ZWS - Hello Poetry

Saturday - [x] Workout - [x] CVS - [x] Tokyo Mart - [x] Milk - [x] Stockings - [x] Cork town beard butter - [x] Nicole gift - [x] Krazy Jane’s - [ ] I want you to love me with the force of one thousand winds

0

Dec 17, 2023

Dec 17, 2023 at 4:23 PM UTC

To Do List

Saturday - [x] Workout - [x] CVS - [x] Tokyo Mart - [x] Milk - [x] Stockings - [x] Cork town beard butter - [x] Nicole gift - [x] Krazy Jane’s - [ ] I want you to love me with the force of one thousand winds

10

Coloring rocks, watching kickball, and lying in the grass I saw your glance, I looked away as you made about Swaddled infatuation, feelings thought dead years ago Unknown anxieties implore me, should I talk to her? I hope that I get paired with you Courage strikes me, your smile, your laugh, I’m young again The others think I’m in over my head, and maybe I do too Where did this feeling come from, from so long ago Maybe I’m in love — I don’t know But I’d be happy forever here, as long as I’m with you I hope I get paired with you

0

Oct 12, 2023

Oct 12, 2023 at 9:11 AM UTC

Learn to Love Again

Coloring rocks, watching kickball, and lying in the grass I saw your glance, I looked away as you made about Swaddled infatuation, feelings thought dead years ago Unknown anxieties implore me, should I talk to her? I hope that I get paired with you Courage strikes me, your smile, your laugh, I’m young again The others think I’m in over my head, and maybe I do too Where did this feeling come from, from so long ago Maybe I’m in love — I don’t know But I’d be happy forever here, as long as I’m with you I hope I get paired with you

11

Narratives hand strewn with loose fabric Polygonal boundaries arbitrarily woven Years-long contained tremors guide their silver lining It’s the principle on the precipice A class-act showboat of bloatware fanatics Mania politics and placeholder values Fallacy on fallacy, Andromeda poser Double negative, positively improper What is a pawn but not a spitting image of a god Where they come from they will surely go Every turn the tables turn, but the game does stay the same What is a checkered board but a mosaic hiding in plain sight

0

Oct 11, 2023

Oct 11, 2023 at 11:07 PM UTC

Mosaic

Narratives hand strewn with loose fabric Polygonal boundaries arbitrarily woven Years-long contained tremors guide their silver lining It’s the principle on the precipice A class-act showboat of bloatware fanatics Mania politics and placeholder values Fallacy on fallacy, Andromeda poser Double negative, positively improper What is a pawn but not a spitting image of a god Where they come from they will surely go Every turn the tables turn, but the game does stay the same What is a checkered board but a mosaic hiding in plain sight

12

Cameras are flattering until they flash The depiction of Kings and queens until the shutter castles Evangelical in nature what our pictures capture Where the greens of your garden meet my pasture I try to find my way, but only find myself as a knight with no sense of direction Fighting for home, or for throne, the question begs itself Where the answer is another question Intrepid in nature, Why do I play the game without something to wager And slaves and peasants and king’s all the same in the end Whilst the keep remains high and grand at the expense of what the treasury lends Where pigeons can not land and letters bury the foundations And there the queen remains, frivolous with men fascinated by their own incantations In her jewelry and robes, her stallions, her fields, in a glow forged by ignorance and fascination And here I am all the same, chasing after the same libations

0

Jul 26, 2019

Jul 26, 2019 at 1:11 AM UTC

Chess

Cameras are flattering until they flash The depiction of Kings and queens until the shutter castles Evangelical in nature what our pictures capture Where the greens of your garden meet my pasture I try to find my way, but only find myself as a knight with no sense of direction Fighting for home, or for throne, the question begs itself Where the answer is another question Intrepid in nature, Why do I play the game without something to wager And slaves and peasants and king’s all the same in the end Whilst the keep remains high and grand at the expense of what the treasury lends Where pigeons can not land and letters bury the foundations And there the queen remains, frivolous with men fascinated by their own incantations In her jewelry and robes, her stallions, her fields, in a glow forged by ignorance and fascination And here I am all the same, chasing after the same libations

15

If you asked me to give you the picture I couldn’t even paint her This girl’s got me on retainer Her purse is full of my pastels and pens, and I don’t quite consider myself an entertainer And every stroke of my tongue comes out as a castrated slur Yet on my way to hers I trample through a trail covered in burs They are stuck on me, but I am undoubtedly stuck on her

0

Jul 26, 2019

Jul 26, 2019 at 12:39 AM UTC

Not an Artist (hers)

If you asked me to give you the picture I couldn’t even paint her This girl’s got me on retainer Her purse is full of my pastels and pens, and I don’t quite consider myself an entertainer And every stroke of my tongue comes out as a castrated slur Yet on my way to hers I trample through a trail covered in burs They are stuck on me, but I am undoubtedly stuck on her

8

You move I move, scandalous, something to prove Pretending to be who is who, who is you, who is me, woah is you And I’m new to new, but I can’t seem to fit into the groove There is black and there is blue, and when the sky turns back in lieu Cash turns into change, and so do you

0

Jul 26, 2019

Jul 26, 2019 at 12:22 AM UTC

Who is you?

