Spring is a coil when juices boil,
vines that spiral, a lust as viral.
It's the time when I was born,
after a salty summer dawn
when two tired ants stayed home.
Spring is the dawn of a hundred days,
an iris spilt a billion ways.
It's the water in the soil
heavy enough to float on oil.
It's the scent of trembling dirt,
the aroma of clean skirt.
It's the time to be and grow,
something every seed does know.
A little sunshine, a hint of snow.
It's a time to get your ***
and wash your sickle in the flow.
Iron rusts and so does blood
dust is really just dry mud.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 4:22 AM UTC
*- I'm dying to see you.
- I'm dying, too. See you.*
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
All I want is to
clean the air we breathe
while drinking from the mud.
I want to climb up to the sun. I want to
grow and grow and grow. I want to stand
against the wind. I want to shade those looking for
a rest, be their cradle and their nest. I want to give my
children to the hungry. I want to drown to hold the
dreamers. I want to burn and warm the workers.
I want to rot
and feed
the
worms.
I want
to grow,
grow and go.
I want not to want.
I want to be a tree.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
*There is no colour in your cell
and there's a reason for the smell.
There is no rain which you can taste.
Spit it out, or you get maced.
There is no walking on the grass
bend over, smile and kiss my ***
There is is no living in a tree.
My books, my laws, no mystery.
You were not raised to be a bird,
you, are a member of the herd.
There is no wingspace in the sky.
You work, you **** you die.
And you, you have no use for a guitar,
you are a peasant, not a Czar.
There is no colour in your cell.
It is supposed to rhyme with hell.
There is a reason for your cage.
There is a reason for your rage.*
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
This little pup is black and white.
This little pup stays awake at night,
choking on the warmth of the midnigh light.
This little pup is gonna put up a fight.
She's a curious thing,
all angry and cute.
She's a strange little mutt,
whose howl seems mute.
Oh, she cries, but after the storm,
like when she dies, just before dawn.
She scares, but only if she cares.
This little pup is in a state,
which she naturally thinks is not so great.
This little pup is a little gray.
This little pup is gonna be ok.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC
i knew two warriors,
one who breathed
and one who didn't.
And then he didn't.
Maybe this is a poem
and maybe it isn't.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
So much pain i cannot feel it.
So, i deal with it.
Put it in words and deal it.
Put it in drawers and seal it.
They tell me it's good to feel pain.
i tell them i'll cry with the rain
i'll save my tears for the seeds,
the weeds and the insane.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
If I'm to believe in a higher power,
then every second feels like an hour.
When it's spent away from you,
heaven seems plastic and untrue.
But if Gods are a delusion,
then you'll pardon my intrusion.
There's no plan, no we, no "one".
Without love, my soul is gone.
Yet, if this cosmos was designed,
there is a port I have to find.
But if it's simply chemistry and dice,
then my heart can live on ice.
Wake me up when we can travel in time,
when we can turn our blood to wine.
And if you could be mine,
that would be divine.
Is there a God?
I don't know, I haven't met you.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 4:16 AM UTC
We are not in this to save ourselves
or maybe the only way to save ourselves
is to lose our bodies.
Let the wolves have our flesh
if that is what they want
and if they are hungry.
We are not fighting because we are hungry.
In fact, we are not even fighting
because we don't want to fight anymore.
There is plenty for all.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 7:19 PM UTC
Tirelessly
he
insisted,
"n*obody
kwows
inspiration
negating
god".*
"O*h
friend,
a
muse
undoubtedly,"*
she
explained.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC