WJ Thompson: Favorites

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

CeilingStar

Trapped in a mind so grey, so dark
Too empty, it leaves a trail of numb
In a shadow under emotions thumb

Waiting to be found
Spinning and caged
Down on the ground

Hot fire burning out by a skin so cold
Waiting, waiting to grow old

Alchemist of scenarios and doubts
Your happiness is no longer visible through the pool of misery through which you view the world and it's shouts

All night
And at every sight

Shell of immovable clouds
You wanted more
A thousand hours
And here you lie
Lacking your usual shroud

Stitched soul
Sinking sun
Cast your rays
Your story is told

K.G.

and now let the empty be full

#alone #anxiety #empty #trapped

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

The Poet

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

Sjr1000

The Poet

he won't shut up
when he's around
he wants to write everything
keeps on formulating phrases
hallucinating
couches into flying carpets
swearing that he's seen
the ground from the sky

The Poet
we never know what he's doing -
turning black sheep
into heaven
he's stuck on the inside
looking out

The Poet
he won't shut up
but when I really need him
he's no where to be found

when he wants what
he wants
in these poems of his
I know I'll wind up
embarrassed humiliated and forlorn

The Poet
when he's around
he won't shut up
he keeps going on and on

And when he's gone
Silence.

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

Under the Water

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

Scott Hamsun

Under the Water

I look up from the bottom of the lake
To see the stars painted onto the underside of the ice.
Like a canvas, flawlessly decorated by God,
But still a prison.

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

Behind the Eyes

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

Gabriel burnS

Behind the Eyes

The buttery eye of a butterfly caught my sigh slipping shy to the windowsill where your lips spill insomnia powering watermills undefeated by the modern Don Quixotes. My muse breathes in higher frequency... I'm telling her to stop... Stop. My thoughts don't rely on my lungs anymore for they have organs of their own... as well as separate agendas. They paint you psychedelicate, frail and yet invincible. Murderously vulnerable. Violently tender. The hunted is the hunter. The femme fatale.

windmills, watermills, who cares :)

#thoughts #muse #painting #frequency

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

The Woman Who Fiddled With Our Minds

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

R Arora

The Woman Who Fiddled With Our Minds

You wrote 12 lines,
Which we spent several minutes on;
Interpreting.

You wicked, wicked woman.

Playing with words,
Simple words;
Arranging them
In an ordinary manner.

For us,
*Creating a labyrinth.

To Stevie Smith's wonderful poem- Not Waving but Drowning. :)
It was complex but witty.

#life #death #society #labyrinth #wicked #smith

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

Pressure

Mar 2017 WJ Thompson

Georgia Marginson-Swart

Pressure

I learnt today
that if you were to traverse
the depths of the ocean
the building pressure
would push all breath from your lungs
and your blood would burst
with the heaviness of it all
oh but for you, darling
for the azure currents in your eyes
i would sink