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 Apr 2016 King Panda
wordvango
just a leaf left
on the pillow next to me
now, a whisper of smoke
vapor tracing your path

out the door
going back to the
limb I stole you from,
the place you must return

I rake my bed for more,
try to make
a place
for you to fall

again, next time.
 Apr 2016 King Panda
KD Miller
4/12/2016
"Rappelez-vous l'objet que nous vîmes, mon âme,
Ce beau matin d'été si doux:
Au détour d'un sentier une charogne infâme
Sur un lit semé de cailloux?"

"My love, do you recall the object which we saw,
That fair, sweet, summer morn!
At a turn in the path, a foul carcass
On a gravel strewn bed?
"
Charles Baudelaire

I sat on the mossy footstool
that lied by the brook-
I had to really open my ears
to hear the soft regurgitation
coming from the clear muddy water, gliding over the slate,
piled up
the road, the one I drove on that one day we snuck out,
was placed gently beside it,
uptop a little cliff,
I felt this a beatific metaphor.

The air felt amorphous,
held a quality I couldn't quite
put my finger on.
and then I saw a tree,

a crooked one
who had seemed to grow
on the bank of the creek
because life, it seems, imitates art.

Its trunk dipped
until it ever so slightly grazed the water
its elm fingers
almost

almost.
I smiled when I saw this,
for it gave me hope.
I likened myself to the horseflies and new
tadpoles that flittered,

seraphic in quality,
borne with the quality of new life- the innocent quality
the one that just made me feel tainted, the more I surrounded myself with it.

The Friday afternoons on the avenue, with its port wine air
and this bubbling black slate brook

are the only places
that innocence lives-
if I had realized how quiet
the soft gargling of the cherub water was

I'd have stopped the car
and baptized ourselves
In it.
 Apr 2016 King Panda
Pea
Refrain
 Apr 2016 King Panda
Pea
do you want to see death?
i have plenty of them
scattered in my eyes--just
look beyond my irises,
you can't
stab my soul;
she is far behind
the flesh and bones
that slowly are turning
yellow like teeth--the yellow
from my skin seeps into
even the darkest of depth.
I can endure
Chill my way out
Of anything.
But what did Buddha do
About others' suffering?
They infect me.
I wish I could help.
Seems rude for me
To be so content
Over here
With whatever.
 Apr 2016 King Panda
KD Miller
4/7/2016
tw, suicide

you were five eleven
i thought it so elegant
you hated it though

i still see you walking down the
linoleum, sad halls
with your gown

and though you swore you
were ugly i thought you reminded
me of one of those pre raphaelite

girls.
you're dead now,
so i heard

i knew that the system
had failed you before
you even knew

you were defective,
you felt the need to be recalled
back to the mill

before you even knew that.
i saw you for a week
that's a funeral i wont be invited to

but i can't help but
think what your last
thoughts were

if there were any
i wonder if you said
goodnight to your

sister before
you did it
but i also

don't want to think
about it- the fact i
know a ghost
1998-2016
 Apr 2016 King Panda
CK Eternity
as I age the environment around me is also aging at the same time, it's impossible to remain in one place,

and near my family reunion: my father is still digesting a piece of gum, he says "I was never the type to believe in horoscopes," says "let's beat this guy up and take his telescope"
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