Exiled to dusk, Fractions of the sun Begin to lift away, In concealment We shudder, Casting our reels Into a pond of uncertainty, Clock hands bend With advancing shadow, And speak of time Only in past tense, I so want everything I ever felt for you Preserved for posterity, Even should forever Be far less than We imagined.
It’s almost a contradiction To love someone When they are angry When they are jealous When they are vicious But it’s easy for many To love someone When they are joyful When they are humble When they are empathetic It’s as if we have been misled To provide conditional positive regard Unconditional love It is hard to encounter A blessing to receive And a burden to maintain
Can it be That when you die Your atoms go into eternity, Come back collectively, Attracted by A law of magnetism and attraction - A cycle and a miracle; After all, They’ve always been A You since time began.
Can It Be? 2.24.2021Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Reality; Birth, Death & In Between III; Arlene Nover Corwin
Mirror bound, this shadow and I For once my desire sees eye to eye Distracting sharp edges and rough play Searching for that biting darkness I used to crave On wicked things my heart takes a tumble Head over heels for salt worn stubble I just can't shake this ache for fire, for flame When I taste that razor edge and only get blame Deep down inside I still feel your grit Wave after wave, pounding away at it What I would not give for your finger tips Drinking full, drinking deep from regretful lips Plunder. Pillage. Take it all. If only to leave me panting and raw
there’s the kind of sadness we ignore and try to get rid of it by finding new things to do or we find someone to talk to by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation about feeling sad about having any feelings at all and then there’s that kind of sadness that takes over and it consumes any activity we do we know it’s there and there’s no possible way to avoid it so we feed it exactly what it wants it craves the sad music it craves the isolation it craves the anxiousness and the sadness comes storming in it has no manners here we are calling sadness, an “it” when all it is is a feeling that most people call home
If you ever see me run over. kicked. bleeding. blurring. on the ground. incoherently. something wrong with me. or that I’m not conscious,
don’t look for my breath or heartbeat, don’t reach for a phone to call an ambulance that will drive me to the hospice to which the world throws you in when your window sill climbing, barefoot walking in the dirt rolling like child with freeing thoughts drooling or law-culture breaking gets too much of a crime for them. don’t ask me if I see still fine your two or four fingers yet look for the tears in my eyes.
For if I don’t have them anymore and won’t get myself then or ever again to truly cry, it is only then that you’ll know I stopped fighting, I died, I ultimately ***** myself and I forgot there is more Beyond.
and without that my existence isn’t worth looking for the pulse anymore.
I will not be worth of seeing stars as a boy without sanity or glasses anymore.
I swear on you upon all that heed.
Thought of when once I felt That the Village’s walls want always To take over us And make us forget There is actually worth or Life. Thought of when imagined That I would cease to wonder Cry, bless or use my Legend To become. When I thought how others are unwelcome Of my antics, Liberty and the New I carry Every time you wake into Walking this Village’s annihilation And fearing That one day you’ll come To agree to it all. This is what others don’t know as Death
Whether a comma, or colon: Punctuation slows my rolling I need no period. When I end no Capitalization when I begin Rulelessly I flow my art Not a single! Exclamation mark Are you not the one Who'll know? Where a question mark No longer goes
Warp the structure Bend the lines Put in repeat Let emotion unwind Make yourself Your poetry's the best Be your own ruler Pass your own test
Take your own road Where ever it leads Lover or hater It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim . P.s Strange, the Hellopoetry computer demanded I put two stars on this poem to repost it to the front page... But it was worth it, it’s been on here for over a year now, I appreciate it Elliot.
Hay No matter who you are You have my deepest respect!
Vanity All is vanity The meanings of passion The aesthetic expression The lines we draw and stay within Even love is beyond intent Vanity transcends Flowing from our pens And so we breathe again
I’ll just deal with the consequence later right now I’ll allow my consciousness to waver serving up a flavor, that tentatively turns into a vapor is a remedy I savor along with the marrying of a melody that influences my behavior as the intensity of the intended entropy gets greater
Id cry too, Cry for me, Cry for you, Cry every time you see the color blue. Cry alone in bed, Cry each night after the prayers that are said. Fill a bucket full of tears, Those aren’t yours anymore, Give them here.