Memory

I write poetry - he/him 18+ I take requests for blackout poems

[forgetful-poems]

Topical one!

❤️ ❤️

doing the odyssey

[forgetful-poems]

What do you think spies are: priests, saints, and martyrs? They’re a squalid procession of vain fools, traitors too, yes; pansies, sadists, and drunkards, people who play cowboys and Indians to brighten their rotten lives. Do you think they sit like monks in London balancing the rights and wrongs? I’d have killed Mundt if I could, I hate his guts; but not now. It so happens that they need him. They need him so that the great moronic mass that you admire can sleep soundly in their beds at night. They need him for the safety of ordinary, crummy people like you and me.

John le Carré, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold

answering @cavepaintermama's blackout request ❤️

[forgetful-poems]

If you see this and have a request, I do blackout poems for any text ❤️

[havingapoemwithyou]

Beach by Stanley Plumly

[forgetful-poems]

❤️

[forgetful-poems]

KEEP IN TOUCH

When I'm gone

From you

Long time, now

We're further from the truth

I miss the real you

It's not an idea that I miss,

there was a dismissive thought,

where I caught a glimpse of the real you.

So different when we meet,

same eyes to retreat from

indifference and sympathy;

seems timid and sweet.

Give me a name, baby

Keep in touch

[forgetful-poems]

ROYALTY, SNAKES AND SHADOWS - 7/24/2026

When I was depressed

I watched my dishes mold

and I imagined

I'm the eye of the storm

So I was playing poker

And I saw the dragon,

while I was silent spider

of this web, I roamed

Then when I cheated

I was manic

so I blamed the dragon

And I blamed the insect

As these clouds formed

There was another,

I saw the serpent

And all it touched

turned to mold.

I watched Snake eat royals

From the eye of the storm.

I stared into the mirror of my stronghold.

Inside the mirror

I saw red and gold,

I saw myself, The Dragon

I saw the cobwebs form.

I was the eye of the storm

To whom Entropy calls

All clouds withdrawn

For the Serpent's Maw.

[forgetful-poems]

THIRST

Sleep ringing a bell in my brain

Someone slept the day away

alarming thought is yesterday

pausing my problems

sleep through my self conscious

crumpling my appetite

im on running water

As the water softens

I think and feel out

I'm being dragged

by my eyelashes

at the speed of the anxious planet,

but i never go

i'm simply ripped apart

through a bottle in the park,

shaving then aftershave;

i run after her enslaved heart.

Now, someone is punching bag in my brain

Emptying this container of thoughts

And shaking the loose change,

hoping to sell my loss.

Sifting through his tantric pose

i find no enlightenment

Sitting up like starving Buddha,

searching for aspirin.

[forgetful-poems]

RENAULT - 11/23/2025

Maybe it's because she holds

my arm like a teddy bear

Maybe i forgot my retainer

Maybe it's because i forgot

how to live, that she's blameless

You are the only source of my strength

That strength's a mistake

You are the only thing that's safe

and sound,

And I might just survive

with all your might.

How my lover tried to surround,

suffocate, correct our fate;

it was easier to throw it out.

Different song

When I spread my wings

I won't be here long

I lift off, singing, gone

So I sigh to

all the birds in the sky

all the air that

doesn't care about my

troubles, a heart in rubble;

burned out light,

like the times that dim

as my memory simmers,

boiling in the steam of sleep.

[academia-lucifer]

@academia-lucifer

[forgetful-poems]

❤️

[forgetful-poems]

FRAIL - 7/22/2026

My destiny's in superposition

My toes are wasps

My hairs are spiders

My lungs are a heat gun,

dry and tired;

drag in air

and breathe out fire.

Sigh as I put out the fires.

The dragon pouts,

pounds the liar;

Figure out the dire sound,

what's big isn't always loud.

Take flight, stay quiet

Listen to the clouds;

What goes up

may rain down

Like a fountain of lies

spewing from the mouth,

Gasoline doused

over every scale;

Every particle pale,

paltry, crawling.

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Time passing isn’t an apology. (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

[forgetful-poems]

Isn't time an apology? ❤️

[oldwinesoul]

It's July and I have hope in who I am becoming.

// Charlotte Eriksson Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself

[forgetful-poems]

There's hope in July ❤️

[forgetful-poems]

FUSION - July, 2026

I wish my desperation

outweighed my fear.

I lilt at the scales,

for thought of a future

where song will appear.

It is sickly, soft, sought after.

It's the taste of salt water,

and my rash, free of rot,

raw under wooden ships.

These nails, these claws call to it.

O, Theseus gnaws at the ready

to drop planks. They're in our mouths,

testing the splintered waste.

I withdraw my fingers.

Stare at the nub and wait.

The stump and log separate,

Rejoice, celebrate!

The scales are falling weights,

Rejoice, recalibrate!

We know of treasures locked away,

and bitter weather's on the way;

no better few deserve the weight,

Said, "all the world's my ash tray."

[prokopetz]

I know this is due to my particular constellation of interests, but for me the funniest thing about the "everything in a given century happened simultaneously" view of history being applied to the 1900s is bumping into increasing numbers of people who are genuinely unclear on whether Dungeons & Dragons pre-dates or post-dates The Lord of the Rings.

[forgetful-poems]

I'm still unclear ❤️

[recolored-classics]

Vase with Daisies and Anemones (1887) by Vincent van Gogh

[forgetful-poems]

MELT - 7/14/2026

inflamed faces, stains

on a leather belt

we felt through

cicadas.

Summer's there in a big mess,

i fell in excess

heat, as I creep, puddle's dress

is all over

bent motors, glittery pistons,

and metal insects

with broken teeth.

Sharper greens are still

sharpening

blades and leaves;

aluminum shifting

the oily coast,

all oil and gated

pavement yolk.

Soft is boiled

hands halfway

in sand jacket

coats in the ash tray.

Steel notes sing

campfire beach,

As the hot wind reaches

my lungs.

Smog like a blanket

to hide from sun,

someone tuck in my city.

[forgetful-poems]

FATHER - 7/17/2026

Forget father,

he's dead man

Or will be, at least

Forget him.

He's got the nice jacket

and the cheap advice;

He's got the ice,

He's settled.

I said it wouldn't be different,

but I'm thinking twenty years.

Two weeks will drag him

between these countries,

He'll be where men appear.

Then ten years will dye his

hair snow white, while

Nothing changes, nothing.

He's done,

His will be done in time.

The old vice

smiles at someone.

I don't question the reach of time,

only its selections.

I exist in our

empty bottles,

I am

Second.