will-dameron - Hello Poetry

Once, I had it bad for a girl She let me play ******** music in her living room, and she had long brown hair. she had a big *** dog. it was a good dog, nice to be around. she was too. I'm pretty sure That they both bit our bluesman friend at one time or another, but that's beside the point. Once, we stared at each other for a long time. Nothing really happened Except that I fell into the chasm of her eyes, And have spent every day since Working my way up the cliffs Outlined in shades of blue and green in her retinas, a Bedouin for my affectation and enamoration with the woman that I used to know. For a moment, I was even tempted to move into a cave in her mind, But the spirits called me forward Into the desert of my own mind. It's been a few years. She's in the embrace of methamphetamines now.

0

Oct 28, 2015

Oct 28, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC

Greer

Once, I had it bad for a girl She let me play ******** music in her living room, and she had long brown hair. she had a big *** dog. it was a good dog, nice to be around. she was too. I'm pretty sure That they both bit our bluesman friend at one time or another, but that's beside the point. Once, we stared at each other for a long time. Nothing really happened Except that I fell into the chasm of her eyes, And have spent every day since Working my way up the cliffs Outlined in shades of blue and green in her retinas, a Bedouin for my affectation and enamoration with the woman that I used to know. For a moment, I was even tempted to move into a cave in her mind, But the spirits called me forward Into the desert of my own mind. It's been a few years. She's in the embrace of methamphetamines now.

27

"Put a lucky-seven noose around my neck so I know it's real." Tie me to a fence post, Beat. Me. Leave a buckle-ended imprint on my *** Call me a dull-minded imbecile. A stupid little ****** If you will. Oh, take me back. Take me as I am. Baby, you make me feel Like a child again. Scrape at my scars so I know it's real.

0

Feb 28, 2013

Feb 28, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC

What was it you said about love?

"Put a lucky-seven noose around my neck so I know it's real." Tie me to a fence post, Beat. Me. Leave a buckle-ended imprint on my *** Call me a dull-minded imbecile. A stupid little ****** If you will. Oh, take me back. Take me as I am. Baby, you make me feel Like a child again. Scrape at my scars so I know it's real.

14

I have missed your company. Enveloped in strange faces, The only coterie I keep of late Is that of your overwrought descant. Oh, James Douglas. What happened to your dream? DO NOT DESPAIR, FRIEND The words you once transcribed Your intoxicating, Or was it intoxicated Ragtime Linger in the subconscious of a generation, an unnoticeable haversack Traveling Seeing Traveling Watching every ounce Of the determinate world Seeing Acting as The portmantoligism of my conscience And what is left of my intellect Until I realize that my Crippling loneliness, Is the only palatable fruit of disillusionment. See, Christine? Anybody can use big words to write about the 20th Century.

0

Feb 17, 2013

Feb 17, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC

The Lizard King

I have missed your company. Enveloped in strange faces, The only coterie I keep of late Is that of your overwrought descant. Oh, James Douglas. What happened to your dream? DO NOT DESPAIR, FRIEND The words you once transcribed Your intoxicating, Or was it intoxicated Ragtime Linger in the subconscious of a generation, an unnoticeable haversack Traveling Seeing Traveling Watching every ounce Of the determinate world Seeing Acting as The portmantoligism of my conscience And what is left of my intellect Until I realize that my Crippling loneliness, Is the only palatable fruit of disillusionment. See, Christine? Anybody can use big words to write about the 20th Century.

28

My life, A PLOT DEVICE A STAGE DIRECTION a footnote. But at least it serves a purpose.

0

Feb 5, 2013

Feb 5, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC

They tell me that the world is a stage.

My life, A PLOT DEVICE A STAGE DIRECTION a footnote. But at least it serves a purpose.

5

The world, my oyster My Wooden Orbital Strand Oyster. A hopeless search for an ersatz pearl. I hope you're proud Of what you have built.

0

Feb 5, 2013

Feb 5, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC

3/4

The world, my oyster My Wooden Orbital Strand Oyster. A hopeless search for an ersatz pearl. I hope you're proud Of what you have built.

9

I am not a morning person. I am not a man built for the sunrise, unless said sunrise is rising sullenly over the ridge on the culmination of a long summer's eve. This is not something that One Should Necessarily Lament When considering the fact that Mostpoliticaladvancementisdoneintheweehours. The hours of night beckon unceasingly. Time well spent in the company of Erebos. In a world where neon seems to burn with the brilliance of hydrogen, A confundation of chemistry comparable to my every interaction. Yet I find myself yearning for the age That I fall asleep on the same day in which I woke.

0

Jan 27, 2013

Jan 27, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC

Night

I am not a morning person. I am not a man built for the sunrise, unless said sunrise is rising sullenly over the ridge on the culmination of a long summer's eve. This is not something that One Should Necessarily Lament When considering the fact that Mostpoliticaladvancementisdoneintheweehours. The hours of night beckon unceasingly. Time well spent in the company of Erebos. In a world where neon seems to burn with the brilliance of hydrogen, A confundation of chemistry comparable to my every interaction. Yet I find myself yearning for the age That I fall asleep on the same day in which I woke.

17

Crawling Malicious Flow From every crevasse Seeping, Oozing, Running Blanketing everything In Unadulterated Apathy

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Jan 25, 2013

Jan 25, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC

Days

Crawling Malicious Flow From every crevasse Seeping, Oozing, Running Blanketing everything In Unadulterated Apathy

6

Lethargy creeps into my consciousness. I would gladly do something to fight it. If I wasn't so ******* tired.

0

Jan 23, 2013

Jan 23, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC

Sleep Beckons

Lethargy creeps into my consciousness. I would gladly do something to fight it. If I wasn't so ******* tired.

4

Her face A decade of over ex-posure to synthetic radiation coupled with far too much -Time. Time spent looking disgusted at non-trivial ventures created an irreparable leather-bulldog façade. A healthy dose of nepotistic narcissism and the articulation of railroad spikes trailing across an empty slate. A month's compensation signing the all-too familiar signature across the fibers of her liver How to resist Such a specimen of modernism?

0

Jan 23, 2013

Jan 23, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC

The Angel

Her face A decade of over ex-posure to synthetic radiation coupled with far too much -Time. Time spent looking disgusted at non-trivial ventures created an irreparable leather-bulldog façade. A healthy dose of nepotistic narcissism and the articulation of railroad spikes trailing across an empty slate. A month's compensation signing the all-too familiar signature across the fibers of her liver How to resist Such a specimen of modernism?

16