Voluntary Oblivion
Roaming free in voluntary oblivion
away from a life of imposed opinion.
There is not much to say,
but more to do.
Let us eradicate races
and look deeper into people's faces.
The eyes speak
and the mouth dries up the tongue sometimes.
Blindness creates worlds of words in rhymes
and once upon a time we had good times.
She sees images and experiences auditory hallucinations
she rummages to find the slightest inspiration.
There was once a loss
a terrible and tragic loss.
A traumatizing, disturbing, and shocking loss.
There was once a loss
a loss for words.
There was once a loss of all human emotion
there was once a destitution
of all responsive inclination.
There was once a loss
of the father of them all, imagination.
There was once apathy
just as there once was telepathy.
There was once a time where eyes showed no desire
and there was only the faces all of them different
all of them tasteless ablaze and perspired.
Pleasure is jaded and coiled up and driving about
the hallowed roads into insinuated profanity.
Heaven's illusion has taken us all down
to the mistress of mystery and insanity.
There could be oneness in the delusion.
There could be friendship in the intrusion.
There could be gaps
but all in all, it is really just a load of crap.
A trap disguised as an X on a treasure map.
How lovely would it be to sleep on my lap
as the day drifts and the burden lifts?
Shoulders can only hold so much,
boulders can only be lifted by touch.
Where is my muse and what happened to the way I used to write?
Where is my muse and what happened to enjoying those sleepless nights?
I'm not amused, and I thought of a fight - but you forgot that there was a loss.
There was once a terrible and tragic loss.
There was once apathy,
and I receive no more of your messages through telepathy.
I am not amused
and you are not my muse.
poem by Natasha Hochar
Added by Poetry Lover
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