BeatnextWhisper

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2 Political Haiku (Haiku 100, and 101)(Putin your foot down) / Son of BITCH Putin, / Don't fondle Ukraine will ya,
16
Mar 15, 2014
An open letter to Jay Gatsby (The Great Gatsby)It still smells like human iron in your pool. / There's a crack in the concrete where the bullet stopped. / It still smells like human iron by the side of your pool, there's a stain.
38
Mar 13, 2014
A poem about COFFEEWhite foam and none. / The ocean air is thick and sweet as the sea kneads it's waves that corrode the entirety of my rib cage. / It botches stale breaths to chant hallelujah, screaming mercy, yelling bliss.
31
Mar 2, 2014
Black TrumpetsThe black trumpets play jazz in between the death of a girl in Chicago, and the death of a boy in Paris. / The lights of the cities they called home were the only creatures that saw them pass. / The boy died of forgetfulness to breath in the cold, and the girl died of a drunken car.
34
Mar 3, 2014
Friday, March seventh, 2014.I saw a naked woman's silhouette laying in the mountains this morning. / Her skin was made of trees, and her hair made of dry creek beds. / She's was asking for a name, I think it was her's she sought.
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Mar 7, 2014
Haiku esq.When words have been killed, / You will find yourself in love, / But without words; gone.
5
Apr 22, 2014
It's midnight, Eastcoast...and it feels like it's been so long since yesterday, but I'm okay. / It's normal I guess to feel this way. / I just miss things, even when they're right there.
21
Mar 4, 2014
Miss them. (Haiku)Friends don't leave easy, / It takes time for them to go, / They leave like bombs though.
5
Mar 24, 2014
The books who grow legs.Friends leave like the leaves in Autumn; / slowly, inevitably, and softly flowing down to decay amongst the ground and the wind. / But there's always those few stubborn dead ones that somehow stick to the twigs.
11
Apr 23, 2014
The city light, the orange light.I can hear it tapping on the bedroom door of my conscience, / a silent wind that's playing Louis Armstrong on a broken record player. / There's an orange rain spilling from a street lamp into my bedroom through a un-curtained window.
28
Apr 16, 2014
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