasting colours of dead inhibition.

And mine?

Sorry, I'm colour-blind.

I prefer not to slide down the rainbow of some retarded leprachaun

With his pot of gold (Miser!) and his Irish Setter called Scorn.

 

Dancing skulls and grey smoke,

Pink eyeballs and beauty unspoke,

Tip-toeing from soul to soul.

Banishing friends,

And Death personified.

He will make me suffer forever.

My Yellow Jester.

 

Red and black and golden bells screaming

An ode of ridicule to make me wake up in my dreams,

Wearing nothing but boxers in a gaping-mouthed classroom.

A cold shower in the Mo(u)rning of my Life.

 

He just stood there,

Silently,

Staring,

A sardonically woven voo-doo doll with lidless eyes.

Baring his teeth,

Their yellow surface

Blinding me with

An absence of friends,

With which I sow the soil of my barren Purgatory, my world.

 

Those teeth,

Those teeth,

Grinding and grinning at me

With their own plastic faces.

 

'You are alone,' he tells me. 'And you always will be.'

 

And he laughed...

 

And laughed...

 

And laughed...

 

And all I did

Was stand there,

Taking it in,

Absorbing the aura of torment into my hollow cocoon that I call a body.

That Glasgow smile that haunts my dreams,

Emanating from his soul,

Like a Joker, with style, from Hell...

or maybe Heaven?

I don't know.

I don't know who wants me anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You know what? That laugh?

 

 

 

It kinda hurt....and it still does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

'Empire Exhibition': the place were this incident, the basis of the poem, happened, was a cinema called Empire.
I hate the colour yellow. Also, its supposed to symbolise a yellow sun. Sort of like the sun, the only thing that provides light, lies to you. Plus, I hate staying in the sun for more than 15 minutes. It gives me migraines. Lol.
The whole 'waking up in a classroom wearing nothing but your boxers' theme is a common nightmare which many children have, so I thought I would mention it.

Reviews

[Mark D. Chevalier]

I don't care for the Sun either. Too many years spent in Florida working under it.
This was an incredible poem! There was mix of things that made me lean forward with the intensity of it, and smile.
"I prefer not to slide down the rainbow of some retarded leprachaun. With his pot of gold (Miser!) and his Irish Setter called Scorn." Couldn't help but smile at that one.
You have a smooth style, and the verse catches the eyes and compells you to move down the page. And I can certainly relate to nightmares. I think as writers and poets our minds are in over-drive constantly.
Great work!
Mark

[Angelic Darkness]

You brought this nightmare to life with such vivid images!
This is a twisted puzzle of mazes here...I felt like I need to run;).

AD

[Adela Muresan]

Wow 0_0 ...

The association of the evil with the joker is great, and the pain caused by the laugh expressed so plainly in the end creates a great effect; and btw slam imagery =D.

*****Poem.

A.M.

[Aspiring Angel]

My visits with you are always intreging to say the very least. This one captured me from beginning to end. I hate nightmares. They seem to stay with you forever and haunt you at the oddest times. This is one nighmare that although I wouldn't wish nightmares on anyone LOL I am glad it was yours and not mine.

Hugs,
Lesa

[chloe cruz]

Hehe, thanks for entering this in the "Your Done" contest. I enjoyed this piece, a ton. How you explained everything was great. Your rhyming flowed...
My soul, impure.

My spirit, tainted.

Myself, broken.

Many faces, painted.

A vast array of souls in the Empire Exhibition.

All boasting colours of dead inhibition.

And mine?

Sorry, I'm colour-blind.

I prefer not to slide down the rainbow of some retarded leprachaun

With his pot of gold (Miser!) and his Irish Setter called Scorn.

Your first part was really clever, and the whole, "Sorry, I'm colour-blind," bit was perfection in rhyming!
Thanks, again!

[Beautifully_Anarchist]

Brilliant! Great imagery, wonderful style, and it totally makes you wanna' keep reading! Definitly one of my favourite poems off this site! (And I hate the colour yellow it makes me feel sick, oh and I get migraines - so weird!) Congrats on a really good piece of work :)

[Donna DeLong Matthews a..]

This held my attention from first word to last
really good flow... I say a two thumbs up
Thanks for share'n
Donna

[Jennifer Elizabeth]

I love it. I love the uncommitted ryhming, the imigary & the vocabulary. Excellent work.

[Arwen]

I agree the poem was very good, it kept me wanting to read more of it. great work. keep it up :-)

[.:Naiira Harlow:.]

Very dark indeed. It has a very strong feeling behind it. Good work.

[Poeticpiers]

Certainly has surreal air to it as nigtmares often do.Even inpleasant dreams we accept the impossible as being normal Presented well in good clear poetic prose