Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Jurtin Albine Aug 2016
What could this mean?
What could it be...?

Could* I be interested?

Not entirely likely…

Maybe a little orderly bee could tell me,
inform mee of what places to put my ***,
or what organizations I should reject.

Like anyone knows for themselves…

An opinion removes itself.

How insufferable.

How decipherable.

How it comes from a disciple...


Shows you up.

Shoes
you wrong...

Puts a word to another song,
but for how long…?

Until the cricket croaks?
Until the cheep chokes?


In notes...
nine to say the least;
she tells me of a beast.

How wonderful she is,
I can’t deny,
but still that little voice—

*HAS TO DIE.
Jurtin Albine Aug 2016
Mix
Malted
Tumultuous
Feathers
Flapped
Fluttered
Flew
Rising
Above
Things
That
We
Knew
With
A
Coo
Wings
Clipped
Crumpled
And
Blew
Trying
To
Get
Back
To
You
Weather
The
Two
And
Still
Not
Through
Mangled
Tether
Secondary
Strap
Always
Comes
Back
For
A
Final
Lap...
Weary
Wings
Make
Their
Way
Around
By
Marching
It's
All
You
Search
For
But
Never
Expect
The
Search
For
The
Word
Isn't
Over
Yet...*

It's all you seek,
but never can find.

The elusive word,
evades my mind.
(allusive)
Jurtin Albine Aug 2016
I don’t know
whether I love you,
or if I loath you…

I guess I’ll just take
the middle ground,
and say,

‘I like you.’

The scratch on your face heals
as my attraction comes and goes…

What am I up to?

Making something beautiful,

‘I don’t care.’

Easy as that,
and I’ve turned it into something ugly…

Paint me again
the poor boy that I am;
laugh at me
and pour me a drink.


All in one Sentence
if you please.

All in one motion…

Emotions have brought me
from here—

—to there.


Like reliving every
eventful stare.

Was it you or I
who cared?


I seem to forget…

Thank me again,
and receive your tip.

I think we’re similar enough,
after all,
we’re cut from the same fluff.

And knowing that is—

Far—

Too—


Much.
*(rough)
Jurtin Albine Aug 2016
(Invitation and Intervention)

A man looks back and reflects on any place he could have been,
while knowing time will sweep us all away eventually.

This isn’t a *home,

This is only temporary.

Anyone ever could have been at odds with everything that ever existed,
but for one night be so lost in thought that they forgot what ever was.

And by tomorrow
a change devoured the marrow,
as they find that it all was
and never what they thought in,
but out.

While the screaming world comes about,
and I break forth into that odd place
where every face comes inside,
and I feel like a ghost
who’s felt the surface like braille,
and read the book of the softly lit place
where people come out to have another taste,
and celebrate the fact
that they’re still on this world.


And so the old man puts on his coat,
and walks away when they please it…

But I'm sure that’s not the way he see’s it.
Jurtin Albine Aug 2016
(A Slight Tug)

Sweeter than poison rain
down my storm drain.

More graceful than a passing dove
landing in a frozen frame
on the branch of a family tree.

More belonging than me…

Information gathers at the tips of wits.

A type of rope by a blamed name
and the street starts and parts the same.

I read myself in a remembrance.

I watch the time to forget this,
but the time doesn't forget me.

It knows the keys I played in reality.

It hears the depths of misunderstanding,
and smiles…

If it could...

If only it wasn't made out of that *******
wood.

A branch breaks in the forest.

It doesn't care if a human's around to hear it's sound.

It's saplings whisper on the wind.

It cries forever having to begin
being born all over again.

A lover slips into a questioned bed.

A send off by any choice
could make me feel quite sick.

It wasn't the petrol that glossed the nerves...

It was the flesh of the skin.

I marked a remark before it knew it wasn't going to begin
and passed up my opportunity for a distraction that leaves me (alone).

A gift goes ungiven,
but not to a friend,
and as coy as a mouse,
it doesn't forget to say thanks.

Thanks.
Thanks?
Thanks…?

Thanks For what?


I'm grated and fried
all within a why?

And I await,

Frayed,

for the final reply...
Jurtin Albine Aug 2016
Sipping inebriation to pass the time.

Desires of an almost,
but not quite,
criminal mind…

A mind of mine.

Thinking and thought out,
like the smoke screen that was blown about
by the atmosphere as it lifted off.

Finally a completed thought,
and it’s too late…

It’s stopped,
or not.

My mind returns to me in a song
that only I can sing along to.

Out of tune to you,
but in line with mine
and everything we all do.

I’ll sit while long ago should have been cut off takes my spot.

An engine turned on
leaves me to believe I’ve done wrong.

A thinking woman figures it out
and returns to remind me…

I’m a shell in my own personal hell
and everyone else knows better.

Remove a sweater
and lose the winter skin,
or hold onto and be tormented forever
in a city where if you know no one
you don’t know me,
and get lost in a world of infinite impossibilities,
and let the warmth surround me,
and breath the clean air…

The air where The Glitter Man
and I both agree.

And forever be *free.
Jurtin Albine Aug 2016
We will be together when the day is done,
but here is where stars and skies and purple lies.

I went away in ill due time
on a fault that isn’t even mine,
but a blackened moons
who wrecked the way
for others after…

Here is where you find the lie...

She said it to just be nice.

It was me all along,
I was the broken arm
in the restless sling…

I’m the unimportant thing
to be despised of,
or left to be carried away by
maggots and flies,
so her hands
can paint my face full of goodbyes.

But it's not like this do I tell of fate.

It’s only in writing do I commiserate
and once again begin to feel…

*Is it her?
Can this be real?!

(silence)
Next page