Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
kasie-anna-shahbaz
American
everything is inside of me. i’ve found being. what cannot be said but only heard what cannot be touched but only felt. here in a vacuum of loneliness soul streaks sky bleeds down my legs. the mossy moon and running red pounding the atmosphere but leaving only a whisper among the weeds on the earth that are very, very alive we barely can hear you and then we lose you and then you’re there
0
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
Untitled
Are the notches of my spine The swirling staircase Of your home? Did you call up my vertebrae To hear your echo Rain down? Did the walls of my skin Make you feel Not alone? Did you see your reflection In the ice Of my bowels? Did you know I am sick with you And need you out I can see you When you're looking In me at yourself
0
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
Untitled
poor mind. suckling your dry mouth innocent eyes wanting but pried. are you the last to know that mother is dead? a time has come, my condolences, when time will not hold its ends and it will be far too grand for you to tie up or pretend. poor mind. are you the last to know not even earth holds you underneath your feet.
0
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
dead infant
somehow i became a foreigner amongst excess of imagination and creation. i like old things like sunlight ducks mother and sadness. bread. lakes, lagoon, fog. bones warm skin dreaming at afternoon. somehow they return the fullness not above or below but vibrating in the current of things, spirit sailing in the melancholy mist. everything still in its right place still, somehow even though we're desarraigo but no one really had a home and home wasn't even us. we breathed. soft breaths rise from two shore birds up into a wild land and fall back into bed it never became anything more.
0
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
confession
outside of my window there is a sun. we look at each other, finally, into each other’s eyes. and people screaming and a violin streaming as long as the ghost can see the river, in its eyes. the wind knows the bottom of the stream. so remember that every time you look and don’t see. there is no truth- why else over and all would there be the deepest light?
0
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
Untitled
there is no final decision- i saw houses and people and infinite lives all happening, i ran by to get only a glimpse and nothing more. the stairs and escapes and balconies and living rooms propelled my heart by something it has always, but never known, and i think that’s what they call inspiration. yet now i know we’re coming to an end, still can i say we are in our right place? there’s no smiling brother by my side no unconditional acceptance in the drivers’ seat, so i’m here in the city, and the beauty that just is is still. yet what was more than enough now might not be anything and yet, drowning, the one breath it has left it uses to fight me. neither of us know where or why we breathe, but there it goes.
0
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
Untitled
when was mystery put on trial? when did we give up our true faith for faith in truth? magnificent sky; i don't care if you're my creator, or my killer (which you are both); my heart wells the same, things must fall apart to come together. heart, you shall see. it will be too much, so just enough.
0
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
Untitled
your home is a twilight elegy i am a bluebird in your backyard weeping at the vastness but mostly at the rocks- every last one- i feel your legend in my stomach, it tides out as a windy cry song into our children before you come back here twice at least holler your charge will have vanished as it is born, because the weight of your rifle is love and what could blame you for my death there are no mistakes here, dear nor are there endings, only, forever, becoming---- so i sing and you shoot
0
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
Untitled
the sun is melting all the forms i thought i knew the boats are rowing planets in from a black sea into infinite blue
0
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
san francisco window
maybe if I loved poetry more i wouldn’t be able to write it. i don’t want to go to cafes and write i don’t want to go on walks i want to wake up and feel it all
0
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
artist's dilemma