Poetria

Poetria Nov 2016

Time

Wall clock,
Tick-tock.
Slaves to all of time.
Fear,
Block.
Heart-drop;
Failure to comply.

hypnotised

Poetria Nov 2016

Perhaps,
perhaps the question
is not of who we are in our minds
but instead
where we have wound up to be
with the passage of time-
and time--
ticking seconds,
the blinking of eyes-
multiplied by the capacity
of a would-be lived life-
Indeed,
it could also be a question of
when we will reach
that place, or the faces
where our ends will soon meet
with the path of a victim
to the realms infinite;
lost in time- losing grip-
no control of our minds, tell me-
*do you see what I see in
the blink of an eye?

Do tell.

#time #space

Nov 2016

Rachel Rae

notes

i am in constant fear of forgetting.
forgetting how i feel,
what i'm thinking,
the directions to your house,
the quadratic formula,
all of it

so i leave myself notes along my way.
inked on my skin,
attached to sticky notes,
sticky-tacked on my wall,
in the paper's margin,
everywhere

but with you,
you're convenient.
tap two buttons at the same time
and our words are embalmed for another day.
just as easy as that.

every once in awhile
i like to refresh myself
by scrolling past each screenshot of us
i began to notice a pattern,
somewhere outside the messaging format

between each picture
were tons more, unrelated.
between us, whatever we are
life has moved on
we've been caught in our little world
while the rest has moved around us
but we have too

i know now
that no matter what happens
i will be okay
because time will move on
and i'll keep taking pictures
of things that aren't us
just like i have been
from the start

written 16 June 2015

Oct 2016

mk

there must be a place where broken words go

there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.

#poetry #broken #words #home #silence #speech #stutter

Poetria Oct 2016

Variations

An ashtray for dead cigarettes,
A trashcan for their waste.
I'll colour my canvas, paint it again
But it always dries the same.

Here I am again, craving change.

#ashtrayinspiration