danny-hefer
If you take your time, / Look carefully, / You'll see that life, / Mine, yours or theirs, / Has been lived by / Other than me / you, or them. / Take your time then / And find him who / Has seen these things / That I have seen / With his own eyes / And ask him then: / Who the fuck are you?
I'd answer in kind,
but I cannot find
but a hope
My wandering mind
is but a child
chained to a kaleidoscope
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
The shiny, glossy shoes you wear to go outside,
and show the world how shiny, glossy your feel.
They are the shoes others will use,
to walk a mile in your life.
However bumpy, however ***** the road,
they won't feel the bumps and dirt,
wearing your glossy, shiny shoes.
Those old, everyday sneakers, they're not that bad,
the inside, shaped to your feet, years after years,
the outside a bit scarred, a bit battered.
Lend them, too, for a mile or two,
so all can feel how strong are your fee
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
If I'd know today
Would be the day
That I lost you
The day all my fear
And all my doubts
Came to be true
I would have prayed
I would have said
It's not too late
Now that light has dimmed and music has lost its color
Hopes of yesterday feel like a dream I'm longing for
You were my home
In a life already too big for two
Here all alone
It's exile, to be far from you
You were my home
Morning will soon come
What will become
Of tomorrow?
Like a vagabond
I'll walk beyond
Lands and sorrow
Follow the sun
And if I burn
Let it be so
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 7:07 AM UTC
It is said that the man,
not the gun,
kills.
With a gun in your hand,
you're no man,
but a child.
A child
who kills.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 6:24 AM UTC
Todesangst notwithstanding,
fingerspitsengefuhl undermines schadenfreude.
Like, you know,
like, literally.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
While wispy swirls
silently swept the air.
slowly smoldering,
vainly vanishing
blown at one end,
and fire in its hair
A cigarette
has stopped smoking.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Were we deaf to the rules
How would we enjoy
The sweet sound they make
We they break
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
I want to talk of war
Of the horror
Of every stain in the mirror
Stains of ichor, blood and tar
I want to talk of pain
Of the manner
Its infusion makes me cower
This time, next time, and then again
I want to talk of fear
Of ice and gale
Of hope and rapture - how they fail
As I do so, see how I sneer
As your eyes widen
As your ears shut
As you mouth opens
To retort:
All the beauty in the world
Is all around to be taken
Life too short!
Wake up, and then
witness marvels of all sorts!
I do not want
to speak of your marvels
you are the one who buried them
And as you flaunt
beauty as your anthem
You are still holding the shovel
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 7:56 AM UTC
There was in a country of old
A mighty giant, strong and bold
His feet, bigger than two big dogs
His fingers strong like wooden logs
High up in the mountain, I'm told
Away from the streets and the crowd
In his dark cave he dwelt alone
Feared by all, and fearing none
People trembled at his mere sight
Children, women and men alike
What a big arm, what a great roar!
And what a pride in his furor!
So you must say, he was happy
What is the point of my story?
I shall thus tell you a secret
The tall, tall fellow never slept
He would sometime give it a try
And although he'd never known why
His eyes shut in the depth of night
He'd give it up, not feeling right
But then one day, an ant, curious
Seeing him angry and bilious
Wondered " Golly, what's up in here?"
And climbed all the way to his ear
Feeling an itch, the giant twitched
And threatened "Out! You little witch!"
But the ant crept deeper inside
Whispering "Let's see what you hide"
"Do not look there, minuscule you!
It's not for ants to look into!"
Replied he in an angry slur
But she begged him "Please hear my word"
"For what I see, under your bulk
The very thing that makes you sulk
Depriving you of your slumbers
Is that you frighten great number
Truth to be told, your heart is sweet
But you're hiding in your retreat
For if you scare off more than few
You fear them more than they fear you!"
There was in a country of old
A mighty giant, strong and bold
His feet, bigger than two big dogs
His fingers strong like wooden logs
You will perhaps think it's fancy
'Cause his best friend is an ant, see.
And all the people from the town
Come to visit him in his home
But not at night, of after meals
They wouldn't dare disturb the dreams
Of a mighty giant's mighty sleep!
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC