Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
GeekElementPoems
we call these stars. white strips of clarity bursting through pinpricks spotlights through feather falling dandruff thunder buckles the plexiglass sheet with it's shoulder crackles little eggshell triangles past the dancing dandruff pale veins spread like ink in fabric thin burnt parchment holding back thudding pulses from the Amniotic sun We call this a sunrise when the Sun hurls the final flaming shoulder into day. Not the giggling gums of a baby faced Tele-tubby sun not the serenade of "goodnight moon, and goodnight you" My sunrise is A dragon-glass egg, pulsing to the drumbeat of a feathered heart A tea-light spider spinning webs into an inferno shoulder flexing flamesilk muscles through each pinprick star lamp posts hum a prismatic prayer Grassy fields catch light with their fireflies old country porch lights attract moths dust hung in stasis starts feather falling when light catches tubes of Mercury fashioned into bar-signs flicker as ghosts hum on the gas poets flick cigarette ashes call in stardust for the wind to carry up to Gatsby it up in the pin ****** there is nothing more beautiful and warm then stardust Dancing rich in the suns desperate pinpricks Watching the Debut of struggling birth throwing itself against confinement shedding light, on the tiniest flurry of dandruff before filling each vein of the broken sky with fire. I love to watch gasoline soaked parchment curl in on itself like an old handwritten letter. I call this the night sky. Catch the falling ashes on my tongue like snowflakes. If I swallow enough of them a tiny pheonix fire in my belly can hurl it's little shoulder against my rib cage. Pounding until it bursts out through all these pinpricks. I will call out to the mothsdust, dandruff and fireflies invite them to dance in the combustion. If I am anything like a starlit night. I will buckle before I burst Thunderclap an invitation Shatter the street lamps and mercury tubes with the winding bass drop. direct the audiences attention to dust hung gentle in a cold still sky. feather falling in silence A blossoming caged sun. No one expects a gentle sunrise
0
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
Caged Sun
we call these stars. white strips of clarity bursting through pinpricks spotlights through feather falling dandruff thunder buckles the plexiglass sheet with it's shoulder crackles little eggshell triangles past the dancing dandruff pale veins spread like ink in fabric thin burnt parchment holding back thudding pulses from the Amniotic sun We call this a sunrise when the Sun hurls the final flaming shoulder into day. Not the giggling gums of a baby faced Tele-tubby sun not the serenade of "goodnight moon, and goodnight you" My sunrise is A dragon-glass egg, pulsing to the drumbeat of a feathered heart A tea-light spider spinning webs into an inferno shoulder flexing flamesilk muscles through each pinprick star lamp posts hum a prismatic prayer Grassy fields catch light with their fireflies old country porch lights attract moths dust hung in stasis starts feather falling when light catches tubes of Mercury fashioned into bar-signs flicker as ghosts hum on the gas poets flick cigarette ashes call in stardust for the wind to carry up to Gatsby it up in the pin ****** there is nothing more beautiful and warm then stardust Dancing rich in the suns desperate pinpricks Watching the Debut of struggling birth throwing itself against confinement shedding light, on the tiniest flurry of dandruff before filling each vein of the broken sky with fire. I love to watch gasoline soaked parchment curl in on itself like an old handwritten letter. I call this the night sky. Catch the falling ashes on my tongue like snowflakes. If I swallow enough of them a tiny pheonix fire in my belly can hurl it's little shoulder against my rib cage. Pounding until it bursts out through all these pinpricks. I will call out to the mothsdust, dandruff and fireflies invite them to dance in the combustion. If I am anything like a starlit night. I will buckle before I burst Thunderclap an invitation Shatter the street lamps and mercury tubes with the winding bass drop. direct the audiences attention to dust hung gentle in a cold still sky. feather falling in silence A blossoming caged sun. No one expects a gentle sunrise
#sun#black#sky#night#buckle
GeekElement
Written by
GeekElement
25/M
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem