Poet-Whisperer

[poet-whisperer]

With the moon at eye level

Eyes heavy and mood too loud

An unwelcome stranger

The night narrows

Eyes beging to peek

Swiftly she's out of sight

But the road is long

And so is the night

Yet rise will she once again

Soon before she begins to fall

A train ride ~ poet-whisperer

[poet-whisperer]

what is love and how am i to differentiate it from anything else? infatuation, admiration, adoration? it's all a blur, almost melding together and confuses the blind fuck out of me.

@poet-whisperer

[poet-whisperer]

Patience

I am blind - I simply cannot wait

My mind, it stumble

Befuddles in its wake

Confused

Not so much - I know what I am to do

Yet the fear, the estrangement

I cannot help I elude

Yet I've done what I must

In what is barren - an opportunity

The best I could muster

In all my uncertainty

I tried rhyming again (lol I'm bad at this)- @poet-whisperer

[poet-whisperer]

The very essence of being alive is confusing

And the most confusing of it all is vision

To be able to see

You never really see yourself

First person view

That's what we call it

But is that even real?

How do I know what is and what isn't when I can't even bloody tell if I am?

Where is this going?

I do not know.

I shall fall asleep tonight and once again forget all that I do.

Until one day again I will question everything again

And there's no better way to put it

Than that I am simply confused.

The essence of life? - @poet-whisperer

[poet-whisperer]

My noble riddle forever be mine

You are a riddle unexplained

a mirror to a universe untold

breathing life into a time

semblance to a soul

with a mind so powerful

and a truth unfathomable

with intelligence unspoken

and a creation unexplained

where religion in its brightest form

could simply be denied

with a deepening

buried in dust

that I could lie in

as a cold corpse

with stench and rot

astrew with flowers and tear drops

buried in dust

to a dream of immortality

from which you

wherein can never leave

a forevermore contradiction

to the superficial

and an evocation to the thought

with no human explanation

where a whole universe diminished

could forever be confused

with an expression so plenty

that it could bring meaning

to an understanding

so crafty

so true

so good

that the deeds of the spiritual

that the deeds behind the veil of life itself

hidden could forever unfold

to forget a forgotten tomorrow

that may never have existed

within the reaches of my soul

but truly to the extent

of my conciousness

where nothing truly ever ends

and new life as vision

draws verified and true

[poet-whisperer]

“I stayed up all night writing a song for you only to realize the next morning that I can’t sing.”

— poet-whisperer.

[poet-whisperer]

This started with a sad Twitter account

That turned into something fun

Now I don't know what to do with this

So I just read some of the old stuff I write

To find out who I was

[poet-whisperer]

“Autumn leaves Cloud over as a breeze Of herbal flowers Waving, dancing Left and right Uniquely In what almost Seemed like A forest of pure gold.”

—

[poet-whisperer]

“A cycle of life That revolves and resolves itself By the continuous, repetitive and never-ending Recycle of history And only the evolution of a generation. How deluded are we to think that we are something special?”

— The cycle of life.

[actionables]

when the premiere of your movie is on the same night as your pajama party so you have to compromise

[bettys-orchard]

He isn’t even wearing shoes omg

[poet-whisperer]

Where can I get those pajamas?

[poet-whisperer]

“She has this thing about her A look in her eyes different then most. A view, a perspective Similar, yet unlike mine. And I was afraid. I was afraid to love. And not just love, but love her. She carried a sound of silence Deep inside that nobody else has, A calming embrace so strange and beautiful That it terrified me. I was afraid to choose her, I was afraid to lose her. Yet I never went after her. What hopes did I ever have? What hopes do I still do?”

—

It’s been a while since love #1

[poet-whisperer]

“-What the…. - Twice tomorrow the chanty banter Between nervous tourists and compounding temptation Unable to either justify nor awaken The common laughter of the creatures we are. Yet with closed eyes and sense of escapism We simply melt away with the music that played from a mundane existence That we all till now ignored As we wonder what is this eternal ethereal dissolute of a life. I wrote about the impossible The discovery of its existence The howling, the agony, the grieving, the feeling I wrote about the impossible The experiences of its discovery. Yet right now at this very moment I wonder. As I am lost in a frequency other then my own. What the fuck am I writing about right now?”

— @poet-whisperer

[poet-whisperer]

“I like doing nothing.”

—

[poet-whisperer]

No one cares That's not the problem That's a fact No one cares No one gives a shit Get up and get out Be who you wanna be Do what you wanna do No one cares Neither should you

No one cares @poet-whisperer

[poet-whisperer]

Twitterpated

[poet-whisperer]

Of course, because in the end how else are you influenced by their writing if not by their thoughts

@poet-whisperer

[poet-whisperer]

A memory is fragile The more we talk about it The lesser it becomes what it is and more something we want it to be That is why we have pictures They remind us of the memory As is A moment Pure and innocent uncorrupted by our thoughts.

@poet-whisperer