the king of no tomorrow
The clamor of strange weather wore down the day, the words spilled as free as contempt. The bright blue crown did little more than blind, while the gusts of thick dust choked and spun. Some sign post missed, some marker spared the terror of acknowledgement, while eyes strayed from the road, running wild over every scale and skin. Somewhere a...
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The clamor of strange weather wore down the day, the words spilled as free as contempt. The bright blue crown did little more than blind, while the gusts of thick dust choked and spun. Some sign post missed, some marker spared the terror of acknowledgement, while eyes strayed from the road, running wild over every scale and skin. Somewhere a...
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unilateral
I serve no purpose but to call down these curses. I follow no path save the drive towards oblivion, cruelty the only kindnesses allowed. The days bend and bend, falling off the plot of continuity, scaling the cliffs that memory leaves behind. Flowers dying in the scenery, dust and death clotting every single breath. No side left that will stay mine, no battle that...
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I serve no purpose but to call down these curses. I follow no path save the drive towards oblivion, cruelty the only kindnesses allowed. The days bend and bend, falling off the plot of continuity, scaling the cliffs that memory leaves behind. Flowers dying in the scenery, dust and death clotting every single breath. No side left that will stay mine, no battle that...
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sunset song
The dust danced as the light dappled on and off, the strobe of sun and leaf, the glamour of wind and shine. The sun lingered, adrift in a polished blue sky. The sun lingered, squandering its grace as it might. The ache was that absence of romance, that rend along the mend of mind and hunger. The ache that was the settling of...
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The dust danced as the light dappled on and off, the strobe of sun and leaf, the glamour of wind and shine. The sun lingered, adrift in a polished blue sky. The sun lingered, squandering its grace as it might. The ache was that absence of romance, that rend along the mend of mind and hunger. The ache that was the settling of...
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martyr
Another day and the meaning is elusive. All the words lined up, birds on a wire, stones in a row. Dust all that is left of the garden, some warnings about the machinations of snakes, fig leaves and another angry thunderer. The precepts of poems and history, laid down between the readings. The vastness travelled always somehow lost in transit. These old bones, this...
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Another day and the meaning is elusive. All the words lined up, birds on a wire, stones in a row. Dust all that is left of the garden, some warnings about the machinations of snakes, fig leaves and another angry thunderer. The precepts of poems and history, laid down between the readings. The vastness travelled always somehow lost in transit. These old bones, this...
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this sense of kisses lingering
Like ice pressed slow against tongue and lip, so close to something like a kiss. Like the broad abandon of a leaf risen in the wind, the reach of feather as the wing brushes back the sky. Her words are caught upon her clever lips, water swallowed just to dream of thirst. The shadows stretch and flutter, the nearing differences,...
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Like ice pressed slow against tongue and lip, so close to something like a kiss. Like the broad abandon of a leaf risen in the wind, the reach of feather as the wing brushes back the sky. Her words are caught upon her clever lips, water swallowed just to dream of thirst. The shadows stretch and flutter, the nearing differences,...
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kay:
Very well done Sir.
xxxholic:
What are you trying to do to me? I am a married woman!!!! 
I can actually see this poem in my head. Lovely.
I can actually see this poem in my head. Lovely.the same
Oh, this existence. So many mirrors, so much paperwork. The years of straining through the fog. The faraway song of a sheltering dove. We sleep and wake and sleep again, letting each day carry us to bed. Every hour pressed and folded. Every moment clucked at, then tucked away. Always the mind over matter, as if we ever knew anything else. Always the...
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Oh, this existence. So many mirrors, so much paperwork. The years of straining through the fog. The faraway song of a sheltering dove. We sleep and wake and sleep again, letting each day carry us to bed. Every hour pressed and folded. Every moment clucked at, then tucked away. Always the mind over matter, as if we ever knew anything else. Always the...
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haunt
Ring the bell and set the markers. Sing so sadly in the twilight. All these songs of darkened ashes. All these songs of dwindling heat. Your voice so soft, and yet it carries. The hour so late and the day so old.
I pry the bones out of their puzzles. I stretch the breath out of every ache. Eyes like oceans now like embers....
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Ring the bell and set the markers. Sing so sadly in the twilight. All these songs of darkened ashes. All these songs of dwindling heat. Your voice so soft, and yet it carries. The hour so late and the day so old.
I pry the bones out of their puzzles. I stretch the breath out of every ache. Eyes like oceans now like embers....
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what to watch for when the sun goes out
It will not do to feel forsaken. It will not do to call the moon a thief. The daylight was lost in the first twirl, the dance of days, the music of the spheres. The dice tossed so long ago that our species wasn't extant, let alone in the game. The wager of light and shadow,...
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It will not do to feel forsaken. It will not do to call the moon a thief. The daylight was lost in the first twirl, the dance of days, the music of the spheres. The dice tossed so long ago that our species wasn't extant, let alone in the game. The wager of light and shadow,...
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old moon
The wounds all go untreated. No-one can find the soul. Instead the empty is clotted with whispers. Instead the shadows are fed shed skin and green leaf. The yard is full of tracks and traces, strange landings and odd partners. The world goes on, lamenting that dwindling light, secretly delighted to devour that last gasp of tomorrow. The world goes on, glutted on...
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The wounds all go untreated. No-one can find the soul. Instead the empty is clotted with whispers. Instead the shadows are fed shed skin and green leaf. The yard is full of tracks and traces, strange landings and odd partners. The world goes on, lamenting that dwindling light, secretly delighted to devour that last gasp of tomorrow. The world goes on, glutted on...
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automatic
The day breaks bad, the heart turns lonesome, sunlight tossed around and the coffee still hot and strong. Every muscle aches in its particulars, the burden so heavy, the back so stiff and indifferent. For a moment there I escaped my labor. For a time there I could elude my crimes. But the world it works its mysteries right out in the open. The...
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The day breaks bad, the heart turns lonesome, sunlight tossed around and the coffee still hot and strong. Every muscle aches in its particulars, the burden so heavy, the back so stiff and indifferent. For a moment there I escaped my labor. For a time there I could elude my crimes. But the world it works its mysteries right out in the open. The...
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cane:
Thank you so much for your birthday wishes!! How are you doing today..?
xx
xx
occult
At long last I am hidden from mystery, obscure to the arcane and the occult. No more bones and notions. No more rallies and retreats. A slew of words spilling out the window. A brace of ghosts rattling their chains. Line by line gathering moss as the picture lasts and lasts. I stumble and vie in plain sight, there on the face of things....
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At long last I am hidden from mystery, obscure to the arcane and the occult. No more bones and notions. No more rallies and retreats. A slew of words spilling out the window. A brace of ghosts rattling their chains. Line by line gathering moss as the picture lasts and lasts. I stumble and vie in plain sight, there on the face of things....
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orientation
The day burns low, and there isn't a spell in sight. The cat is too busy, and I never trust the owl. The stage is always set though the scene is always changing. The gossamer of dusk and insect wings, the breath of cold metal and green grass. Every song lets loose at once, and the air is never settled. The sharp eyes of...
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The day burns low, and there isn't a spell in sight. The cat is too busy, and I never trust the owl. The stage is always set though the scene is always changing. The gossamer of dusk and insect wings, the breath of cold metal and green grass. Every song lets loose at once, and the air is never settled. The sharp eyes of...
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xxxholic:
Happy birthday!!! Do you keep track of your poetry. In other words do you store them all somewhere. Do you have anything published?? Or do you have any plans to do so?