#parispoem

[poetrybymtj]

[nudeartpluspoetry]

Thanks for a Good Night in Paris

That one night in Paris, we searched for a Mexican restaurant and found it. Waitresses wore tight bluejeans and cowboy boots. Nashville music thumped and twanged. It was a sincerely inauthentic place. That made us happy. It brought to mind California, where only geology is originally from there. We ate les tacos and drank Dutch beer. Looked across a dark courtyard and spied, two floors up in a kind of warehouse, ballet dancers, dozens of them. They faced the instructor, stretched and jumped to music we could not hear. A fire-eater appeared in the courtyard. He licked a long match and guzzled fuel. Tipped his head back, roared flame into night. We saw his small audience gasp. Full, we sipped our beers. Saw that the dancers were drenched in sweat. When the man with the oboe walked in, we knew we weren't supposed to be surprised. hans ostrom 1981/2017

[amaralaraspells]

Human I am not

How ashamed I am to be a human looking at my hands capable of darkness and I wasn't sure if it was my ability to resemble theirs with mine that made me wanna cut them right off, or neurotically rip off my own skin make it unrecognizable, non-human. How ashamed I am to see the blood of many mixed and how it became a knife that stabbed my heart. Blood shouldn't be so much for the floor to absorb and power shouldn't be so much to claim the blood. The lights turn off, Saturday is here, but for what? Faithless I am. Human I am not.

[mynostalgyaparis]

We checked into that hotel with the tiny balcony and the red bed with the red curtains. We were sprouts in a garden that year. We never imagined that it couldn’t last, that time would grow vines which would crawl up us like it crawls up everyone and hold us in factories and houses and familiar streets. Every cell in my body is different now and you are gone, as gone as Paris of that year.