NAMELESS MOMENTS
By Harold Barnes
NAMELESS MOMENTS
This poem
Is s proxy
A placeholder
For every lapse
In my memory
It represents
The fullness of
My life
A sum of all
The nameless moments
That shaped me
The underside
Of the coin
The greater of
Two evils
PARANOID
I fear these words
Have already been
Read
By an unseen eye
That the secret
To my
Soul
Is detailed in plain
To some nefarious
Observer
My future is frozen in
The pages of an ancient
Tome
Rotting in the bookcase
Of a higher power
A greater being is
Bored of my ideas
Before they inspire me
He summarizes my work
Whilst I formulate it
New beginnings are
Simultaneously tired
Endings
THRESHOLD
I feel
Sufficiently
Desperate
To write this poem
The ink will
Not flow
If the pain
Is inadequate
The pressure
On my heart
Must be oceanic
To breech
The dam
And unleash my passion
The entropy
In my mind
Must surpass
A stratospheric
Threshold
It is no easy task
But i feel
Desperate
Confused
And hysterical
Enough
To warrant these
Words and
Epitomize my
Misery
DEVIL SOLD HIS SOUL
The Devil sold his soul
To me
For no more than my
Sympathy
A place to rest
His heavy head
And send his worries
Off to bed
He merely wants
To chew my ear
Tell me the things
That he most fears
To open up his
Weary heart
And watch his woes
Quickly depart
I took his offer
Without stint
Tucked his spirit
In pocket lint
Kissed him on his
Wrinkled brow
And for receipt
Gave him my vow
THE IDIOT
One thing remains
Constant
In my fluid
Existence
That I never
Miss an opportunity
To be foolish
Humiliation is attached
To me
A heavy shadow
An unwelcome appendage
Yet i embrace my
Status
Whole heartedly
I fill my niche
Molding perfectly to its
Contours
Absorbing the knowledge
It avails me
Forever learning
New and inventive ways
To remain an
Idiot
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