stringer - Hello Poetry

And Chrysomallus discarded the golden fleece, on the shadowy east, Of the American land, Harvested, By charcoal calloused crimson red stained hands, Our industry Is heinous beyond belief It's a surprise that we can sleep in peace Selective memory is bittersweet

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Jul 31, 2018

Jul 31, 2018 at 5:20 PM UTC

The Golden Fleece

And Chrysomallus discarded the golden fleece, on the shadowy east, Of the American land, Harvested, By charcoal calloused crimson red stained hands, Our industry Is heinous beyond belief It's a surprise that we can sleep in peace Selective memory is bittersweet

8

1. If black humour is a sign of intelligence then who is the most intelligent of all? The hurricane that swept the weatherman away while reporting on a supposedly tranquil day? The ravages of nature which left Ozymandias all alone in the midst of the desert? Cruel cruel uncertainty, 2. Cupid sneezed, and let his finger go, A fiat lust led my way, A golden love gone, So, Why, o, why Do you plague me so?

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Jul 29, 2018

Jul 29, 2018 at 7:06 AM UTC

Cupid sneezed

1. If black humour is a sign of intelligence then who is the most intelligent of all? The hurricane that swept the weatherman away while reporting on a supposedly tranquil day? The ravages of nature which left Ozymandias all alone in the midst of the desert? Cruel cruel uncertainty, 2. Cupid sneezed, and let his finger go, A fiat lust led my way, A golden love gone, So, Why, o, why Do you plague me so?

12

The concrete rose, Never sleeps, never weeps With diligence and duty it keeps, Rising through the cracks, Bruised and battered but essence in tact

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Jul 27, 2018

Jul 27, 2018 at 1:35 PM UTC

Concrete Rose

The concrete rose, Never sleeps, never weeps With diligence and duty it keeps, Rising through the cracks, Bruised and battered but essence in tact

5

Ode to sincerity Unlike a candles flame Wrath contained, Dissipates not but grows and gains Wrath contained A brick in a washing machine A moth in a closet Wrath contained, A plant growing As Providence's Gardener is perpetually hoeing With a deft hand doubt's seed Wrath is sowing Wrath contained, Is Suffering's Yeast, To its expansion there's no end The closed mouth is an open space for Wrath to bend Sprouts of hope Wrath's malice fends Away and blights With its bligthening might Grinds light to dust Creeps under the plant *** it must Break in the foundation it may Once cheery now morose Day-by-day Wrath dissembled its host

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Jul 27, 2018

Jul 27, 2018 at 1:35 PM UTC

Ode to sincerity

Ode to sincerity Unlike a candles flame Wrath contained, Dissipates not but grows and gains Wrath contained A brick in a washing machine A moth in a closet Wrath contained, A plant growing As Providence's Gardener is perpetually hoeing With a deft hand doubt's seed Wrath is sowing Wrath contained, Is Suffering's Yeast, To its expansion there's no end The closed mouth is an open space for Wrath to bend Sprouts of hope Wrath's malice fends Away and blights With its bligthening might Grinds light to dust Creeps under the plant *** it must Break in the foundation it may Once cheery now morose Day-by-day Wrath dissembled its host

25

Its 6:01, Farringdon Platform 1 Shattered souls craned necks And twiddling thumbs. The fool in the know. The first to know; the last to accept it. Here stood reflecting. Silently condemning a life accepted Reams of fleeces overground and understated. Shrouded from sheering myself. The fool in the know. The first to know; the last to accept it. How my hem has freyed No, not from loft today Through rubbing ankles under desks, To metamorphose To a child cocooned blanket bound Rubbing ankles dreaming sound I dream as the child dreamt As a baby longed to feel I long for what I have felt

0

Jul 27, 2018

Jul 27, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC

6:01

Its 6:01, Farringdon Platform 1 Shattered souls craned necks And twiddling thumbs. The fool in the know. The first to know; the last to accept it. Here stood reflecting. Silently condemning a life accepted Reams of fleeces overground and understated. Shrouded from sheering myself. The fool in the know. The first to know; the last to accept it. How my hem has freyed No, not from loft today Through rubbing ankles under desks, To metamorphose To a child cocooned blanket bound Rubbing ankles dreaming sound I dream as the child dreamt As a baby longed to feel I long for what I have felt

20