mr-ree - Hello Poetry

if i had a horse i’d call it peony a foal white, raised sand by sea far from spur and saddle then i’d let her go free beauty walks down by the water whilst flowers wilt at her door

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Jul 9, 2019

Jul 9, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC

if i had a horse i'd call it peony

if i had a horse i’d call it peony a foal white, raised sand by sea far from spur and saddle then i’d let her go free beauty walks down by the water whilst flowers wilt at her door

6

if i had a boat i'd call it gently why? to sail it so

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Jul 1, 2019

Jul 1, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC

what would you call your boat?

if i had a boat i'd call it gently why? to sail it so

3

the rock spinning silent in space listen to lovely water's flow let go

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Jul 1, 2019

Jul 1, 2019 at 6:08 PM UTC

the rock

the rock spinning silent in space listen to lovely water's flow let go

4

should have heard it then when she said bite me on a bed of roses since we smoked it, all around her is this grey boring mess looking through creases towards the hills and far away the sun sets behind hunched shoulders over greener grass she casts shadows they follow while one leg lifts on the fence we turn smiling hope it jumped behind a tree to giggle when there's horned wire between us she'll make that suckling face of a twisted child oh exhale, we shame the twister read the essays, they conclude we see more than the bruised, bullied blisters we see inheritances bled on innocence hot potatoes passed along sweetness i’m strong and hands of hammered iron your chef, poet, music painter lye back, love maker twirling issues while herbs dry on my mothers table childhood nudges play ball the sun wafts in a cool breeze like heaven while salt cures white rose petals

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Jul 1, 2019

Jul 1, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC

let her go

should have heard it then when she said bite me on a bed of roses since we smoked it, all around her is this grey boring mess looking through creases towards the hills and far away the sun sets behind hunched shoulders over greener grass she casts shadows they follow while one leg lifts on the fence we turn smiling hope it jumped behind a tree to giggle when there's horned wire between us she'll make that suckling face of a twisted child oh exhale, we shame the twister read the essays, they conclude we see more than the bruised, bullied blisters we see inheritances bled on innocence hot potatoes passed along sweetness i’m strong and hands of hammered iron your chef, poet, music painter lye back, love maker twirling issues while herbs dry on my mothers table childhood nudges play ball the sun wafts in a cool breeze like heaven while salt cures white rose petals

25

let me down then spinning raged, spitting red see my face seldom smile can you hear my teeth grind whilst you take mine? my image of a village the one u paint a smoking city **** off whilst i sleep, weep for my sodden hopes exclude, remove do not talk to me sweet teenage attitude

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Jun 2, 2017

Jun 2, 2017 at 8:04 PM UTC

na

let me down then spinning raged, spitting red see my face seldom smile can you hear my teeth grind whilst you take mine? my image of a village the one u paint a smoking city **** off whilst i sleep, weep for my sodden hopes exclude, remove do not talk to me sweet teenage attitude

13

what you sayin 'how you feelin, healthy?' reluctantly i now dote a burnt black box lost & loose, it rattles cry on my altar for a scarlet word’s fate is worse librate, I alone stout battle smoke chasers the roaring drums beat and mute marvel me how’s your schedule sugar are you busy? is your skin still the softest clean that seldom sin? are your arms still the warmest home i ever lived in did i hurt you, does it ring cause **** I’m always feeling sorry forever turning beds pillows stuffed with plastic worries red tears on a swollen head i hid fists in love letters i snapped bridges that we'd crossed together but then she's trust and talking and I’m sorry from mister mystery

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Mar 9, 2017

Mar 9, 2017 at 9:16 AM UTC

wys

what you sayin 'how you feelin, healthy?' reluctantly i now dote a burnt black box lost & loose, it rattles cry on my altar for a scarlet word’s fate is worse librate, I alone stout battle smoke chasers the roaring drums beat and mute marvel me how’s your schedule sugar are you busy? is your skin still the softest clean that seldom sin? are your arms still the warmest home i ever lived in did i hurt you, does it ring cause **** I’m always feeling sorry forever turning beds pillows stuffed with plastic worries red tears on a swollen head i hid fists in love letters i snapped bridges that we'd crossed together but then she's trust and talking and I’m sorry from mister mystery

