Replay.

4 Comments

Poem Commentary

Lonely days and gray skies. thats my life but I am happy if you can define the word.

Replay.

Why does life feel like the movie groundhogs day.

Were every thing is consecutive like a video tape that keeps getting replayed.

It boggles me to think that five thousand miles away people who are different are doing the same thing as me.

They say we all have a predetermined destiny.

Well if that destiney is walking around in circles for the rest of my life.

Then some one hand me a knife.

Let me cut away my frustrations and gut my eternity.

For who wants to be a rewind button floating in a replay sea.

They say that hell is a place with out god, and I seem to find that a little odd.

Cause this world is a place with out god, only in are hearts if we choose is he there.

But all around us is lustful and greedy air.

Who's to say that greed and lust aren't apart of being bored.

Cause every day for me is like liven in a useless horde(group of people).

Where Stan does this and bob does that.

All to come home at night, go to sleep, wake up, and come back.

I cant stand it I'm going insane.

Yet every body tells me its me its all in my brain.

So maby I am alone in a dashavu day.

But from were im standing you look like your doing the same things the same way.

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Ravoya commented on Replay.

09-02-2009

wow, yes mylife feels like that. but wow, yeah. love it. if possible id rate u infinity and beyond cause its that awesome

chucky1982 commented on Replay.

08-31-2009

bravo! i love dark poetry. there isnt very much on here. im from indianapolis so its nice to see a person from indiana

joeskeet

09/02/2009

Well think you. I think if they legalize marijuana maby I could stop writing dark poetry.

am2anangel commented on Replay.

08-31-2009

Very well done, I enjoyed the rhythm and flow. There are a couple grammatical errors I will share privately with you, however very well done. I enjoyed it.

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

joeskeet’s Poems (4)

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