Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2017
you have to get in through this tunnel hole
you have to get down on your hands
and knees.
it feels like a mausoleum
at first.

you don’t need a key,
we can get in for free.
don’t worry, when you’re with me
ain’t no such thing as currency.

on second thought I might never leave.
we can swing and twist on long rope trees
and sing all happy merrily
and breathe in the bees
that pollinate your teeth.

there are crystal geysers
that pour on our heads and long ship trains
that ship us to bed but when we lay,
the lights turned off still feel like they’re on
and you can never hear the ringing of the
smoke alarm
since nothing bad could ever happen
when we are all wrapped up cocooned
in piles of morning dew.
been saving this one for you.

do you think you can hear me in these
soundproof rooms?
there is something that I really must tell you.



in all the million years we’ve been alive
I never thought someone like you
would be my size,
so I’ll take you back to my house
and we can jump on the bed.

we’ll read the entire library in one night,
go 4,000 years without one single fight,
not scuffle / abuse Great Jellyfish sight
embellished by the fishermen’s spite.

we can adventure down creations of white
snowfalls created from Memory Bank Kite,
rollerskate along each other’s dendrites,
dispose of antique and rusted searchlights,
and gaze at Our Planet on obtuse satellites.

we go deeper down
with bottles of our secrets lit aflame
that illuminate all the cosmic scenery with
a feeling I can’t see you but I know
you’re there and I can feel you staring
at the lush willow branches with me
atop the stardust glistening green
like your eyes when you look right at me
and I can see them when you stare at other things
like the valley deep, as deep as the sea.

you can insult yourself,
but when you’re in my house, I’m sure you’ll find
you can forget all about the other side.
and at the break of day,
we won’t even notice the sky changing or
the tectonic shifts that uncover even more
avenues for us to descend
because we can create what we want
when our bodies begin to reveal to our brains
that the greatest gift alive doesn’t lie in the stains
of the past we have passed all of that now,
not able to tell if we are land our clouds
and the feeling I get in my throat is so
good.

in this tunnel of ambient rays
the collection of resilience grows.
Oh my Darling, how I love you so.
christopher kathy
Written by
christopher kathy  23/New Jersey
(23/New Jersey)   
204
   Madeon
Please log in to view and add comments on poems