Stained-Glass House

By NarcissusNarcosis

In my house I sneak around like a mouse
although I live alone in this stained-glass home.
Have to be quiet or I incite a riot
of the ghosts to which I play host.

Watching movies, I star, the part so gloomy
changing channels of motivation with my remote-control imagination.
Writing with ink pens to fill pages of sin
the paper is soaking wet with yesterday's regrets.

No recollection of my past connections
tied to my present by a fuse, the future is blurred, colorless hues
I light tomorrow on fire just to watch it expire
wipe away the ashes next year, a reason to face my fears...

The purifier doesn't clean air, it filters despair
blowing out cigarette smoke, the smog my loss of hope.
My ashtrays are filled with idols I've burned and killed
no heroes left to hear me sing, they've all gone deaf from my screams.

Life in a fish tank flooded with useless things
a salt-shaker filled with sleeping pills and ground-up Benadryl
a vacuum that only puts more past dusts on the floor
and a telephone on the wall that only bill collectors call.

This is the dungeon in which I reside
the doors come alive to stop me from going outside.
My only contact is the Internet and my cell phone
reaching out, attempting to convince myself that I
am not
alone...

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Published on Tuesday, July 16, 2013. Filed under: "Poetry"

Comments on "Stained-Glass House"

A former member wrote: "Life in a fish tank flooded with useless things" . . . cough.driftwood. . . . "No recollection of my past connection / the future is blurred, colorless hues." Everything shaping together and mixing and curling, betraying fact from fantasy, riddled with discrepancy . . . "A telephone on the wall that only bill collectors call"--such a slithering double-meaning, there, I do believe . . . Every line in your works has such complexity--speak no-holds-barred reality. It's a shock to read how revealing they are--how absolutely true the topics covered are--while still allowing for the completely oblivious to tack on their own perceptions of meaning . . . "A vacuum that only puts more past dusts on the floor" . . . trying to clean up a mess and only managing to spread it all the more. The craftiness here lies in the fact that there's scores of unreachable, unfeasible elements of yours . . . hiding in plain sight.
A former member wrote: As always, great flow throughout. Especially love "Writing with ink pens to fill pages of sin / the paper is soaking wet with yesterday's regrets." Love the word plays made throughout the poem. I can identify with this poem on most days. Thank you for posting such great work.
On Wednesday, July 17, 2013, Devilish (2658) wrote:

For the first time in a while i am a lil speechless. none the less turned on. i'll use this tonight to reach my climax.. much love darling dark..
On Tuesday, July 16, 2013, Nehema (960) wrote:

"no hero's left to hear me sing, they've all gone deaf from my screams" I'm so glad you re-posted this one too, my second fav from before. May I request Bouncy Ball Insanity too? I'm really glad to see these, I am enjoying remembering why you were an instant classic - XXOO
On Wednesday, July 17, 2013, Nehema (960) wrote:

Or Vicious Cycle....mmmmm
A former member wrote: The whole first stanza is how I felt last night...Have to be quiet or I incite a riot...I really love this piece very much!
A former member wrote: sounds too much like my life. i echo your pain. you just keep getting better.
On Tuesday, July 16, 2013, blue angel (877) wrote:

Your clever ability to squeeze the essence out of each stanza shines in this haunting little tale, you evoke our imagination with vividness in detail. ~ "Watching movies, I star, the part so gloomy. changing channels of motivation with my remote-control imagination. writing with ink pens to fill pages of sin. the paper is soaking wet with yesterday's regrets." Simply brilliant, NN ;) ~^_^~ xxx
On Tuesday, July 16, 2013, dwells (4285) wrote:

One of your best and those regrets should be put to rest. Now get out and circulate before you become an agoraphobic - just don't engage any liberals in any intelligent discussions because they are pre-programmed, cheers and much enjoyed the isolation.
A former member wrote: "This is the dungeon in which I reside the doors come alive to stop me from going outside." my favorite lines, they really helped wrap the piece up. Good write :)
On Tuesday, July 16, 2013, haunted (850) wrote:

damn that's really kick ass gary! im loving your poems, they really have meaning and make sense. its nice to see how you word play so effortlessly. this one rocks man. awesome!
On Tuesday, July 16, 2013, The Black Lark (9) wrote:

Interesting and quite eery poem. I wish you would've elaborated more on the specific concept of the "stained-glass home" and perhaps have made it a bit more abstract. Those are just my preferences though. Nevertheless, a good write.