parledor - Hello Poetry

it is what it is, i say but it may change, you reply and - your eyes glisten like the sun above a dark ocean, a tiny boat rocking toward distant horizons. this is the day when the cage is torn open and all the pet birds are thrown outside; yes, we won't ever be able to meet eyes the same way when tomorow comes.

0

Dec 7, 2018

Dec 7, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC

shifting

it is what it is, i say but it may change, you reply and - your eyes glisten like the sun above a dark ocean, a tiny boat rocking toward distant horizons. this is the day when the cage is torn open and all the pet birds are thrown outside; yes, we won't ever be able to meet eyes the same way when tomorow comes.

14

i. not bad, i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing for the first time ever ; not bad was my way to say extraordinary still is today i have standards, you see and — well... they were met when i heard you say, "that's only half what i can do." let's get this straight: i was the best at what i do until you came around ; it's not like i'm mad though — quite the opposite in fact. ii. here's something else: i have always liked the way your eyes shot daggers even when you were smiling ; a death stare, they named it and, you know, i won't call them wrong — i'm rather fluent with the concepts of death and staring myself, after all. ah, do you remember? when we spoke to each other — it was always a sparring of eyes rather than words. iii. a fact: you have been called cold more often than you have been called pleasant ; i know — it's not like you'd disagree not like you'd be stupid enough to deny ; cold is a comfortable shadow to hide in, something people like us wear as a coat or a scarf from july to june. now, there's this saying that the addition of two negative objects turns them a positive result ; i'm not much of a scholar so, honey, what's on your mind? iv. i get it now, if i'm propellers you are wings — rather than a mirror, we're distorted reflects a thing evolution knows a great deal about ; this yearning is the aspect of you i'd wish to keep bottled up ; "what for?" you'd ask. no, yearning is not a thing i'm a stranger to ; i've yearned for many things including strength sleep serotonin and you — i've been struggling to make them mine, though perhaps because i'm never really trying. v. that's how you do it: you take what you want with clawed hands accomplish miracles with thunderous silence — an entity of cruel fairness, icy anger but — what you want is a complicated thing with definite shape to your eyes but blurry to those of others. okay, i'm neither believer nor seer but here's a little prediction : the day you are satisfied is the day hellmouth shuts down upon us all and half of me prays for it. vi. about extremes — some will say grey is a better shade and though i confess it does have its charms, it still has to paint me a picture more striking than a soul with adamentine purpose. see — i stare as you pass by, terrific in beauty beautiful in hardness and off — goes my heart, sanity, ego and shirt.

0

Sep 13, 2018

Sep 13, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC

digressions on polarity

i. not bad, i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing for the first time ever ; not bad was my way to say extraordinary still is today i have standards, you see and — well... they were met when i heard you say, "that's only half what i can do." let's get this straight: i was the best at what i do until you came around ; it's not like i'm mad though — quite the opposite in fact. ii. here's something else: i have always liked the way your eyes shot daggers even when you were smiling ; a death stare, they named it and, you know, i won't call them wrong — i'm rather fluent with the concepts of death and staring myself, after all. ah, do you remember? when we spoke to each other — it was always a sparring of eyes rather than words. iii. a fact: you have been called cold more often than you have been called pleasant ; i know — it's not like you'd disagree not like you'd be stupid enough to deny ; cold is a comfortable shadow to hide in, something people like us wear as a coat or a scarf from july to june. now, there's this saying that the addition of two negative objects turns them a positive result ; i'm not much of a scholar so, honey, what's on your mind? iv. i get it now, if i'm propellers you are wings — rather than a mirror, we're distorted reflects a thing evolution knows a great deal about ; this yearning is the aspect of you i'd wish to keep bottled up ; "what for?" you'd ask. no, yearning is not a thing i'm a stranger to ; i've yearned for many things including strength sleep serotonin and you — i've been struggling to make them mine, though perhaps because i'm never really trying. v. that's how you do it: you take what you want with clawed hands accomplish miracles with thunderous silence — an entity of cruel fairness, icy anger but — what you want is a complicated thing with definite shape to your eyes but blurry to those of others. okay, i'm neither believer nor seer but here's a little prediction : the day you are satisfied is the day hellmouth shuts down upon us all and half of me prays for it. vi. about extremes — some will say grey is a better shade and though i confess it does have its charms, it still has to paint me a picture more striking than a soul with adamentine purpose. see — i stare as you pass by, terrific in beauty beautiful in hardness and off — goes my heart, sanity, ego and shirt.

116

yes, breathing filth hurts we've known it far too well for comfort ; clogged hearts / this is not opposites attract but polar sames — you scrub your hands for the sixty seventh time this week and i scrub your footprints off the bedroom floor with ritual sanctimony — the house reeks of turpentine but it's the smell of c l e a n / yes, it goes just like this the repeating loop of a washing machine ; mirror stains .

0

Sep 6, 2018

Sep 6, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC

white spirit

yes, breathing filth hurts we've known it far too well for comfort ; clogged hearts / this is not opposites attract but polar sames — you scrub your hands for the sixty seventh time this week and i scrub your footprints off the bedroom floor with ritual sanctimony — the house reeks of turpentine but it's the smell of c l e a n / yes, it goes just like this the repeating loop of a washing machine ; mirror stains .

19

But what is even enough for you, you ask As if I shut myself in the highest room of the Tower on purpose; who would do that? I am no Dorothy. If I throw my body over the railing, I have no idea what will happen. It would probably just break my skull if you don’t catch me down there.

0

Jul 4, 2016

Jul 4, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC

XVI

But what is even enough for you, you ask As if I shut myself in the highest room of the Tower on purpose; who would do that? I am no Dorothy. If I throw my body over the railing, I have no idea what will happen. It would probably just break my skull if you don’t catch me down there.

17