You move I move, scandalous, something to prove Pretending to be who is who, who is you, who is me, woah is you And I’m new to new, but I can’t seem to fit into the groove There is black and there is blue, and when the sky turns back in lieu Cash turns into change, and so do you

5

Dead TV channels and corn puffs on floor like skinemax and taxes on the poor Stained coffee tables and sunlight through the glass pane door The aftermath of ****** and scores All of us have some kind of drug in our veins and pores That ***** outdoor patio, with the edgy tattooed girls Where we used to turn over chairs to find pearls The 90% would always put us into a swirl The moonshine would always help us unfurl Saints on high our porches rumble Where secrets held are worse than those under the Vatican’s But we’re as dead as the mannequins And we’re lost to our ambitions that we humble Like kindred souls around a fire we lost ourselves to gravity Our mornings filled with sweet nothings, our nights with serendipity Where we found peace and home in entropy In the lull of a dogtown in the middle of the world

0

Jul 26, 2019

Jul 26, 2019 at 12:01 AM UTC

Ashes on the Patio

Dead TV channels and corn puffs on floor like skinemax and taxes on the poor Stained coffee tables and sunlight through the glass pane door The aftermath of ****** and scores All of us have some kind of drug in our veins and pores That ***** outdoor patio, with the edgy tattooed girls Where we used to turn over chairs to find pearls The 90% would always put us into a swirl The moonshine would always help us unfurl Saints on high our porches rumble Where secrets held are worse than those under the Vatican’s But we’re as dead as the mannequins And we’re lost to our ambitions that we humble Like kindred souls around a fire we lost ourselves to gravity Our mornings filled with sweet nothings, our nights with serendipity Where we found peace and home in entropy In the lull of a dogtown in the middle of the world

16

Let me tell you a story that’s told, a place that’s dark and filled with brimstone A place that can feel hot or cold, a place where brightness can unfold Where men abroad are worn thin, some seem to think about little else, but skin And as they walk their walk and talk their talk what they truly want passes like a gust of wind The body and mind are acutely fixed, they lose their footing, they’re crossed and tricked Head strong yet clumsy, tempered like an iron bar, these men will tell you what they think from afar No real who’s, what’s, where’s or know how, their tongue trebles, it declares, without care or clarity, it cracks like a snare Preaching strong and wide and broad like the big churches of St. Sinclair singing songs throughout outdated speakers, oh god The opinions of shepherds are often the rumors of sheep, trapped in gossip like the bonds of viral news excused for tweets They wear it on their arms and nationalize their pride all while being humble, they claim, but knows not who it harms They make a point to point fingers for points overwhelmed with the poignant denial they pass off as practical Cracking irony with their minds white washed from the wash and their thumbs I mistake for calloused ****** This human condition we oft’ know well, is dying right under our nose Medicine won’t help those who are only concerned with what happens above or below

0

Jul 16, 2019

Jul 16, 2019 at 1:01 PM UTC

Hehd

Let me tell you a story that’s told, a place that’s dark and filled with brimstone A place that can feel hot or cold, a place where brightness can unfold Where men abroad are worn thin, some seem to think about little else, but skin And as they walk their walk and talk their talk what they truly want passes like a gust of wind The body and mind are acutely fixed, they lose their footing, they’re crossed and tricked Head strong yet clumsy, tempered like an iron bar, these men will tell you what they think from afar No real who’s, what’s, where’s or know how, their tongue trebles, it declares, without care or clarity, it cracks like a snare Preaching strong and wide and broad like the big churches of St. Sinclair singing songs throughout outdated speakers, oh god The opinions of shepherds are often the rumors of sheep, trapped in gossip like the bonds of viral news excused for tweets They wear it on their arms and nationalize their pride all while being humble, they claim, but knows not who it harms They make a point to point fingers for points overwhelmed with the poignant denial they pass off as practical Cracking irony with their minds white washed from the wash and their thumbs I mistake for calloused ****** This human condition we oft’ know well, is dying right under our nose Medicine won’t help those who are only concerned with what happens above or below

14

Faux Play Webs of remorse cover my bed as I stumble back into brambles A place that acts as a sanctuary but looks like a crumpled napkin A recluse wet dream that concerns no cordials But those that comfort a king who bellows in his castle Built high out of stone and assured to one day be ruins A faux ploy to thou I’ve surrendered built on all of those who I’ve sundered A war within my own; where ballast meets ballast And blunder meets blunder

0

Jun 14, 2019

Jun 14, 2019 at 12:57 AM UTC

FauxPloy

Faux Play Webs of remorse cover my bed as I stumble back into brambles A place that acts as a sanctuary but looks like a crumpled napkin A recluse wet dream that concerns no cordials But those that comfort a king who bellows in his castle Built high out of stone and assured to one day be ruins A faux ploy to thou I’ve surrendered built on all of those who I’ve sundered A war within my own; where ballast meets ballast And blunder meets blunder

9

Warmth is something funny, like the embrace of another How you long for it but hold that cold wall at night Warmth can smolder, smile, and smother It can burn you and choke you and make you feel as light as a kite Sometimes it feels right, and it can carry you through your nights The funny thing is warmth.. can come from cold hearts and warm hearts alike Sometimes it’s adrenaline, and sometimes it leaves you frozen Fight? Or flight?

0

Jun 11, 2019

Jun 11, 2019 at 3:06 AM UTC

Warmth

Warmth is something funny, like the embrace of another How you long for it but hold that cold wall at night Warmth can smolder, smile, and smother It can burn you and choke you and make you feel as light as a kite Sometimes it feels right, and it can carry you through your nights The funny thing is warmth.. can come from cold hearts and warm hearts alike Sometimes it’s adrenaline, and sometimes it leaves you frozen Fight? Or flight?

9