Hi-low

[Keerott]

Alright, on a whim I came here to see what was going on...I eventually realized that the very last post I ever made here was a song/poem thing-a-majig that made me sound like I probable killed myself a week later, which seemed pretty D to the n messed up so I deleted that and am going to leave a much happier but still somewhat morbid poem instead. I might leave one every once in awhile because quite frankly I have to many for them to not be read, and I might begin to frequent more often since I'm always up until 2 in the AM anyway.


Hidden Treasure

Billy Clash climbed to the top of the hill
He began to dig a hole
He just wanted for his life to feel full
as he dug at the top of the hill

Nonsensical ramblings of a broken man
Babies cooing, how are you ma’am
Billy he dug and dug that hole
That boy he was looking for his soul

His soul he may never find
His mama thinks he’s outta his mind
Poppop tells him to dig away
what harm can it do anyway

He don’t know why he digs in that spot
Something inside tells him to plot
That boy he just keeps on digging and digging
No one knows if he’ll ever stop

Billy dug until he found some bones
A hand clenching to a photo of a man and a baby
Billy dug until he found a badge and picture
William Clash Sr. was the name

Critique if you please.

[the1truesushiboy]

Very nice. I've never been able to write narrative poetry, myself; any story is lost in symbolism. I liked it.

[Keerott]

Thanks, I really appreciate that, now to disappear into the night like some kind of night...disappearing...thing..

[the1truesushiboy]

Like the stars when it's cloudy.

[Odin]

Keerot!!! you're alive!