The tourism industry is the only thing keeping this place alive
You were the only sunshine when I found myself in this state of mind
I keep on swinging between packing my bags and wanting to stay
I try to make everything appear to be okay
No one cares about the inside, I know you only care about the display
My rib cage is riddled with urban decay.
I don't think I'll be able to fill my bag with all these memories
Let me push the memories away and replace them with reality
Let us build amusement parks around our debris
Let us trade our letdowns for hyperbole
Let us wear chains but swear that we're free
Let us ignore who we are
And become who everyone wants us to be.
You dance across that golden beach
The sun sets your hair aflame
The city behind doesn't compare to the stretch of nothingness reaching for the ocean
I get closer and you change at the blink of an eye
I don't know if it was the glint of the sunlight
Or the way you wanted me to see you
until my pockets became empty and my heart grew weary
I just want to talk with you about all of the wondrous things this world offers
But my eyes keep shifting back to the worst of it
And maybe that's because of the way this place is only what it wants the outsiders to see
It is constantly changing
A fickle beast looking for blood
Walking in this desert just looking for love
In a place so fake it's easy to lose trust
The real you is someone I think I forgot
I hit my highest point when I believed your facade
Everything changes and that person's gone
But the tickets keep on selling.
We are all tourists in one way or another
Packing everything we own and vacating our current homes
This place felt empty to me so I decided to leave
Adieu, adieu
Maybe I will see you again
Or maybe I'll be too busy wrapping the past in paper
Attempting to make it look better than it truly is.
[COMMENTARY: The title was a complete afterthought. I wanted a title for the poem that made sense but I could not find any line from the piece that I wanted the title to be derived from. I found out that the highest point in Florida is a place called Britton Hill. "Beneath Britton Hill" became the title as it talks a lot about what is really beneath a seemingly perfect place, person, or facade. Growing up in a fairly impoverished part of Florida, I do not think about beaches and vacation spots. I wanted to capture that struggle between real and fake in this poem. The 3rd verse kind of switches subjects and describes someone dancing across a beach, likely described to be a female. This is a representation of my mom though some have interpreted it as a significant other. The story behind the 3rd verse is that many people say that my mother was a completely different person before I, the firstborn, came along. After giving birth she changed for the worst. She was verbally and physically abusive to my dad and was not in the picture long. 'I hit my highest point when I believed your facade' was a line I wrote to demonstrate how perfect things seem in childhood. You are naive and do not realize what is going on until you are older and more mature. The poem originally was just titled "Britton Hill" and ended at the 3rd verse but "Beneath" was added to the title when I added the 4th verse later. The 4th verse is one of my favorites I have written. I think it wraps the poem up perfectly.]
This is different than what is probably posted on Tengaged so I hope y'all enjoyed it and got something from it. Please feel free to leave feedback, comment, or just +. Thank you for your time!
tryphena "you posted this on the most anti-poetic website ever" < an actual comment from the last time I tried posting poetry on here a few years back 馃槀
catch_a_falling_star I actually think that is exactly what she has. It is tough because this 2as written last year when I found she has a whole new family and new kids and she apparently doesn't count me among them. This was written during a span of time I was trying to come to grips that feeling of deep rejection. Though I am certainly not entirely past it.
