Nothing gets to know itself

My poetry and re-blogs of other's poetry I wish I was talented enough to write

[infinite-cacophony]

Absence

Writing used to come with ease

Now it never does

The ink that flowed from love

Now looks more like blood

Pain and sorrow embrace me

But my muse they'll never be

And words are so fleeting

Now that I'm always sleeping

But never ever dreaming.

[uschi-the-listener]

flag

I pledged allegiance

for years

.

when I saw a flag

I felt taller

proud of my country

.

not nowadays

.

I see someone

with a flag

it looks

more like

a swastika

.

a swarm of

gnat-thoughts

crowd in

.

I know that person

is probably armed

and will kill me

on a whim

.

because I didn't salute

or I'm wearing a mask

or I'm an old, fat boomer

or I prevent him

from doing something

or going somewhere

or just for fun

.

or he knows a judge

or gets the right one

.

this flag

it kills people now

it's not the one

I made my solemn

promise

to protect

.

an impostor

that wallows in filth

.

a fist in my belly

clenches hard

when a truck

races by

flying a big

handsome flag

.

handsome is

as handsome does

.

I take back

my vow

.

pledge allegiance

instead

to humanity

.

[infinite-cacophony]

My morning so far (true story)

What a way to start a day!

Spilled ink is in the way.

A word or two.

A phrase written in blue.

No red or is it green?

Time to wipe the screen.

Oh for another day!

[infinite-cacophony]

A seasonal stroll

Oranges, reds, and yellows so bright.

The leaves in technicolor,

welcome the night.

 //

Along the trail so darkly lit, the sun slumbers in a darken sky.

The trees are surely snoring,

as they start their yearly slumber.

//

As I wonder lost in awe (with the occasional shiver).

I remember that winter is short,

and spring will come with thunder.

[infinite-cacophony]

One day I will write a poem divine

A grape grows on a vine

But it is not wine

Until ambrosia flows from that vine

The Edit Button will do just fine.

[infinite-cacophony]

HOPE

Darkness and light

Colliding in the sky

Waiting for that moment

When I am allowed to fly

 Here on Earth

The wind is harsh

The ground is full of bones

Saints and sinners all end in the ground

 But in the window

A light is on

Casting its light on those who are gone

And in the sky, that is where I’ll be found.

[infinite-cacophony]

The choir sings,

On feathered wings.

They sing of spring,

They sing of birth,

And of sexual intercourse.

The rain drops;

An orchestra of sounds.

A timpani of woods and shingles.

A cymbal echoing through the downspout.

Making flowers spring from the ground.

And here I sit dreaming in the sound,

At peace with myself.

Dreaming of your sex,

In the cloisture of the sound.

[infinite-cacophony]

Everything is a fiction

Nothing is real

Floating on a cloud

Of facts and figures

Only to find the ground.

But the ground is not there

And we float through the air

On effervescent chairs

And when it's all said and done

I was not here.

[infinite-cacophony]

Five minutes to write,

Five minutes to sing,

When the moment was right,

My phone started to ring.

[foxglovedoor]

I forgive you

not because

you treated me

in a way I deserved

for anger and harsh words

have no place inside love

I forgive you

instead because

letting go

is a condition

for inner peace

a liberation

from this heaviness

that steals my words

arrests my heart

in manacles

of self righteousness

Forgiveness is less

about our claims

to being right

and more about

finding a path

that sets us both free

to return to living

and so, loving,

more fully

Foxglovedoor

[infinite-cacophony]

Love

Love does not happen overnight.

But shouldn't take an entire life.

Gay, streight, black, and white.

We are different and that's alright.

Let the light shine brightly in our life.

And love will win over the night.

[mybeautifulbleedingpieces]

Maybe I'm destined

to write poetry for free

And the feelings that linger

after I finish a piece,

will only collide with

the silent sobs

I've yet to release

trapped in the ruins

of you and me

-katie, 20:18

[thegreatinthesmall-deactivated2]

Stephan Würth

[infinite-cacophony]

I don't usually post other's photos but this is really great in my opinion.

[infinite-cacophony]

Derivative II

Oh that my head was not balding

And the stories I told less insulting

/

I know what I know

But its too much to be told

/

From the ground sprouts a tall tree

But soon it will be back in the ground

/

The birds and the bees dance in the trees

But the peach still sits upon a tree

/

And my head is still balding

And the mermaids are still calling

/

But never for me, or for that tree,  

Rotting deep in the ground.

[vagabondprophet-deactivated2025]

Bleed

This whisky is 45% alcohol by volume

Most is simply 40,

It’s the extra 5 that really sneaks up on you,

For what can strong drink do

But make one drunk

And what can this heart do

But bleed and bleed for you.

- Vagabond Prophet

@inky-child

@ragewrites prompted me today with ‘bleeding heart’ for NaPoWriMo. If you are upset that I am late for this, PM me, I will send you details regarding my current location, and proceed to physically fight you.

[infinite-cacophony]

Cupcake

Cupcakes for dinner

Cupcakes for lunch

A cupcake for breakfast

Goes down with barely a crunch

I’m filling a depression

With a cupcake or two

But I am still empty

Perhaps another cupcake will do.

[infinite-cacophony]

Eye Light

I fill my life

With pictures

Some of animals

Some of lovely thighs

\

Yet what thrills

Me the most

Is the sunlight

In your eyes

\

Sparkling waterfalls

Splashing in the night

Your beauty shines

In darkness and in the light

\

Even with this beauty

In the terror of my mind

I tear up this poem

And throw it at your eyes

\

The waterfall flows faster

Over the falls so high

For I’m filled with anger

And apparently have no eyes.