26

a beautiful singing bird playing above the trees drifts like a cloud and plays love like a teen this one's made of dimples and lifts home cuddles in the cold and the soft fuzz on her skin an idol conversation in the dark a filter for the stark there it flies up from the tree aim BANG once again is shot dead to me dead to ****** me me who buried traps of fists little lies on the path ahead me who’s now he instead BANG there she goes I’m on the trigger all night any flutter by the nest in my head is another caracas hung in the shed im a predator i shut them out and BANG lock the door idol eyes slip to her name we’ll change it now an X in there make it easy for my burning brain but then its pictures of sinking tug boats stiff socks empty cold spots legs snapping arm locks to the funnest person i knew your story’s told now shew!

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Mar 2, 2017

Mar 2, 2017 at 5:05 PM UTC

SHEW!

a beautiful singing bird playing above the trees drifts like a cloud and plays love like a teen this one's made of dimples and lifts home cuddles in the cold and the soft fuzz on her skin an idol conversation in the dark a filter for the stark there it flies up from the tree aim BANG once again is shot dead to me dead to ****** me me who buried traps of fists little lies on the path ahead me who’s now he instead BANG there she goes I’m on the trigger all night any flutter by the nest in my head is another caracas hung in the shed im a predator i shut them out and BANG lock the door idol eyes slip to her name we’ll change it now an X in there make it easy for my burning brain but then its pictures of sinking tug boats stiff socks empty cold spots legs snapping arm locks to the funnest person i knew your story’s told now shew!

38

clemence your stone ideals see words are metaphors for chaos of metal ores acquit bad thoughts screen printed in reverse onto your t shirt and sewn deep in the back of this boudoir manifesto you so love to show three’s no magic number magic’s a metaphor too for awe and misunderstanding, idiot two is triumph two is love it blesses you with magic there’s something real about you not just a dart of light across a funk of meat in that tempered embrace you’re more than a flicker in cosmic heat one is monologue one person talking pretending they listen self affirming ending every story, the quiet avenger dreamers be careful relax a bit you can only ever hate yourself don’t eat your own ****

0

Feb 22, 2017

Feb 22, 2017 at 5:34 PM UTC

stop eating your own ****

clemence your stone ideals see words are metaphors for chaos of metal ores acquit bad thoughts screen printed in reverse onto your t shirt and sewn deep in the back of this boudoir manifesto you so love to show three’s no magic number magic’s a metaphor too for awe and misunderstanding, idiot two is triumph two is love it blesses you with magic there’s something real about you not just a dart of light across a funk of meat in that tempered embrace you’re more than a flicker in cosmic heat one is monologue one person talking pretending they listen self affirming ending every story, the quiet avenger dreamers be careful relax a bit you can only ever hate yourself don’t eat your own ****

30

I’ve been eyeing the door all week retreating to meditations of peeling new potatoes growing my hair out in lisbon working hard at a sink where no body knows me in the evenings we could smile in the heat eat cheap fish toast homemade port with unfamiliar ladies lye in harder beds on softer ground run

0

Feb 15, 2017

Feb 15, 2017 at 12:31 PM UTC

run

I’ve been eyeing the door all week retreating to meditations of peeling new potatoes growing my hair out in lisbon working hard at a sink where no body knows me in the evenings we could smile in the heat eat cheap fish toast homemade port with unfamiliar ladies lye in harder beds on softer ground run

12

now strip all the streams of her paint her face from the walls delete the digital shards of the omission professed, inept the moaning tease of love stops and now it begins the hoarding of art the roaring wells of smoke designated paintings gungey pink words a gun fires deep in the woods and out limps a lover’s touch strip all the streams of her board every wandering tunnel delete the digital shards of our shattered growing up

0

Feb 9, 2017

Feb 9, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC

heart ache

now strip all the streams of her paint her face from the walls delete the digital shards of the omission professed, inept the moaning tease of love stops and now it begins the hoarding of art the roaring wells of smoke designated paintings gungey pink words a gun fires deep in the woods and out limps a lover’s touch strip all the streams of her board every wandering tunnel delete the digital shards of our shattered growing up

17