[poetrybycamron]

[poetrybycamron]

[poetrybycamron]

All to Amuse

Blinking mindlessly, how natural To let it lie loose by the theory of balloons Gone bye - sky high, maybe higher. Looks like we’re the only ones around, Heading into the city lights; my arms stretch To touch silhouettes out in the water – Indigo is the night and pleasure is a violet Tinted stop-light whose shine is excessive; Go on my lover, let’s touch down Where the grasses meet the sands and dawn.

[poetrybycamron]

The Last Time Our Hands Touched

I saw your face a few years into the future, From a casket. I’ll die a hundred times again Because it’ll feel so warm, each teardrop.

[poetrybycamron]

I've been in a bad way before. The words I wrote were raw. It was a dig, and I got deeper. I imagined a burial by my hand. And the bad ways do make their way, for a future is no promise alone. I get quiet. I am soft, but I've found resilience. It's not loud. It's no gaudy light or grand promise of better. Just slow acknowledgments, the process of processing. I think stillness is better than the dig. I tire of the bottom, but I have never feared it. Less eager to be done, more intrigued by things I grew when I dug deep. It's hard to tend to life, and I do struggle only in my understanding. How did I ever do, without the words?

[serandori]

spite malice hostility ill will enmity venom maliciousness vindictiveness maleficence malevolence whatever else is there?

[poetrybycamron]

There has always been more,

More than the void and the hush.

There is more beyond how anxiety speaks.

There is even more, if we remember how

To imagine.

If you feel cold, come sit by my fire.

If you feel rage, make the fire.

And if you feel beaten, rest as I watch.

My time is yours.

[poetrybycamron]

Denim to concrete, that grey curb bears, in dual-tones, The mark of six-thousand-five-hundred-and-five; home. And it’s that spot–a pedestal for my significant people –Hug me, kiss me, and coax me to tears of smiles and Heartache. I couldn’t tell you, wholey, what it all meant Or what it means now. I only know where my feet have Ingrained themselves, where my eyes see holograms.

[poetrybycamron]

You never touch cigarettes, or The green in the bowl; you take sips From my glasses and carry my body –Hardly attached to my mind– A few blocks downtown.

What are you?

Everyone pre-games, you play Hand-games with me when I can’t Stand; you still danced next to me In the club (mistaken as my man).

What are you?

Swimming laps in the same lane, but We never change like teens in High school locker rooms (we look away).

What are you?

Wrestling in grass, or on second floor Carpet, to cuddle shortly after.

What are you?

Locking eyes, rarely holding my hand.

What am I to you?

[poetrybycamron]

I pity the boy, playing with fire and smoke. There was a monster who thought they were a saint, and I pity that too. Games of heroism under bricks, on dirt, in the clouds, and through time. Perhaps the dance strengthened by legs and my posture, taught me to hum away the feeling of falling. I lost patience for games, hand-holding, and the uncommitted. You can be shy on your own, but I took command of myself, and I don't need to know you.

[poetrybycamron]

[poetrybycamron]

He Doesn’t Pray

Our father,

Far from heaven,

Hollowed by his name,

A kingdom crumbled

Beneath the sun,

Upon my birth,

He is not heaven.

Give us his day,

For he took our bread,

Then forgot us,

And our forgiveness.

As forgiveness grows,

He only harassed us:

So lead us not

Into the temptation

Of returning his evil.

Amen.

[poetrybycamron]

Into the overhang

Twixt the next shade of

Green, a few lovers

Sucker nectar from the

Gleaming fruits.

Then there’s overflow,

Sticky in the creases

Of lips trailing to

Under the chin, unto

Torsos drenched in

Shining sun.

Bathe

Me in the words they

Sing with temperate

Closure of the eye.

I want to comprehend

The majesty of such

Simple depths.

[poetrybycamron]

Parade what you think is deep, I find

It to be a snag in silk, what a shame to

See rain slap your confetti to the floor.

Don’t hide in a closed-blind chamber,

The nighttime redemption calls; I do

Believe in the warped reflection of

This city, its lights, and a clouded sky.

Come back to the throne with balance,

Know you’re good when you’re great,

And bad when you are too undesirable.

[poetrybycamron]

There in a cloud, where the street exists

Four feet at a time and curves at every pause

In natural speech, she was with me.

And,

She was with me in such a way that we both

Knew we were safe, that the crest would

Never stop kissing us with fog.

It was comfort

To stare at the road and feel like I was

Staring at her sun kissed skin, to feel like she

Was also this smooth incline with an

Absolute promise to take my breath away, and

To remind me of how alive I really am.

She’s every road that hugged that mountain,

She’s every breeze cool as water begging to fall,

She’s every tree with vibrancy and composure,

She’s every cliff daring me to sit on the edge,

She’s that final view that fills me up before I go home,

She’s that last righthand turn before she leaves

And gets inside because

She is home.

[poetrybycamron]

The Fallen Morningstar

I can see the lovers calling down from heaven. Could I make claim that my scars are as Beautiful as them? Oh all I wanted to know— Now their voices come echoing through the Clouds, the rain pours in the bounty of the Devine stars and I stare with stupor, was I not The kind, not the right kind of guy?

[poetrybycamron]

Post

Each ripple in open water, like you, Acts below the sun. On the surface you shiver But I assure you, gunfire has ceased.

Over, are the fires, my dearest, it Rests at the horizon. The heavier it gets, the cooler We’ll be - we have stars coming for us.

Our time is extraordinary. We are simple, ready for all the Worth in each other. You’re safe to be at rest with me.

[poetrybycamron]

Her kiss Was the backseat of a grey car With gray skies and the shaky winds, Her kiss Was the teal sweater and steady Feel of two thumbs rubbing two hands, Her kiss Was the heater on high, the Gas running low, the time going gone. Her kiss Was what made me forget him, And it only lasted a second, and it Was her kiss. Her kiss. Her kiss.

[poetrybycamron]

Impassioned Trickery

A misstepped stair of my distant Brood-ment, I have placed my thoughts Too close to a waning moon and Lost track of my one earthly placement. My face is planted in the grass My eyes bloomed beneath incandescent Street lights, I turn on my back Then I released your name unto the sky.