****
mandolins seem to screech out a tune like the cries of those who loved you;
if not for us, for you, please thrive in a meadow verdant with joy.
the rickety stairs of my old home, approximately thirteen steps, creak,
reminding me of how your back must of wept and your soul must have cried from the weight heavy on your shoulders.
Kenzie, oh Kenzie,
why?
soar like a phoenix, reborn, where you are now free;
inhale the air much like the questionable smoke you breathed in here,
and appreciate where you are, high with the sensation of relief and not chagrin.
Kenzie, oh Kenzie,
i miss you already.
you lifted me so that i could touch the sky, remember?
on the ninth month nigh the end of the first day,
you let me discover myself.
were your shoulders heavy with the weight of loathing,
or sadness, then? i wonder.
Kenzie, oh Kenzie.
at the time where the clock strikes,
the hourglass runs out of sand,
at the time where my time in this realm is over,
come to me in the afterlife with a tad of Mary Jane?
i would bring the light, of course.
let us absorb artificial calm together,
engulfed in a beautiful oblivion,
like you promised we would.
Kenzie, oh Kenzie,
cry away the tears that have drowned you.
you are free now, dear girl,
let me light you a crimson candle to help guide you to safety.
you will be missed, treasured forevermore,
but i always did think that your beauty surpassed that of the living.
Kenzie, oh Kenzie,
goodbye.
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 9:31 PM UTC
when you were used to loneliness,
he was right behind you,
a winged man who caught you.
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 6:05 AM UTC
my poetic brilliance is nothing to boast about;
it is a curse
because the best poets
write with blood, sweat, and tears.
i hope to grow old,
someday,
and be ridiculed for my distasteful,
unwise poetry;
i won't need praise to fill a void in my heart that is meant to be youthful,
i shan't be fruitless and tired;
i will finally be happy.
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 6:02 AM UTC
the extraordinary sensation
of my heart beating far too quickly to be comfortable in my idle body
is a pain that even i, a poet,
may find a hard time describing.
think of it as your body hosting the end of the world.
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 5:59 AM UTC
i'm tired;
the creaking of the wooden stairs of my old bungalow home
reminds me of how my back weeps
when it is reminded of the heavy weight on my shoulders.
i'm tired;
the melancholic music that plays
as i try to force myself to sleep
reminds me of my lonesome circumstances,
and i can't help but wonder what it would feel like
to sleep forever?
one try;
i'm tired;
goodnight, forevermore.
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 5:55 AM UTC
Pendant que je joue le mandoline, les flames brûles humblement.
C’est la nuit; hélas, je ne voit pas le soleil. Mais on voit les étoiles !
On peut voir de la fumée, mais pourquoi? On gèle !
Est-ce que ça se peut que c’est toi qui fume une cigarette pure
Pendant que tu admires les étoiles; pendant que tu admires la lune gibbeuse ?
Et toi, mademoiselle ! Aimes-tu la musique de mon mandoline fière ?
Ou peut-être vous-êtes une femme qui préfère le son d’une lyre…
Ah, bon. Je’n sais pas jouer la lyre, mais peut-être t’aimes chanter ?
Non, non, non ! Tu me dis. Mais pourquoi ? Vous-êtes une dame pointilleuse. Mais peut-être t’aime la poésie ? Je sais raconter des histoires !
Oui, oui, oui ! Tu me dis. Parfait, je te raconte l’histoire de ma vie.
C’est une oeuvre, je le sais. Mais tu deviennes langoureuse, vous êtes endormi.
Ah, je le comprends. C’est **** ouais ? Très **** je le sens, mais je’n bu pas !
Mais désolé, je joue encore mon mandoline, mon mandoline en acajou.
Et le bois du foyer n’est presque pas là, je voit seulement de la cendre.
Mais c’est **** c’est très ****
Donc je souffle les bougies,
Et je vous souhaite une bonne nuit.
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 8:47 PM UTC
Well, it was fun while it lasted
but deep down, in my soul,
I knew it wouldn't last.
Your moral compass
was never the same
as my own,
your excuses rusty and
ever so transparent.
Thanks for the experience, though,
for the knowledge I now have,
and may you continue your life
peacefully.
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 1:31 AM UTC
I finally sent him a letter
tied to the leg
of the same little blue bird
that had told me many things.
I didn't know what he would do
at the time,
but he responded with such enthusiasm,
it was almost too much.
And so we went out
and talked over drinks,
and then he kissed me
after forgetting my name.
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC
He was dashing, he was tall
he laughed a lot and smiled a ton!
I only ever saw him in the same place;
he helped all who entered,
gave them their bread and drink
and he liked to laugh with me.
Did he really like me?
I sure hoped so;
it would have been mutual,
reciprocated.
You like me?
Likewise.
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 9:33 PM UTC
I was busy chasing someone else
when I knew the love dissipated, disappeared.
And then a little blue bird came flying from a big blue sky, bringing a message not on its leg, but in its chirp.
There was another who knew me,
and then he watched me,
and then, well,
I suppose he liked me.
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 4:03 PM UTC