Quinn

Quinn Oct 2013

It was a dance of allure, pure like sugar cane,
And each step was ****** to begin with.
Jazz roared wild through our hearts,
Strumming on our bass notes.
Each bitter sweet note was tender and painless.
The rough jazz singer called out into the night,
The band played and stars sung out in all their elegance
And we danced
And danced.
The music died low
And the stars hummed softly to the night.
There was a temptation in the satin thump of a bass
As our hearts strummed together.
Then a string broke,
The band stopped,
The room dimmed,
The stars wept,
The polished brass of the trumpets became rusty and blackend,
The singer melted away into shadows,
And the room was now simply old and abandoned.
And this was my new truth.

Quinn Oct 2013

We are the wild strawberries

Wild strawberries in august heat
With a bitter taste and frail being
Only plucked and tasted by the curious
Native to gardens and lawns
Growing rampant in the grass
Domesticated to no one
Free

Quinn Sep 2013

Crashing through my head

I can see you crashing through my head
Although I know our love is dead
Cast into the sea with all my heart
When you said goodbye with a poison dart
That killed me on the spot
While you ran away with the lot
It makes me sick everytime
Because you made me feel so sublime
Was our love so cheap to you
That you thought another girl was due?
Well know now our love is dead
As you go crashing through my head

I just realize how tacky rhyming is

Quinn Sep 2013

Day dream Symphony No. 1

Oh what it would be like
To play your ribs like a piano,
Run my hands over the smooth ivory that is your skin,
To trace long the curve of your spine,
Draw all the little bumps with my finger,
To trail kisses along your jaw line,
And to lay claim to every bit of you
With every little bit of me.

Quinn Sep 2013

Pinpricks

There is a cool breeze in my bone
The inky night closes in
The wolves curse in the blackness
With their wordsless whispers
That settle in my bones like winter"s warmth
The wovles groan and whimper to the dead moon
With her pale sunken face
She calms the world with white
And all is silent
Except for the tiny pinpricks
Who speeak volumes
But can only be heard by few
The escape of the light is effortless
As the breeze blows them away
And a single pinprick remains
Then that too is silenced

So for this idea all credit goes to my good friend Andrew. It was his "pinpricks in the inky blackness" that got me in a poetically inclined mood.

Quinn Sep 2013

Blue

Cold blankets cover blue toes
Heavy hearts sleep soundly in a sagging bending bed
Pale eye lids do not stir, do not flutter
A withered face is still,
Wrinkles stiff
Crooked hands folded over a cold crooked heart
A flat, deflated chest is sunken in and hollow
Snow nipped lips pressed in a soft curve for eternity

Quinn Sep 2013

I feel,

As still as snow
As cold as silence
As brilliant as lovers
As blind as the Reaper
As endless as depression
As periless as the ocean
As selfish as life
As dead as common sense
As deadly as passion
As warm as blood
As empty as a promise
As comforting as smoke
As nessicary as the end
As lovely as the dark
As ferocious as love
As sick as reality
As wicked as happiness
As false as god
As pointless as liberty
As tall as feeling
As cruel as fate
As lonely as the wind
As twisted as a book
As heartbreaking as the future
As true as a compass
As sweet as wild flowers
As somber as the stars
As sad as thunder
As soft as freshly cut grass
As quiet as blue
As vivid as a stupid wish
As compassionate as a rock
I feel the world inside me
And its weight on my shoulders