{"id":4910,"date":"2013-03-08T06:00:39","date_gmt":"2013-03-08T11:00:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.allandouglas.com\/blog\/?p=4910"},"modified":"2025-04-21T01:56:41","modified_gmt":"2025-04-21T05:56:41","slug":"walls","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/walls\/","title":{"rendered":"Walls"},"content":{"rendered":"

At no point in my life have I ever thought of myself as a poet.\u00a0 Most days I could not write poetry to save my life.\u00a0 But once in a while – when in a highly charged emotional state – something that resembles poetry drips from the point of my pencil.\u00a0 None of this has ever been published – or even submitted anywhere – but I thought I’d toss out a piece or two and see if it floats.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

WALLS<\/b><\/p>\n

\"walls,<\/p>\n

Oh, how I hate the walls.
\nEntraping, confining, restricting.
\nI’ve wandered through their labyrinthic confines all my life,
\nAnd never known happiness.
\nExcept once.
\nFor one fleeting moment, a spark of freedom broke in
\nLike a ray of sunlight in the darkness.
\nI held it to my breast, kissed it and cherished it.
\nMy heart rejoiced with the feel of it.
\nAnd I was whole.
\nThen it was gone.
\nShut out by the seething black-heartedness of those walls,
\nSealing out even that one moment of happiness.
\nIn rage, I launched against the walls.
\nI flailed the walls with my fists until they were torn and bruised.
\nThe stones mocked me with their bloodied stains.
\nThey thrived on my misery.
\nI withdrew.
\nClosing in upon myself until there was nothing but myself.
\nAnd in my own private world,
\nI began to plot against them.
\nHow I would cheat them.
\nI would steal from them their very source of nourishment.
\nIn death I would exit this hall of pain.
\nAs I sunk happily into the dark abyss,
\nSelf-amused with the joke,
\nMy spirit suddenly cried out in anguish.
\nFor I found that death is but a door
\nLeading to more walls!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

At no point in my life have I ever thought of myself as a poet.  Most days I could not write poetry to save my life.  But once in a while – when in a highly charged emotional state – something that resembles poetry drips from the point of my pencil.  None of this has … Continue reading “Walls”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[44],"tags":[56,85],"class_list":["post-4910","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-creative","tag-mental-health","tag-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4910","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4910"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4910\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21560,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4910\/revisions\/21560"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4910"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4910"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4910"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}