westbow - Hello Poetry

Longing like a spruce Water dream Coursing down, borne wild **** all -9 You untie my spear Willing but spared Waterfall noise

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May 9, 2021

May 9, 2021 at 11:23 PM UTC

westbow

Cordial

Longing like a spruce Water dream Coursing down, borne wild **** all -9 You untie my spear Willing but spared Waterfall noise

7

There is no home With which I'm blessed or bothered No tether; air I'll fall back simple and cold There's symbiology Creeping along the curtain The covers Hiding my papercuts

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Apr 30, 2021

Apr 30, 2021 at 4:41 AM UTC

westbow

Untitled

There is no home With which I'm blessed or bothered No tether; air I'll fall back simple and cold There's symbiology Creeping along the curtain The covers Hiding my papercuts

8

Untold simulacra Could you jump to twelve Some kind of sickening sweetness Again and again Cycle kinesis Usurping the gravity Kiss the blind man Bumble your words

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Apr 30, 2021

Apr 30, 2021 at 4:39 AM UTC

westbow

Untitled

Untold simulacra Could you jump to twelve Some kind of sickening sweetness Again and again Cycle kinesis Usurping the gravity Kiss the blind man Bumble your words

8

You know I So much bigger than any passion I live here Deeper inside you still There's contrast Start, with a poor soul chattering You sing this Still so soft and scared I sing this Things are raveling undone Some tremble You hear my sickening cry I turn back Seeking a similar numbness You hold this Under my cries, I crawl

0

Apr 30, 2021

Apr 30, 2021 at 4:35 AM UTC

westbow

Untitled

You know I So much bigger than any passion I live here Deeper inside you still There's contrast Start, with a poor soul chattering You sing this Still so soft and scared I sing this Things are raveling undone Some tremble You hear my sickening cry I turn back Seeking a similar numbness You hold this Under my cries, I crawl

16

coal omen, deep blue body spark and spit, new light beacon 6, cycle 9, register 13 cloud rise drifter, beautiful hair spin 90 on y, we're late mouth glow, toward the sky inhale 6µ, used to be smoke steel, steel, steel

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Sep 12, 2020

Sep 12, 2020 at 7:24 AM UTC

westbow

quantization

coal omen, deep blue body spark and spit, new light beacon 6, cycle 9, register 13 cloud rise drifter, beautiful hair spin 90 on y, we're late mouth glow, toward the sky inhale 6µ, used to be smoke steel, steel, steel

8

Cliche Cobbled Hurried steps, desperate for footing Up and down again I remember when I was more paced Uncertain and odd, there was yet truth to my movements Invoking a sound from a texture long lost I wonder what a round moment might feel like Pushed against a sharpness I didn't not account for My choices are smaller still Whisper between the lanes of edge and acceptance I eat an apple in my mind But only fried potato in reality Sickly with starch and false comfort Down, below the dancing LEDs There, the pit of pits I want to scream, but only for myself I don't want to be heard or considered Loneliness, I am no longer offered Maybe I'll manufacture it instead? Push away, let you down, a crack in the reverberation A bell toll wakes me up to a new modality A pattern I haven't yet considered? The dull uniformity tells me no There is discipline, and there is me Far from married, at war with knowledge Cliche Cobbled I watch the walls of my basement crumble The mortar turns to sand Adhesion long dried Dust Dust Dust

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Dec 8, 2019

Dec 8, 2019 at 11:33 PM UTC

westbow

Crumble

Cliche Cobbled Hurried steps, desperate for footing Up and down again I remember when I was more paced Uncertain and odd, there was yet truth to my movements Invoking a sound from a texture long lost I wonder what a round moment might feel like Pushed against a sharpness I didn't not account for My choices are smaller still Whisper between the lanes of edge and acceptance I eat an apple in my mind But only fried potato in reality Sickly with starch and false comfort Down, below the dancing LEDs There, the pit of pits I want to scream, but only for myself I don't want to be heard or considered Loneliness, I am no longer offered Maybe I'll manufacture it instead? Push away, let you down, a crack in the reverberation A bell toll wakes me up to a new modality A pattern I haven't yet considered? The dull uniformity tells me no There is discipline, and there is me Far from married, at war with knowledge Cliche Cobbled I watch the walls of my basement crumble The mortar turns to sand Adhesion long dried Dust Dust Dust

34

There is never a rhyme to how it happens. Your body moves like a wave, only to freeze, My naive desire sinks, deepening with the cracks in my skin. You are the stillness of a lake. I am the silent pier where knots are tied to secure your vessel. Climb atop, and step with confidence. I will hold you -- for a time, anyways. Leave me in disrepair, my mercy howl to the sands of time. Here, I will surely rot and slumber.

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Aug 1, 2018

Aug 1, 2018 at 3:37 AM UTC

westbow

skipping bones

There is never a rhyme to how it happens. Your body moves like a wave, only to freeze, My naive desire sinks, deepening with the cracks in my skin. You are the stillness of a lake. I am the silent pier where knots are tied to secure your vessel. Climb atop, and step with confidence. I will hold you -- for a time, anyways. Leave me in disrepair, my mercy howl to the sands of time. Here, I will surely rot and slumber.

11

the fear of writing is overwhelming now. with every moment like daring the keys beneath me. i cursor left and edge a sharp deletion; "no, what a tiresome thing." i squint towards absentee grit on a whim, and count the number of years. it's been six. (6), and six too many. have i bled my color all wrong? my fingers are heavy. i have no posits to share. and so, none will be spoken.

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Jul 28, 2018

Jul 28, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC

westbow

illusion

the fear of writing is overwhelming now. with every moment like daring the keys beneath me. i cursor left and edge a sharp deletion; "no, what a tiresome thing." i squint towards absentee grit on a whim, and count the number of years. it's been six. (6), and six too many. have i bled my color all wrong? my fingers are heavy. i have no posits to share. and so, none will be spoken.

14

The raft off shore Against the river He's sick on whisky and foal Spoken songs Throat of coal His barrels bound with gold Newly risen Surely dead Rapids drink and blow

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Jul 21, 2015

Jul 21, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC

westbow

Oaken

The raft off shore Against the river He's sick on whisky and foal Spoken songs Throat of coal His barrels bound with gold Newly risen Surely dead Rapids drink and blow

9

White Hot. I'm Surrendered. Punctuated and Capitalized. You leave my nerves a mess. Bright blue might do it for some, Me? I am left sick and shaken. Always there, the eddie or the draw. Deep down into that cylinder. I might care more about it, in another life. Now, I am ruined by it. Broken into one piece too many. Scared for my life. My home grown serenade. Perhaps the clatter and drag will catch up with you. The rue and righteousness consuming you. I hope you find an easier peace. Something softer. I think, in undetermined ignorance: "No one deserves to break."

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Jul 29, 2014

Jul 29, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC

westbow

Circle

White Hot. I'm Surrendered. Punctuated and Capitalized. You leave my nerves a mess. Bright blue might do it for some, Me? I am left sick and shaken. Always there, the eddie or the draw. Deep down into that cylinder. I might care more about it, in another life. Now, I am ruined by it. Broken into one piece too many. Scared for my life. My home grown serenade. Perhaps the clatter and drag will catch up with you. The rue and righteousness consuming you. I hope you find an easier peace. Something softer. I think, in undetermined ignorance: "No one deserves to break."

20