devin-ellis
American
You are tired, / (I think) / Of the always puzzle of living and doing; / And so am I. / / Come with me, then, / And we'll leave it far and far away— / (Only you and I, understand!) / / You have played, / (I think) / And broke the toys you were fondest of, / And are a little tired now; / Tired of things that break, and— / Just tired. / So am I. / / But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight, / And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart— / Open to me! / For I will show you the places Nobody knows, / And, if you like, / The perfect places of Sleep. / / Ah, come with me! / I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon, / That floats forever and a day; / I'll sing you the jacinth song / Of the probable stars; / I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream, / Until I find the Only Flower, / Which shall keep (I think) your little heart / While the moon comes out of the sea. / / e.e. cummings
It’s morning and very still and I’m walking perpendicular to three or four hundred but I’m their audience I stop to take a breath while Hunter Morris ninteenfiftytwototwothousandandone lays silently below me every time I breath out my breath floats to join the crowd but they’re really below me it’s hard seeing things for how they really are it’s Monday in December and somewhere in the city people press against each other as they walk -don’t tell me there’s not enough room- like hamsters huddling for warmth in a corner I ignore the dew and sit in the grass and
try to not be so much
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
You were something I heard
From across the room
Faintly
In passing
You were a rumor
An aside
Delicately whispered
(my eardrums abide)
Although I could not make out your words
I got the gist of you
And you stuck in my head
Like gum under a classroom desk
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
It’s pretty late
You’re standing across the room, talking to someone or something but I’m just here
These are your friends after all
But you look sad, like me
Like usual
Someone’s pouring me a drink and
I‘ve got that ichy feeling you get when you shouldn’t smoke your last cigarette
But you know you will
They say something to me and laugh
I’m sandwiched between a fantasy and crushing reality
like beautiful ideas that become **** when you write them down on paper
My feet are shaking, ready to move (anywhere)
I am the inches of terrible terrible air
Between the fruit on the tree and your fingertips
(you, tied to the ground, like me)
You can shout all you like, Tantalus
I know you
You’re just like me
We’ll never get anywhere
We’re frozen assets
We’re “get well soon” cards given out in the ******* cancer ward
We’re racecars stuck in the mud
But what do I know?
Why are we even here?
Do we have anywhere else to go?
I know it’s late
2:45 in the morning and raining
But I’ve got a third a tank of gas
and you’ve got that look in your eye
let’s get the **** out of here.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 1:17 PM UTC
When I was young the earth was too
Me, organic barren mirror
The feeling of impending time
Feeling life becoming clearer
Though young I noticed towering trees
In lines, at random how they stand
Together reaching for above
But miles above my outstretched hand
Strong like soldiers at their posts
Always standing, always there
Their bark was scratched, but they stood straight
And I felt safer for their wear
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 1:17 PM UTC
We almost stayed there the whole night, a debt we thought we’d owe
I spent that time talking to you
And said how we should go
Did we error in sharing everything, even our biting woe?
You helped me and I helped you too
But paid less than was owed
Winter came, and how we felt the coldness of the snow!
You told me I’m an okay *****
But now I ought to go
But in our house our love lingered, it’s putrid status quo
Heaped on our floor a pile accrued
Of debts we came to owe
We let our shame gestate in you, then cut it from below
We’re too young to know what to do
Too poor to pay the debts we owe
I guess that I should go
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
Her faith it heals, her mind protects
In fear of love her heart erects
A wall of stone to keep away
The visitor her heart expects
Her virtue will not let her stray
To thoughts of him or let replay
The memories edging at her heart
By night she'll kneel down to pray
"Oh please Oh God set me apart
Give me strength, a brand new start"
Her logic, though, is deeply flawed
As love is strong but not too smart
Each day she's building her facade
And always keeping him abroad
By night beside her bed she'll laud
Love's absence in the name of God
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
Stopped in a field and down to lay
The night the land, no stars no trees
I've found an empty place to stray
Just me, the grass, the friendly breeze
Which washes over me in waves
Snoring bugs asleep below
Beneath my head a million graves
How far they stretch, too far to know
Or guess by clues from eyes alone
(Dark air Dark ground, they coalesce)
Morning sun makes its vastness known,
But for now the tired field digress
-es from crazed chaotic noon
Now darkness a blanket Earth adorns
And I a child in its womb
Not quite ready to be born
Soon bright day will pull me back
Life's a runner that few outrun
But here I float beside the black
The sleeping bugs, the coming sun.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
The day awoke, not bright, content
With soggy greys, the light's been spent
In springtimes past, it will recall,
Though now it pulls its winter shawl
To shelter it from windy cold
Inside it sits, inside grows old-
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
A mother must be many things
First, she is a vessel
Faring seas not so calm
Then she is a gardener
Shining sun with her smile
Willing flowers out of the dirt
And picking out those weeds
Spreading seeds with a hope
That doesn't wither when the snow falls
Then for some time she is an acrobat
Balancing high in the air
Carrying great weight on her shoulders
Still, the audience will never
See her falter
For a while she may be a critic
Stiffly accepting nothing
But the best
But ultimately she is herself an artist
Chiseling and shaping meticulously
With gentle hands
I know
For I have been
Hauled
And tended to
And carried
And sculpted
With great skill
And love
More abundant
Than the oceans she once sailed
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 9:33 PM UTC