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6d · 59
Story Teller
She sits, knees down,
In practiced posture.

Grounded and calm.

Her curled fingers
Rest on her thighs.

Precise.
Impervious.
Immovable.
Her own.


In her smile,
A wisp on the wings
Slowly unfurls,
In a whirl
Of wise and winding

Mischief.


As honey'd tones
Roll from her maw,
I am humbled.
Hanging.
Enchanted.
Enthralled.

Lucky to be involved.


And in her every word
There is a piece of her
Unseen,
Unheard,
But no less present.

Pure effervescence.

On all terms,
In her way,
Effortless
And pleasant.


Purposeful, she;
Spinner of tales.
Sometimes we are up
Sometimes we are not

Though often too much
I like what I've got

While sometimes I feel
That I'd rather hide

Some other times still
I'm glad I'm alive
I too often forget who I am beneath it all,
But what a relief when I eventually recall!
Apr 25 · 168
Virtual Nature
Gawking at the light
In search of bounty in streams
That hold no water
Apr 25 · 531
Spring Haunt
The ice has melted
All the flowers are in bloom
I shiver alone
Apr 25 · 144
Justice
A lovely idea
Stuck in an unsightly cage
A bird that should fly
Apr 15 · 111
A foil to Fondness
It was more than a treat that we got to meet
And I can't always say this is true

But, of course, my poor aim takes up center-frame
As my thoughtlessness cleaves us anew
A fool's words I let slip from out of my lips
Shame be mine, if I've ever hurt you
Apr 7 · 177
Enamoring Aromatic
It picks me up when I'm stuck feeling down
Conscripts my lips to smile
And relieves my mug of frown

Peps up the steps and moves my heart to pound
If I did not know better
I'd say my true love I've found
Cheers to you, bitter juice of a bean that's been blasted to grounds!
Feb 29 · 124
Dizzied
There
   are worries
           on my mind

                                 While I lie
                                           in my sheets

                                                     Mapping out
                                            my
                            eyelids

And
             dreaming
                                          of
                                                              sleep
Feb 7 · 111
Of Fear
To hide one's self; not an idea so mind-boggling.
Though detailed, the mask belies the heart's sand-boxing,
"Immune to all toxins projected in offense".
It's nonsense, but needed for all that it off-sets.

It's hard to find strength in a world that won't want it
And, yet, harder still to sincerely be honest.
Self-critical composure of mine, as promised,
Lives effortlessly on; though hidden, undaunted.

Please excuse me for choosing words plainly unclear;
I am both a survivor and victim of fear.
Jan 16 · 89
The Seventh Door
Don't let him hear you move
Don't let him hear you breathe
Because the moment he does
Will be the moment he seethes

Thunder without lightning
A hailstorm of teeth
What he thinks he's fighting
So easily beyond me

Don't let him know you live
Because that, he will not stand
The occupant above us
Is a truly troubled man
I really should write the perfect line
With perfect will and aim and time

And I really should do a lot of things
That I keep on hoping tomorrow'll bring

But it never seems to bring it
Just like I never seem to write it

I had meant to think of a happy ending
Or at least of a good one




Oh, bother
Sometimes things, like poems and people, they end up on paths that nobody intended for them.
It is okay to embrace a miss, I think.
Jan 6 · 182
Gargoyle
I arch my shoulders to my cheeks
And press my weight upon my feet
Agress my chest unto my knees
This shape I take; anxiety
Jan 2 · 172
A brief ode to Night
She is sprawled; a vast expanse
Her eyes are islands in the dark
Her breath pulls in and the seas abide
She takes a look through your eyes

"I am alive"
Jan 2 · 108
To be alive
To be alive
Is to be adrift.

To fight the sea
Is to know futility.
Feeling feelings
Thinking thoughts
Acting like a body
Attached to a rock
Nov 2019 · 252
As easy as anything
There's something strange and tempting
All around me.
I feel you, unrelenting,

Gracing my something from somewhere.

Floating like a figment in the air
And you're so high up, we can't see you there,
But I know that you're somewhere.

My eyes are pinching close
Trying to spy your ghost;
Prove to myself that you're out there.

Like a wind dancing light on my skin,
I feel you at it again,
And at their end is my every hair.


If only you'd hold me closer.
I'd like to know that you really care.

My sweet, strange and unreal rover,
I'm getting older; wearing out all of my over-wear.


There's something strange and tempting
Tugging at me.
Almost begging to be,

To be my something from somewhere.

I'm longing, looking and I'm delighted to seek,
Though I'm still straining to see;
Oh, which form would you ask of me?

You could make yourself up most anywhere.

Your gaze is set and pressing through my being.
Because you're all that I see,
I'm staring into my mirror.

I guess I'm lucky it's to me that you speak,
From your elusive unseen,
Caught in your soft-spun somewhere.
There is something calling to each of us, from some unseen otherworld. My something, or at least the mask I attribute to it, whispers a song of delight, whimsy, and oddly mirrored natures. There are as many modes with which to love as there are reasons for the feeling.
May 2016 · 624
BYOBS
As witches chant and cigarettes burn
I wait, patient, for my turn
I do not want what I have got,
But I sure do have a lot
Witches chant and have their fun
As I bake below the pressing sun

Pebbles and dirt,
Worms and sprouts
I open my mouth
And nothing comes out

While witches pant I've come to learn
That I will die before my turn
Nothing's promised except for stones,
Twisted sticks, and dusted bones
Now witches rest, while I ignite
The wasted pages of my life

Cinders and earth,
Ashes and teeth
It sometimes is better
To simply not speak

Witches gather their things to leave
And now I'm sure I'll become these leaves
What gets said between oak and fern?
If woods could talk would I ever learn?
The witches have gone, tho I have not
What's left of me now, just flesh to rot

So hard to stand
So soft, this seat
I can feel the forest upon me

Eat!

— The End —