Quillet's Quay

[quilletsquay]

When roses are red Yet starve without nourishment instead, yellow blooms

[quilletsquay]

Night after night they’re toilin sweatin out for their due, bleeding pennies, biting tongues they wipe after they speak: bleating propa on cue. They propagate their positions, cuz rising up means seein how low you’ve climbed. Making poor decisions, cuz the rich got money: they can pay no mind. Switching every codeword Baiting ever forward Making moves toward the start for their peers

[quilletsquay]

It calls to me each morning a cacophony as I wipe the sleep from my eyes blurred upon the edges and unclean as I smear my glasses trying to find them and wonder why everything is so unclear Abrasive as it is grinding against me to file away the happenings of night inviting the light to stay in it just for a little while and allow me to breath in the earth And I cup it in my hands like a beating heart keeping time for me while I recoil against it turning tides of slumber back upon themselves to fold in the swirls and ebbs within this beautiful gift that I have given myself this morning and every morning; control me substance, just for a while

[quilletsquay]

What’s the difference between another true love and self-destruction

[quilletsquay]

Following your passions can be terrifying, it means to rip yourself out

to take apart and thrust yourself into the limelight even if it isn’t really your color

to dance when your bones are shaking or kiss your blood onto a page

to realize the perfect beauty of the world imperfectly time after time

and then to hate it to look at yourself and not have anything you want to give sitting still instead of moving casting glances at your past love across the room like a stray dog outside with the crowds gathering round to watch it bathing it in their frosty stares while you kick it and spit on it

then you pick yourself up in your arms bruised battered beaten by beratement

you sink your teeth into it an inky swill filming your tongue staining your linens and clinging to your throat warming your hollow and broken baptized in you by you never to be who you weren’t again

[quilletsquay]

Revolution is a base notion highlighting rebirth as some paltry solution; evolution being cosmic motion the gyrations shaking off dusty shackles of aeons past. Perhaps this incarnation can overwrite the old’s effete institution, the next chapter’s devastation echoing the cantor’s clamor destructive drones for freedom. A new form taken from foregone forgotten empires, lost to time and loved ones alike. Majesty and pageantry pale company make when evoked upon stepped tombstones that compound compost composed from accrued freedom fighters who dared to rise against the derision of sedition coming from those that derived a new paltry institution from the ashes of ruins of a past generation; effete solution

[quilletsquay]

Lemons

Taking lemons that come to make lemonade may be simply, idling thoughts to those that need comforting

I planed the seeds prior to grow an fruit tree mightily, the roots digging into me comfortably

Now I’m dying of thirst sitting in the crossroads under a barren apple tree wishing for a drink

[quilletsquay]

Working

Use me to make me not as I am told I am but as I am told to be Idle hands erode progress’ march eternally forebode Callused digits and coarse skin buying pain relief and potions to delay our dreaming’s begin

[quilletsquay]

Having

A piece of paper holds every word that could be that ever had been within being just as it is made A stroke of a pen gives it all if its meaning that the author means not to be mean just as it is made No corrections can provide that which was taken that blank state now shaken that wholeness forsaken to be just as it is made

[quilletsquay]

Wanting

To want is a terrible thing you, twice terrible, truly So enamored by your being simply terrifying A mural on the edges to see a light from you cast perhaps a mosaic’s wreckage can luminescence pass Torn asunder/in twain broken with me My hopes in vain left simply guilty