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May 2016 · 488
Untitled
Andy Blackwell May 2016
rubicon hangover
sherbert lemon sunrise
butterscotch *******
with an afterbirth smile
pastiche or phantom
beautiful proportion
cutting mothers apron
the circle of time

location location
circumnavigation
stylised continuum
great britain is a lie
mass for the masses
blood on the carpet
thank you for not smoking
its a marvel we're alive

thirty thousand drowning
thirty fathoms counting
suffer little children
not in my back garden
slumber in a haven
sleeping with forbidden
waterfalls and gravestones
selfish over soil

war americana
revolutionara
helicopter complex
compliment our ego
nuclear disaster
what use is a master
fall out over fallout
tinnitus and drones

avalanche of feedback
pentatonic ***** slap
abstinent castrati
carry me away
shiver orchestration
gentle fornication
sexually vacant
naturally vague
An attempt at writing abstract poetry - I basically just chose words and phrases that leapt out at me and that sounded nice together and I'm really pleased with the acoustic result
Jan 2016 · 201
Obsessed
Andy Blackwell Jan 2016
Is this what it's like to be obsessed,
With my chest still wet from your tears and your breath?
Your face is the only thing I recollect

Your relationship's failing and I watched you cry
Your beauty eclipsing the red in your eyes
Under a starless sky, I swear you did shine
With your skin pressed to mine

You shook as I held you and pulled on my shirt
So I pulled you in closer, embracing your hurt
You buried your face in my neck
And I focused my eyes on the dirt

Our friends asked if we kissed and, believe me, I wanted to
But I couldn't help feeling guilty for wanting you
For you are not mine to want, and I wish I was in his shoes
But the leather is torn
And my feet are too small
I can't make them fit
And I'm not fit for loving you

Is this what it's like to be obsessed?
I caught you as you fell, now I'm catching my breath
I wish this was something that I could forget

For your relationship's fixed, and I swore I wouldn't cry
But your beauty's imprinted on the lids of my eyes
And when I press them closed, I swear you still stilling
I just wish that your light was still mine
This is an old one from a couple of years ago but, while the details are different, the emotion in it has become pretty relevant again so I revisited it and fell in love with it again so here ya go
Jan 2016 · 281
Untitled
Andy Blackwell Jan 2016
Let not these weary eyes and weary minds take precedence
The pretence of importance could fade to nothing once we rest
Once we wake, heartache may slip away,
And your face
(while still as vibrant and as vital as when I kissed it last)
Could fade too,
If not in beauty or sincerity, then
From a motivation to a memory

— The End —