#poemetry

[kawaiicloudpatrol]

As vivid as may be

In dreams of wonder...

                                My darkness wanders...

                                                                 Looking, searching for a clue.

[whatiskant]

The lot, coming from Menlo, is bright and cleans-

ones-clock, you will have been

socked in the face by the sun. One

hesitates to think – it is, perhaps – sexy

to be blinkered.

  Then the memory of heading back to class, in from

the fenced-in yard, this surface, veined and

vined, rough, where you might peek through the

bars at the street, or walk from end to end, into the small trees,

collecting small bits of a story. Up and in, up the red

stairs, single exit lit, a chattering throng

washed out and we blink rapidly, sequencing

orbs who were the sun outside, remember?

  Look on the wall, at the paintings there. Look  

again. Look again. Desaturate and look again.

It is not good, exactly, to turn vibrant things white,

but it’s what we’ve been told we need to do.

[homeqrown]

so we are not dead

so we are not dead

may as well be

--no, that is wrong

there could be years

years of words

and breath

and longing

we must not stop

because of our years

after all

where would they be

without us?

[caketastrophecosplay]

Storybook Oil

Sometimes your thoughts just leak out of your head like oil from a can. Rainbow in the sunlight but dark and sticky and hard to scrape off your skin. Sometimes words just fall from your mouth like an endless river of potential only to be cut cut cut off and stopped short because you just can't keep up Maybe it wasn't worth it anyway to try to speak volumes on feelings and what it is you experience. A book is only as good as the audience that reads it... and the cover that keeps it all together. A page is useless without the context that the thousands of similar but unique printed words of a story can give you. That give you not just the now... but the before and the after. The who and the what. When where and most importantly why. So when you get to know someone next time. Don't just pick up the first page you find and decide that you hate it. Find them all. Search for them. Put them all together and read it from beginning to end and I think you'll find you have a very different story than you first found spilt in a black rainbow puddle on the edge of the road. Flowing from the head of someone you once thought you knew.

[at-the-walls]

Afraid to Waste Time

Will not explain. In fact this explanation may Already be too long. Read between the lines, I have other poems to write.

[randomaswriting]

the shimmering insubstantial soul fragments shatters becoming dust and spreading across all things nothing more than it was, yet nothing less

[demonbones]

from hell's heart, i barf at thee

can i please have a do over today? i call mulligan.

gonna puke myself into geosynchronous orbit and have a nap, thanks.

[thegreengoose-blog1]

Worth It

I thought you meant metaphorically boiling I don’t know what you meant

And what kind of tears are those Point my own camera at my face and I say

That I’d really rather not have but We all took the chance now didn’t we

Just me, And all those people on NHS choices I cannot make the right choices;

There are no right choices to make Nor wrong, let me say, before I shake Off another feeling Of feeling sick

Sick sick sick sick sick sick Turn out the light then turn out the

Where are we going? ? Huh? Punk? For once I really do not know. As blandly as it falls Upon your eyes, I Used to be sure.

A pain here a pain “there, that wasn’t so Bad.” Half an hour of Agony in Time’s great Expanse.