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A 94 million mile adventure that only whispers the ending
A ray of sunshine travels all life, never knowing when it passed the middle. Only in the end, when it touches something or someone, does it learn the true reason it existed. I dunno why, but that just struck me as very human :)
 Oct 2015 Eliot York
Melissa
it's not that special

what i do

because all i do

is put down

words

that sound cool:

nacreous

adulation

effervescence

narcissistic

imbrogli­o

divine

haphazard



there's no rhythm

in what i say

all i'm doing

is breaking

lines

and adding

s p a c e s



sometimes

(yes, sometimes)

i put my words

(in these)

in things we call parentheses

and sometimes

(yes, sometimes)

i repeat myself

and call it

emphasis

(emphasis)



on occasion

I might rhyme

but that takes thought

and that takes time

cat, hat, bat

late, hate, date

fat, gnat, mat

mate, fate, eight



sometimes syllables

can help your flow sound better

much like a haiku



if i talk about angst

death, love, and self-hate

(cliche topics)

it's deep

but my favorite

poem i ever

wrote

was about bacon



and god forbid

i capitalize

because that would mean

it didn't look artsy

THIS IS NOT OKAY

Neither is this.

no punctuation

at all



people say my poetry

is beautiful

that I follow all the rules

but I didn't know there

were rules

to follow

really all I do

is put random words

random phrases

in random patterns

and call it art
i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
 Sep 2015 Eliot York
Ammajeje
blue lips turned green crumble at my kiss
I run my hands through golden hair
which turns to tangled weeds at my touch
I hold you close while your body evaporates
back to the air, back into the sea
your nothingness invades my chest
clenches my heart until it’s forced to beat
I’m hostage to the void you left
my love only grows,
it expands into my darkest corners
until there is no room left for others
only you
The blood moon
Fell softly in the night
Just another night
Alone
Nothing special
Nothing different
At all.
Just a ******* red moon
To mirror my long
Fall
 Sep 2015 Eliot York
js
the haunted house looked too much like your ribcage.
the rides only reminded you that you're not scared of dying.
your lips looked so beautiful while they pouted around cotton candy you pretended to eat.
i look at you and my whole body feels like a roller coaster.
i just want you to be okay and i don't know if you can be.
 Sep 2015 Eliot York
Thinking Doc
The light at the end of the tunnel
Turns out to be a fleck of the halogen glow
Of a streetlight, a guiding beacon for the lost
The ****** and the awake in the hours of repose.

I count myself among the nocturnal demographic,
Cold, shivering, dejected till the first light of Dawn,
Brings me rest and sleep.

I am part of the night shift

With me are  thousands of others,
Walking towards the factories and mines,
Which feed the endeavour of materialistic existence.
A damnation that those who repose now,
Will never understand.

The shift begins in silence and ends in a blast of the siren,
Declaring our freedom, granting us permission,
To be free again, bathed in the first lights of Dawn,
As we ascend from the pits of the Earth,
The boiler rooms, chambers and assembly units,
In mines, factories, manufacturing plants,
To repose and miss the Sun,
Till the cycle begins again.
Night Shift, arresting to the difficulties of those who work during the night.
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