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Aug 2021 · 623
organasma
George van Horn Aug 2021
shes sat by the window
like a flower to the sun
burnt deep
paled lotus, mechanized motifs
cigarette, sweet parallel steams
lips pink, eyes deceased
silica tears, seeded
fiber optic designed !release
enter
automated dreamstate
delve
inside the beast
oscillating
pirouetting
psilocybe
serene
days gone underground
plagiarized by peace
prototyped the touch
she’ll never know
it’s me.
Feb 2021 · 184
Bottle to my head
George van Horn Feb 2021
When you giggled through the telephone
Telling me how you just ****** some coke dealer
And i’d never see you again
it was a beer bottle to my head
You wore hubris like a **** wears hublot
Everyone seemed to know
All about your misery
But you
To you
Your tears were salt for your tongue
Your sighs were air from your lungs
When you whimpered through the telephone
Telling me how you just ****** some coke dealer
And you never want to see him again
It was a beer bottle to my head
I never was too
fond of coke ******
But to see your newfound acceptance
Of your own true nature
Was a King
Reduced to kneeling
Was a Lion
Left to observation
Feb 2021 · 51
artists are screwed
George van Horn Feb 2021
A man is just a hammer
You learn to swing your weight as a boy
Shut your mouth, and do your job
An artist can’t be a man
His perspective is too vast
For something so narrow
His lens
Too wide
His soul
Too harrowed
The artist is a *****
Bashed by the hammer
A nail can be plucked back
Out of danger
When the placement doesn't work
But an artist?
He takes his beating
some big, dumb bumbling man
Clattered him over his head and he’ll never be free again
The artist adjusts to his hapless circumstances
He can’t move
All he can do is bellow out his bests
While being burdened by his worst
A man is a hammer
A man kills a boy
So an artist could be born
Jun 2016 · 445
satchel of hello
George van Horn Jun 2016
She followed the stars
She came bearing gifts
One wise woman
One satchel of hello
Chocolate orange bars
Stories of cigars
Peeled away my innocence
Burnt initials on my arms
She packed a paintbrush
And every day
she painted a smile on my face
But my smile became abstract
And at the end of our daze
She was the harshest of her critics
A satchel of goodies
became a suitcase
And hello became goodbye
I'll never forget you
Mar 2016 · 264
some bullsh*t
George van Horn Mar 2016
I'm a boisterous bull lookin for something new
You're a matador with a beautiful shade of blue
So why are we tearing this China shop in two?
I thought that I was made for you
Feb 2016 · 445
CROWN OF SPOONS
George van Horn Feb 2016
I will always be devout
I will always take your word
Guided by your shouts
Anointed by your slurs

I wear this crown of spoons
So feed me til I'm hurt
Stab a fork into my hands
For sliding mine into dessert

Praise be
Feb 2016 · 3.5k
Color your darkness
George van Horn Feb 2016
Color your darkness
embed your glistening gloss
the best secrets
are those untold
a thief with a house key
unheard words
are those desired most
so color your darkness
a black rainbow
is still a rainbow
they may not see the beauty
But that's what makes it yours
Feb 2016 · 424
Look
George van Horn Feb 2016
Have you ever looked in the mirror and seen yourself?
Or can you not see the soul through the eyes?
Stare until a glare has come, and left you holding your own existence in the palm of your hand
Stare until you lose the predetermined idea of what you are
Stare until you see yourself through the looking glass
And not just looking at the glass of your eye
Past the disguise is something purely extraordinary
See for yourself
Apr 2015 · 668
h2 + he2
George van Horn Apr 2015
You've lived a long life, burning through each day with a passion barely bridled by gravity
Expelling an otherworldly essence
Drawing me into your orbit, with a hug around my shoulders
Your hands planted firmly on my cheeks was an interstellar daydream
You put me between stars
Now you're fading
And no matter how many light-years away
I'll still feel your supernova
And that's okay
Your nebula will always shine
And your stardust will still burn bright as the eyes that bore witness to your life
Apr 2015 · 668
touch & go
George van Horn Apr 2015
3:36 AM
Close the door quietly
You're looking out the window like a flower to the sun
Silent enough to hear the esoteric whispers between mountains
We left our souls on the pavement
And our essence on each other
Apr 2015 · 1.0k
opposite of my nature
George van Horn Apr 2015
My feet forge valley's
Your steps walk on rivers
You're dancing with an earthquake
I'm crumbling with the tremors
George van Horn Apr 2015
I'm leaving you behind
I know I said I never would
But im leaving you behind
We always have been two shoes
wrapped around a telephone wire
But you know our soles are rotting
Its time to go
Oh, you know ill miss you so
But its time to grow apart
Raindrops fall on my head like little jagged knives
Cutting into the shelter
that houses all the memories
Maybe I should leave my umbrella,
and let the rain wash away the pain
I'll never take you for granted again
Humbled by a storm
Better to have never loved at all
Apr 2015 · 348
dependant little zombie
George van Horn Apr 2015
she comes alive when the liquid burns her stomach
i raise the dead when I buy her cheap whiskey
Apr 2015 · 898
come and go
George van Horn Apr 2015
lacerations grip her neck signaling her halo once fell
bruises come and go like nomads in the night
little silent assassins lick her from head to toe
little poker players bet their wages on her body
oh, but that dress hanging off her shoulders
and that smile
behind her respirator says everything is okay
everything is okay
Apr 2015 · 503
ang syetty
George van Horn Apr 2015
I just wanna leap through the window
of my introspective confines
housing the old familiar finger tapping
that i frequent in my times of need
maybe i should pray
clutch my ever-nervous fingers together
long enough to shell out conversation
with a presence hollow enough
to hear the echoes inside its holy

clear water streams down
my gaunt, blank expression
as if i just exited the ocean,
my heart desperate to devotion
letting go of the only hand
that's ever reached out to help
i'm sorry that i can't seem to
bring myself to hold on
& this cliff diver seems to have forgotten
his bungee cord at home
packed away in the same suitcase
that shelved his insecurities

— The End —