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Eve 1d
sing me a lullaby, Mr. Piano Man
you've been so quiet tonight
the bar's all empty, except for me
are you sure you're feeling alright?

now's no time for tonic and gin
i know you're afraid to feel again
oh, remember the roar of the piano!
but now you hardly brush the keys...
it's a love story for the bleeding
and there's a place in your mind
where you'd rather be

oh serenade your empty heart
focus on the beat
i know it's hard sometimes
but you will find your melody

and i know you hear me plea,
"Mr. Piano Man, play the one
that your heart plays
when you're anywhere but at your best."

so sing me a lullaby, Mr. Piano Man
you've been so quiet tonight
and i'm all out of memories
are you sure you're feeling alright?
roughly to the tune of "Piano Man" by Billy Joel
Eve Mar 21
(still trying to pen you into existence)
Collaboration's implicit excitations explicate expectations
Unity's myriad augurs geomancy's indications
Demagoguery's ostensibly intuitive impetus coordinations
Extravagantly exorbitant panaceas appreciate exaggerations

Prolifically profuse profundity's autonomous gestations
Empirically emulate epistemology's exogamous creations
Intrigue's imperative promulgation's quantum fecundations  
Fealty's ephemeral enunciation's explicit complications

Hypercritically exponential prophylaxis protocol's interpretations
Sacrosanct unary's preternatural predilection's extrications
Eventuation's evocative illuminism avant garde's ostentations
Corrupt costume counselor's indicative explications

Assimilation's synthetic synthesis' ascensional implications
Ominous phenomenon portrayal detinue's integrations
Umbral ultraism's penumbral platitude's objectifications
Futurity's spontaneous flamboyance's apotropaic expiations
Annex annul, implicite implement implicate!!!
Malia Nov 2024
A noisy impatient fly
Humming by my ear like the fluorescent light overhead
Near imperceptible, but in the silence, grating
As it sung out, buzz, buzz, buzz, out of itself,
Always droning, never a pause in the incessant
Static.

And you, O my soul, where you sit,
Trapped in a cocoon of web, never quite alone
But immovably stagnant, perhaps once learning, chasing, dancing, Seeking that elusive something,
Till exhausted by the endless journey, only ever wishing
For a home
That you never found, but barely existing you continue, O my soul.
A Noiseless Patient Spider by Walt Whitman:

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect
them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
MetaVerse Jul 2024
There once was a man from Nantucket
          Named Pym:
          That one lim
          Eric?k is about him.
                                                   **** it!


Carlo C Gomez Jan 2024
~
I. Fog Glossaries
'Echoes don't tell lies,'
but inclement weather so often does.
look!
between whales and feverish thought,
between their sparkle and debris,
what is brewing systematically,
right under the surface,
might be terrifying.
or it might not.

II. The Cruxifiers
Time and life are machines that manufacture doom,
their sparkle and debris calculatingly withheld,
like keyholes to dark rooms that they
—in their reserved attack—never let you into.

III. Oceano Dunes
Bedouin princess—Charis Wilson tumbling
with Edward in the sand
—a photo finish.
—a young woman's triumph.
—a naked gift wrapped in sparkle and debris.

IV. Jellyfish Are Murderers
Here's a hint,
needle mark refineries are back,
expanding and contracting
in Baltic Sea,
in sparkle and debris,
smack after smack,
umbrella bell stings send
another pearl necklace
of dreams to its grave.

V. Container Ships
Substance A covers the outside hull,
Substance B is leaking from everyone's ears,
still the captain smiles, sailing straight ahead, ignoring the crew
as they turn into sparkle and debris.

VI. Mouth Guards of the Apocalypse
No one on the submarine is listening,
scopes up, spirits down,
current position unknown,
longer commutes, shorter lives
recede the fear of sparkle and debris,
by hiding out in the guest rooms,
waiting for a messiah drink
or perhaps a palindrome:
'never odd or even
no lemon, no melon.'
It's all so sour to the teeth and gums
of Armageddon's kids...

VII. Womenfish
Lost girls drive rental cars, change identities at rest stops. They shuffle down an otherwise sunny street beneath their own personal raincloud, shivering in an oversized coat. They imagine they're a parable stretched over the sea and not just mere sparkle and debris.

VIII. A Mother’s Book of Hours
At home and in her head
the roots get tangled,
so she storyboards each morning.
the lathe of heaven
must be Morse code
for death of romance.
she hears silent music
as her children sleep,
as whales sing off the coast,
they share their blood,
they share sparkle and debris.
there's a sweet little lie
baking in the oven,
she doesn’t want to talk about it.
she wishes her dreams were longer
and catches an interested eye
at the dream window,
her hands surrendering
their attempt to conceal,
naked is her perfect disguise,
you can hear her repeatedly asking,
“Who have I lived for?”

IX. The Pavilion of Dreams
How often I dream water,
some are lakes and seas,
others Olympic-sized pools,
each a self-portrait,
holding fast to the resurrections unseen,
to the digitally etiolated detail of the comedown,
every chimera ending
with my mind floating
just beneath the surface with all
the other sparkle and debris.
~
'Echoes Don't Tell Lies' is a borrowed line from the title of Neville Pettitt's new book of poetry.
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4791671/echoes-dont-tell-lies/
David Hilburn Aug 2023
Since meaning you
A tool of wishes that never was
Mercy me, and the tone of a voice, with should...
The times are a glittering star, that knew ourselves thus

Shape of things to come:
Hap is such a worldly ply, of a hosts among
Sense is mine, that could, a reprimand in heat and one
Same to you, after such an introduction, are we going long?

Share the bite of distance, the tale to tell
Is heed, a speed with special eyes?
If nowhere has a call to air, the littlest bit of well...
A hard swallow of persuasion, a solace with moments of pride

Sacred? or the stir of person's in the name
Of cope, the tooth to display a better tongue
Which for a seldom used word, is the better of a cares fame
Caught in the now, and lost in the voice of eaves, wronged?

History
And the calling of a world to the simplest of so's
Looking a sanity, with a single idea, a query
Of what was the cold shoulder of a smile, that came to woes?

And found me, in the turn of chaste into sweeter pasts
Time to remember the court, of decision we made
An aging hope, to live longer by the need, which asks
Is it time to dance again, like a prettier sorts said...
Welcome home honey, timidity has chosen us to share a miracle's kiss, with a pretty silence...
David Hilburn Mar 2023
The thrill of the chase...
A chaste example, to acquire a hill
Meant in dole and measure, the evening pace
Of a risen question, which has nerves to chill

Heat is a wavering sense of redoubt
Sent by accept and due a looking herald
Find a shadow of differ, with a comparison's pout
Share and weal to endow, a question of waiting held?

Maybe, a light has a wealth we can have?
Said to bared and curious, superiority
Will a stranger deed in the presence of need, pass?
Asking for the so, a mutual live to do, is am affinity?

Character is a reigning hope, to understate a gift?
Soul to deified how, in a calling to wryed eyes
When we are the eyes of rightness, risen of airs to lift
A season of justness, with a moment assuring silence...

Is the goal of sincerity...
Is the given of simplicity...
Is the god of serendipity...
Is the gesture of sakes city...

Who?
And the hill, of reason taken to reality
Of visions fortitude, a ply of when sense is too soon
Will we become like ourselves, at the sight of future integrity?
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