crepuscule - Hello Poetry

They show me vast expanse of virginal lands. They tell me words like breathtaking and lush. They gaze at dusty trees and sprawling sands. They point and gasp and they hum and they hush. They show me all of Uganda at once, Holding the globe in their palm and their whim; They capture it with their drones, blazing guns, Riding jeeps that cut jungles to a trim. Their mirrors shine brighter than all the suns They show me with praise and awe to the brim. They rant about how clean, and how unbound, How pure, as they yell and laugh and drop their Trash, but not their attitudes, to the ground. They cut through grass and leave cracks in their wake. They screen their footage and their findings on Flat-screens and talk of wonder and splendour, Five-stars in forests and lights blinding on, Massacring on hot days in December.

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Aug 20, 2016

Aug 20, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC

Explorer

They show me vast expanse of virginal lands. They tell me words like breathtaking and lush. They gaze at dusty trees and sprawling sands. They point and gasp and they hum and they hush. They show me all of Uganda at once, Holding the globe in their palm and their whim; They capture it with their drones, blazing guns, Riding jeeps that cut jungles to a trim. Their mirrors shine brighter than all the suns They show me with praise and awe to the brim. They rant about how clean, and how unbound, How pure, as they yell and laugh and drop their Trash, but not their attitudes, to the ground. They cut through grass and leave cracks in their wake. They screen their footage and their findings on Flat-screens and talk of wonder and splendour, Five-stars in forests and lights blinding on, Massacring on hot days in December.

18

I hold glass bottles to the sky In thunderstorms, I go home and shelf them for light. I crawl up and back into you In thunderstorms and wrap in warmth till I can't breathe. Drown me In thunderstorms; Hold my head down inside your veins. Your goosebumps hug me to you, snug, In thunderstorms When I find asylum under Your thumb. In thunderstorms, I love you again. Just for a while, While my mind pours columns of cold, In thunderstorms That hang over my head and haunt Me with self-doubt till I stress out. In thunderstorms, I watch the rain drip down my brain And cut through ice and chloroform.

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Jul 4, 2016

Jul 4, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC

thunderstorm

I hold glass bottles to the sky In thunderstorms, I go home and shelf them for light. I crawl up and back into you In thunderstorms and wrap in warmth till I can't breathe. Drown me In thunderstorms; Hold my head down inside your veins. Your goosebumps hug me to you, snug, In thunderstorms When I find asylum under Your thumb. In thunderstorms, I love you again. Just for a while, While my mind pours columns of cold, In thunderstorms That hang over my head and haunt Me with self-doubt till I stress out. In thunderstorms, I watch the rain drip down my brain And cut through ice and chloroform.

22

Everything looks whitewashed ----Against the rain on panes--- ---Of glass. Every smile looks-- ----Painted on, and stuck in----- -----Place, fitting in perfect------ ----Squares of frozen 4 by 4.----- ------------------------------------------

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Jun 22, 2016

Jun 22, 2016 at 3:44 AM UTC

Instant

Everything looks whitewashed ----Against the rain on panes--- ---Of glass. Every smile looks-- ----Painted on, and stuck in----- -----Place, fitting in perfect------ ----Squares of frozen 4 by 4.----- ------------------------------------------

7

I have had ideas, many times; I have had anger at all the world And its plates and cups and knives and forks And pots and pans. I have used coffee scrub, up To my elbows And sugar scrub on my face. I have stood over rose beds With my legs far apart And bled colour to the world below, Trailing my hell along behind me. I have had bitter blandness Blanch the back Of my throat and the roof of my mouth Until all that was left was bleach. I have held glass bottles to the sky Waiting for thunderstorms. I have whispered my love to the palm of your hand, Then watched it drain out through the cracks into sand. But still I will eat All my meals out of teacups/ I will let my blemished body be/ I will smell every flower Growing along the side of a drain/ I will gargle before bed With pinecone and cherry grain/ I will watch Outside my window for hail/ I will whisper other things to you Until the end Of time Or tomorrow -- Whichever comes first -- and hope that inspiration strikes.

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Jun 20, 2016

Jun 20, 2016 at 5:43 AM UTC

Brain Freeze

I have had ideas, many times; I have had anger at all the world And its plates and cups and knives and forks And pots and pans. I have used coffee scrub, up To my elbows And sugar scrub on my face. I have stood over rose beds With my legs far apart And bled colour to the world below, Trailing my hell along behind me. I have had bitter blandness Blanch the back Of my throat and the roof of my mouth Until all that was left was bleach. I have held glass bottles to the sky Waiting for thunderstorms. I have whispered my love to the palm of your hand, Then watched it drain out through the cracks into sand. But still I will eat All my meals out of teacups/ I will let my blemished body be/ I will smell every flower Growing along the side of a drain/ I will gargle before bed With pinecone and cherry grain/ I will watch Outside my window for hail/ I will whisper other things to you Until the end Of time Or tomorrow -- Whichever comes first -- and hope that inspiration strikes.

34

I don't know if I should be Ceaselessly hopeful That I am understood Or ecstatic That I can finally understand you. You, without me, outside me, Much larger than life, and me, Before me, far from me, unlike me, Are magnificent, Sweaty sweet, Systematic and Symptomatic, Making a difference to the universe. While I sit here, Waiting for the world To make a difference to me, Making excuses that everything I'm thinking Has been thought already.

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Jun 20, 2016

Jun 20, 2016 at 5:21 AM UTC

Bakhtin

I don't know if I should be Ceaselessly hopeful That I am understood Or ecstatic That I can finally understand you. You, without me, outside me, Much larger than life, and me, Before me, far from me, unlike me, Are magnificent, Sweaty sweet, Systematic and Symptomatic, Making a difference to the universe. While I sit here, Waiting for the world To make a difference to me, Making excuses that everything I'm thinking Has been thought already.

18

I wait with you at bus stops And down lonely roads that Lie vacant, with watchful shops, And one lone star follows the cars Until they meet at the moon. Flashes of light and laces of dark Ribbon my face Alternately And the split ends of your hair Leaning down from the sky Kick it every time I gaze Upwards. Orange spotlight dims from tall lamps That stutter my dream sequence Filled to the (brim) with Sprouting teeth and gaps Gaping at us. Our friends follow us In slow-mo And I only miss you when The road is running straight up To the moon; I'm afraid of the climb, but Can't wait for the drop. It follows. My fillings have come out.

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May 26, 2016

May 26, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC

Don't Look Now

I wait with you at bus stops And down lonely roads that Lie vacant, with watchful shops, And one lone star follows the cars Until they meet at the moon. Flashes of light and laces of dark Ribbon my face Alternately And the split ends of your hair Leaning down from the sky Kick it every time I gaze Upwards. Orange spotlight dims from tall lamps That stutter my dream sequence Filled to the (brim) with Sprouting teeth and gaps Gaping at us. Our friends follow us In slow-mo And I only miss you when The road is running straight up To the moon; I'm afraid of the climb, but Can't wait for the drop. It follows. My fillings have come out.

26

It is 1:20 am And I am at 7% And I have only one bar of signal And my screen tells me "Reconnecting..." I'm 93% done with 'us;' You have drained each per cent of my patience. I'm getting mixed signals From the language of your body, And very few at that. But I take a chance on us, Another chance, At this hour of lateness, Maybe we can rebound and re-bond And not just reminisce. I reckon we could Reconnect.

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May 17, 2016

May 17, 2016 at 5:31 AM UTC

Reconnecting

It is 1:20 am And I am at 7% And I have only one bar of signal And my screen tells me "Reconnecting..." I'm 93% done with 'us;' You have drained each per cent of my patience. I'm getting mixed signals From the language of your body, And very few at that. But I take a chance on us, Another chance, At this hour of lateness, Maybe we can rebound and re-bond And not just reminisce. I reckon we could Reconnect.

18