jacob-1 - Hello Poetry

I am not but dust Yet this I do know: You are a brass bone In the most ancient of gods A fiery point of light in This novel machine Regurgitating bruise- colored mandalas & Novel universes @ a whim If life were true I would build eleven marble cities For you And gilded spires Twisting to Knife the rose horizon Would be my poetry unto you

0

Nov 27, 2018

Nov 27, 2018 at 1:41 PM UTC

Amber (centered)

I am not but dust Yet this I do know: You are a brass bone In the most ancient of gods A fiery point of light in This novel machine Regurgitating bruise- colored mandalas & Novel universes @ a whim If life were true I would build eleven marble cities For you And gilded spires Twisting to Knife the rose horizon Would be my poetry unto you

17

In brief: scalpel words so cheap Misanthropic cold compress Jaded and hard in denial Heavely Medicated without Prescription Mute Pain Guilt soaked peace Once more At least On this rock I’ve built my church And drunk of this poisoned cup Enough Salted sigh the spike Do not resuscitate For the bones of it Are a pistol cool pressed To a temple Derelict Sleep without rest Please, one more breath Vein or scar Blood loss And the cost: Everything

0

Aug 15, 2018

Aug 15, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC

****** is my ******

In brief: scalpel words so cheap Misanthropic cold compress Jaded and hard in denial Heavely Medicated without Prescription Mute Pain Guilt soaked peace Once more At least On this rock I’ve built my church And drunk of this poisoned cup Enough Salted sigh the spike Do not resuscitate For the bones of it Are a pistol cool pressed To a temple Derelict Sleep without rest Please, one more breath Vein or scar Blood loss And the cost: Everything

25

I bathe In the moon-soaked Ocean of you Sewn Soul to soul pretend that you are Sleeping next to me Breathing next to me multiplied and added powers By the gleam of your laugh

0

Apr 9, 2018

Apr 9, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC

Lone

I bathe In the moon-soaked Ocean of you Sewn Soul to soul pretend that you are Sleeping next to me Breathing next to me multiplied and added powers By the gleam of your laugh

10

If ye are the white page I shall be that black mark Senseless confusion abides I thy center Cloudless sky Or single bird be ye: I die a million lives Within thee Reincarnated eternal If it gives but a single breath To your song

0

Feb 18, 2018

Feb 18, 2018 at 5:10 AM UTC

Untitled

If ye are the white page I shall be that black mark Senseless confusion abides I thy center Cloudless sky Or single bird be ye: I die a million lives Within thee Reincarnated eternal If it gives but a single breath To your song

11

With Grays and Blues Awake before the grayscale Is abolished by morning sun Leaning naked in the doorway Watching snow slip In that silence before birdsong walking crooked fenceline The steam of horses Nostrils flaring kiss her As the dogs dance behind snow still now on the hillside She reads alone Laughing spilled wine words she drinks Content to leave The kitchen light on curled again Linen sheets and quilt cool skin She swims In dreams Of gray and blue

0

Jan 22, 2018

Jan 22, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC

I Would Paint Her

With Grays and Blues Awake before the grayscale Is abolished by morning sun Leaning naked in the doorway Watching snow slip In that silence before birdsong walking crooked fenceline The steam of horses Nostrils flaring kiss her As the dogs dance behind snow still now on the hillside She reads alone Laughing spilled wine words she drinks Content to leave The kitchen light on curled again Linen sheets and quilt cool skin She swims In dreams Of gray and blue

22

You are the forty 7 sided polygon that I do not presume to understand. You exist in dimensions above my own. You exist on planes beneath. I beg Beg to be a fly Just to crawl upon you the Sistene chapel of you To kiss my antenna Against your skin And test the scent of your solitude Strange How the fates have spun Eleven threads that did not cross But once Our fibers touched- And I lowly spun When once our threads did touch

0

Mar 17, 2017

Mar 17, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC

When once our threads did touch (centered)

You are the forty 7 sided polygon that I do not presume to understand. You exist in dimensions above my own. You exist on planes beneath. I beg Beg to be a fly Just to crawl upon you the Sistene chapel of you To kiss my antenna Against your skin And test the scent of your solitude Strange How the fates have spun Eleven threads that did not cross But once Our fibers touched- And I lowly spun When once our threads did touch

16

Stillness

0

Jan 6, 2017

Jan 6, 2017 at 10:34 PM UTC

With silence he is crowned And eyes which spilt eternities The future he thinks To hold the leash And the past he covets Beside the fire It is his desire To think of it There is no sleep And when the sun Slits the horizon the wound gushing on pale sky He squints bloodshot eyes And he is alone There is no sleep

0

Oct 27, 2016

Oct 27, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC

The Hitchhiker

With silence he is crowned And eyes which spilt eternities The future he thinks To hold the leash And the past he covets Beside the fire It is his desire To think of it There is no sleep And when the sun Slits the horizon the wound gushing on pale sky He squints bloodshot eyes And he is alone There is no sleep

15

Ageless Endeavor Sinking ever The needle of the mind Devine & Emotionless Eyes Dissect Pouring Over the novel concept Of you

0

Oct 18, 2016

Oct 18, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC

Reptilian

Ageless Endeavor Sinking ever The needle of the mind Devine & Emotionless Eyes Dissect Pouring Over the novel concept Of you

11

I was dust before But then I knew I was a brass bone In the most ancient god A point of light in The machine twisting Mandala regurgitating Novel universes @ whim If life were true I would build eleven cities For you And golden spires; minarets Twisting to Knife the pink horizon Would be my poetry

0

Sep 26, 2016

Sep 26, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC

Lucidity

I was dust before But then I knew I was a brass bone In the most ancient god A point of light in The machine twisting Mandala regurgitating Novel universes @ whim If life were true I would build eleven cities For you And golden spires; minarets Twisting to Knife the pink horizon Would be my poetry

16