The Dead Are Not Buried

It’s easy to feel paranoid
When you decide you’re at ease
With anxiety and fear,
When the people you love
Grow tired of your circles
And scratch pictures in the soil,
Faces with their eyes closed,
Messages of tired neglect,
Memories overtaken by dreams.
It’s easy to think the world is a haven
From bad people’s nightmares
And subtle destruction,
Just stare into the sky,
Lose your eyes in the light
And dance through the sun spots,
Most were born to just natter
And look gently at things,
The dead are not buried.
It’s easy to stumble around late at night,
The ground is uneven
When the dark explores brooding,
TV repeats itself like bad food,
Doubts whisper lonely
And the old floorboards moan,
Heartache is the best excuse
To rot like broken soldiers,
If only we had faith.


2 Responses to “The Dead Are Not Buried”

  1. poetrysamateur Says:

    Thats a deep poem, personally i prefer poems that rhyme but i still liked yours.

  2. I love your surreal mind. You use it well and i’m highly impressed. Unlike this gentlemen who posted a comment before me, I don’t believe poems have to rhyme. I believe a poem is imagination and smarts at it’s best.. And you have shown that well. I will be reading.

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