nicholas j.m

trying to be a poet for the 6th time

[1-00am]

lanky trees shivering in sharpened wind,

hives of insects curling up together, hell,

even the sun has a jacket of clouds on —   

so why do i continue frigidly unburdened,

unbeaten, no malice or affliction when

warmths touch is still all of my desire.

— one day til winter truly springs, n.j.

[1-00am]

relationships built on stilts of shying away

tend to be structurally unsound and not lasting,

design it with integrity;

   with passion,   with fun,  with fear, with embarrassment.

lay down the base without sight of perfection,

but a future of being complete and secure.

— construction of a healthy whole, n.j.

[1-00am]

i made friends with a raven today

he captured the sky in his eyes

as blue as they were beautiful.

we sat for a while, in silence

he was only there to share a moment;

listening to the wind cutting through trees

turning into a concerto of wondrous strings.

- corvus, n.j

[1-00am]

i often catch myself staring at cracks in the ceiling

my mind perusing them absently and dearly.

before they were battered, they were beautiful -

conceived lovingly and intently by its maker.

though as far as the rules of time exist

the ceiling will everlongingly wither

as all things do break apart.

— entropy speaks with a sharp tongue, n.j.

[1-00am]

I'd never thought much of myself - though in the reflections of her glowing, beauteous eyes, I discovered pride and worth and warmth.

// you’ve helped me learn a thing or three, n.j.

[1-00am]

passenger car passing scenery

waning unto its destination,

all outside an indecipherable blur.

concentrate, affix your attention,

singular point yonder eyes agape;

a glimpse of clarity caught, now, I know.

— where are you travelling today, friend?, n.j.

[1-00am]

“your poetry needs work…”

“it wasn’t poetry”

“what isn’t?”

[1-00am]

“now... most things;

eventually, everything.

but always notes scrawled

forever in your blue tinted eyes.”

sighing at the words too tangled,

laying restless, though at peace:

“notes written for you, love,

though shying, too flush

to meet judgements held dear;

in your eyes,     your soul,      your smile and your heart”.

— à mon vie, mon espoir (i stole a few words hidden in your notes) n.j.

[1-00am]

— this tired boy (@1-00am) and a constellation skinned beauty (@les-avis).

She came across me years ago when all I posted was depressed, unimpressing poetry - apparently my words reached further than I knew, since she’s only now had a tumblr for a week.

All these years later, we met at the right place & in the right moment of our still short lives; students of design, with knowledge that informed design is good design & the information makes sense that we’d be pretty damn good permanent installations in one another’s lives.

[1-00am]

opaque old selves hands unlinked,

ghosts of ghosts no longer refracting

imagery of the form now not yourself.

light now, absorbed, so full of colour

forming signals to opaque old selves:

hands swaying saying goodbye.

— even mirrors only show you the past, you know?, n.j.

[1-00am]

our final conversation, not poetry.

unsourced maddened, more nothing.

all my unspoken yet written words

nothing, nothing, not a piece of thought.

nothing, nothing, nothing, anechoic.

chamber of silence, less than a ghost.

— wintered flowers die, n.j.

[les-avis]

[1-00am]

underachieving wasteful youth

better spent in kissing booths;

“success dressed too modestly”,

though with that I do so blossom

accomplish tending blows’ to soften.

— thoughts of whom I care, response (i), n.j.

[writerscreed]

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[1-00am]

surrounding topography morphs

neither new nor yet malnourished.

perspective, a luxury fresh birthed

as midnight hits, I am surrounded

for four walls freshly painted: “home”.

— the coastline isn’t always eroding, n.j.

[1-00am]

— Send me some prompts, fellows.

Names, numbers, seasons, times, colours and on and on, give me something darlings. The easy link for it is in this sentence. <3

I’ll write in the morning, despite my title, it’s almost 1:00am and I should rest.

(nicholas john, 20.04.17, 12:43am)

[1-00am]

leaves scared to shivers

pale veined bodies

now wither

alone.

— ebbing flowe, n.j.

[1-00am]

— This is just a weird kind of journal entry, or update, I guess.

Last week struck me hard, might have been too many hours in a hospital or too little alone, able to be stuck in my own mind. Many uncontrollable changes in short time - yet to be seen how it’ll all turn out, though I have optimism as a surprise.

Everyone’s healthy enough, I’ve got the sniffles and the most clinically unsound thing my partner’s exhibiting is just speaking in tongues while sleep-talking.

Back to my plan of making things interesting when I can, though I’m back to doing coursework next week, so the least I could do was write something little.

If you’re reading this, have a nice day, night and future. 

(nicholas john, 19.04.17, 11:06pm)