There’s a sickness
or a ringing
in the early hours of night
and it creeps and creeps and creeps
till you’re begging for the light.
There’s a pinging, pinging, triumph
of wisdom in your eyes.
You have grown and now you know
not to take me by surprise.
It’s a slow infatuation
seems to ebb and flow with tides
or with the special flitter-flutter
of un-all-knowing minds.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
How the heart approaches what it yearns, I considered.
Or how the mind remembers what is doesn't need.
I smile at the memory of an ex's ex's ex's name.
How the heart approaches what it yearns,
Or how sometimes the heart stays still and yearns and yearns till it gnaws into your ribcage and you feel every pulse and every whimper and every sigh of that very sad *****
How it sometimes falls in love with no regard to where you are in life
with no real regard to how you feel, the ******* your heart, just falls in love.
As if it never belonged to me, as if it belonged wholly to you, it just goes and falls in love like every dawn and dusk belonged, in fact, to it.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 12:09 PM UTC
Let me begin by claiming ignorance
Secondly, your voice pierces,
Steadily but bluntly
Like the tools of Australopithecus
Thirdly, I have other things to do
Fourthly, you’ll find out what it’s like to disappoint
and be disappointed
Fifthly, five fingers I have,
five of which are for his esophagus,
five of which are for you,
and five are for me.
Five times over,
fifth times a charm,
Five times over.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 6:12 AM UTC
I stumble upon the root of all my problems;
The water-bearer and the fish, I suppose,
But the water-bearer was sliced thinly and eaten raw
I realized, I hypothesized, I anagnorisised;
*Now, now, that’s not a word,
That’s an excersize in child’s play.
You’d know better. You’d do bettter not to;*
But were I allowed to continue, I’d clarify;
You didn’t say anything?
I smiled.
Well, when you were my age, I was half of yours;
Do you remember me?
I’m not here to flatter you and you’re really begging the question.
Well, when you were my age, I was half of yours, so I suppose you understand?
I’ve never believed in numbers but these are undeniable, would you agree?
How did you chance upon such a place, such a position?
How was your day?
What’s your favourite bird?
Have you even seen a secret evolve?
Where are your eyes and your hands and your ears?
Have you felt me recently?
Dreamt of me?
How was your day?
My love, I’m trying to start a conversation.
Well, you know I’m not here to flatter you…
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 6:11 AM UTC
To take you and place you, raised.
You are the dawn.
You take with one hand.
I pry the other hand open and find it empty.
You are to be praised, for your creator’s sake.
Your mistakes, His perfections, sacrilegious.
Bring me towards Him so that I may pray for you to come towards me.
My eyes are closed. And I stumble on words, but not yours.
Distances. I’ve never been enough.
Legs not long enough. Arms not strong enough.
I couldn’t lift you up and I couldn’t let you go.
Regardless, you are to be praised, to be raised. Exalted.
My death is on standby. My calling is mute, mum, moot.
L’amour est un oiseau rebelle.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 5:55 AM UTC