Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
alexandra-7Poems
Harmonic suspension, first-chair, and gold This is the sound of the end of the world Sweaters of steel-wool and spring revolutions The strings in the weave are beginning to loosen This is the sound of the end of the world Too late to be evening, time uncontrolled The strings in the weave are beginning to loosen He lies in the bed, skin becoming translucent Too late to be evening, time uncontrolled Dark rising deeply, sleepless, and cold He lies in the bed, skin becoming translucent Throat full of something too thick in the moment Dark rising deeply, sleepless, and cold Skin stretched too tight on his hopeful skull Throat full of something too thick in the moment He watches twin sunrises bobble like ornaments Skin stretched too tight on his hopeful skull The blue on the Earth has become its own pulse He watches twin sunrises bobble like ornaments Caught in the gravity of something immense The blue on the Earth has become its own pulse Gradient gray like the ***** of sweet candles Caught in the gravity of something immense He pays tribute to God in his newspaper tent
0
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
B-Side
Harmonic suspension, first-chair, and gold This is the sound of the end of the world Sweaters of steel-wool and spring revolutions The strings in the weave are beginning to loosen This is the sound of the end of the world Too late to be evening, time uncontrolled The strings in the weave are beginning to loosen He lies in the bed, skin becoming translucent Too late to be evening, time uncontrolled Dark rising deeply, sleepless, and cold He lies in the bed, skin becoming translucent Throat full of something too thick in the moment Dark rising deeply, sleepless, and cold Skin stretched too tight on his hopeful skull Throat full of something too thick in the moment He watches twin sunrises bobble like ornaments Skin stretched too tight on his hopeful skull The blue on the Earth has become its own pulse He watches twin sunrises bobble like ornaments Caught in the gravity of something immense The blue on the Earth has become its own pulse Gradient gray like the ***** of sweet candles Caught in the gravity of something immense He pays tribute to God in his newspaper tent
For AP Lit.
alexandra-7
Written by
alexandra-7
American
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem