It’s really, truly morbid, how my vehicle came to me,
Twas’ the death of a friend of a friend of a friend
Of a friend who was close to thee
He was dead when I got your keys.
I find that I’m quite infatuated, by your shining, crimson flair
And your window that squeaks, and your faux leather seats,
Stained carpets and central air
Who knew trucks could be debonair?
Shall I name all life’s pains that mean naught in you?
Like that person who says, and then he says, and she says
They all say, and then it is true
So, I drive to find new points of view.
We will thrive on gasoline fumes and the human will
Until the ground is ****** dry and wells shot
Till then, freedom, adventure, and hidden hills
Will be ours, you and I, Bombadil.
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 8:49 PM UTC
I want to be near you sometimes. As much as I love you
I wish that I could love you better, that he could love you better,
That you could love you better.
Its not about being bitter,
though I am, and it is
A taste of chicory coffee dark and thick as car oil,
Soiled.
And you can’t spit it out, the taste lingers around,
And just like coffee, I’m addicted, taking a new sip every morning,
Remembering his face, when he looked at you with a curled lip and recalling
Your face pretending not to know.
And I resented you both.
I took an oath,
Never to blindly bind myself brainless and loveless
Now I’m unwound,
Trying desperately to learn how to knit
Because everything is in tatters.
-Tori
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 11:30 AM UTC
The sun hides his face behind gray morning clouds,
Like a tot playing hide and seek.
And at times from around those silver-lined borders,
His beaming face will peek.
He spies me there as I wander below him,
Lilting along my way,
And at once tucks his face out from sight again,
It’s a little game we play.
The westward wind is at once cheerful and lithe,
He tosses my hair to the sky,
Strumming the treetops like a God-made kazoo,
With notes that are cool and light.
The trees all awake to the sound of his tune,
Tossing gracefully to and fro.
Maiden dyads and naiads waltz gracefully on,
Swinging in time with their boughs.
The gravel laughs heartily beneath my worn feet,
In a voice that is deep and merry,
He tells the sweet tails of his long-forgotten trails,
And the travelers they have carried.
He can outline the best and the worst of mankind,
All the forks which have marked their paths,
Of the men who showed courage ‘gainst nature and foe,
And of the burdens on their backs.
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 12:54 PM UTC
The towering oak dipped his crooked fingers into the sky,
His rich green leaves stirring the soft, rose-blushed clouds
Which draped themselves demurely across its glowing expanse.
The luminous half-moon pokes his intrusive eye through
that resplendent array of gold, purple, pink, and yellow,
forewarning the passing of this at once homely and sacred pleasure.
For a time, he must reign, bathing the sky in his stately silver glow.
Though the earth below is singing, the sky is all a’ hush now
and he pulls the veil of slumber o’er the land of that towering oak,
promising to remove his gentle veil one more come dawn.
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC
It is a sticky night.
Like the watermelon that drips down your chin
Like the humid air that sticks to your skin
Like that song you can name when the first note is hit
Uncomfortable, beautiful
Like the clothes that stick to your back
Because you have clothes
Like the way that our messed-up families stick together
Because you have a family
It is messy, like glue
It is sticky, a sticky summer night
Like all of those nights, long ago
Like the blood that was shed for you, for me, by a stranger
By hundreds of strangers
It’s a legacy and it sticks
And we can only pray that nights such as these will
become a memory, something permanent
a fixed point in time, something that endures
We hope that, even just for a little while
It might just stick around
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 5:25 AM UTC
He tugged at a snag
On our tattered old sweater
And left but a pile of thread.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 9:22 AM UTC
Forever pursue the unattainable horizon,
With each step growing more willing than sure.
Courage, faint heart! and lightly go,
Lady Fortune turns her back on those who tarry...
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 1:50 PM UTC
Hey dilly, day-lilies, sing me a song
As I walk past your bed, as I dally along
In the night, lilies, day dillies, I'll pass ere I go
And see petals tucked daintily, forming an "O"
As I pass, dilly dally, as daily I pass
Will you twist your green stems, entertain me at last?
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
Fuel of the all-consuming fire
which illumines the forest green
Renewing the heart and life of the soil
through the ache of its searing heat
and without it?suffocation.
Which strangles the life of the wood
leaving in its wake a blank and barren earth
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 12:29 PM UTC
Its the resounding footstep in a hollow stair
The swift tapping of a keyboard at midnight
The the delicate ripple of far away laughter
The hum of a crowd that's subdued to a hush
The crunch of footsteps on a worn gravel path
And the crisp titter of birds in the morning air
Its the refreshing kiss of rain-washed walk
The warming embrace of oven-fresh bread
The melancholy notes of steamy espresso
The calm of an herbal tea held to the lip
The musk of an old book discovered anew
Its newly-cut cedar in a woodworkers shop
Its the movement of limbs to a lively tune
A welcome stomachache caused by a laugh
The firm, tender grasp of a loved-one's hand
Cascading warm water along bare skin
The cool of a breeze on the laborers brow
Its bear feet tripping through the grass in June
Its a leaf-eclipsed glimpse at the blue of the sky
The miscellaneous covers on a library-shelf
Sunset dipped clouds or'e a tree lined horizon
The dark of wet ink scrolling across a blank page
The vast dome of a galaxy untainted by light
Its the generous exchange of lover's keen eyes
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 11:09 PM UTC