Megan 2h

Tell me now how this is the last of it,
how the birds will burn the nests
in preparation for the apocalypse, and
tell me how you could see it coming
because the cows were lying down.

Lie to me because facing the truth
means burning the nest
and I'm not ready for that yet;
I'm still being fed from your mouth
and you're still telling me
that there are months and months
before the happy-end-of-the-world.

Maybe I believe you
because only you can hurt me like this;
only you can hold me crucified
and make me thank you for the blood.

It's you, again, the new you
the cuckoo you
in my nest, burning my nest
I hate you stop burning everything get out of my skin I'm telling you there really isn't treasure hidden in there please stop digging and

breathe.

Even if I'm breathing in smoke
I'm still not letting you kill me,
I'm adamant that I won't let you
ruin me like you love to do;
because you're not the bird - you're the fire
and I'm still thinking that I'm the nest
but I'm too high up in
a tree made of dry wood
for you to reach me
                                                              ­      yet.

When you come
I'll let you in.

A 1d

I see a broken sky,
Painted in black,
And all the birds,
They'll drown,
Drown in their sorrow.

And even when they call out,
Screaming for a new day,
A new place,
No one will answer.

Because the gods will all have left,
For a less shattered place,
One whole and new and there.

I see a broken sky,
Painted in black,
And all the birds,
They'll drown,
Drown in their sorrow.

And all the flowers,
They'll wither,
Wither from the force of the darkness that
Will forever bind them.

And I see those broken skies,
Shattering away,
The climax arising.

And the painted sky,
An alabaster illusion,
Will implode,
And their stardust will be spread.

And when that mirage has faded,
Everything will be new,
And whole,
And pure.

And then the world could breathe,
For the pain had faded.

Soiled, cold homeless man–
The pigeons are the only ones
not judging him

A blackbird singing
sellotape over this heart
pitter-patter-pitt..

Mars 4d

Cursing the birds
Only serves to make more noise
A smile and a nod
Are worth their weight in words

Simple silence
Is my priceless choice

There is more
than what can be said
A punch in the teeth
turns your gold back into lead

Priceless silence
Is my simple choice

Tatiana 4d

The paths through forests are covered in leaves
that crumple loudly beneath my feet.
Wind makes those that still cling to the trees,
shiver with a subtle musicality.

The paths wind around homes of the birds,
who ruffle their feathers and always chirp.
But danger creates a silence to endure,
Ignorance leads to being interred.

The paths lead to a mumbling brook
rocks part the waters where they were put.
And they move loudly beneath my foot,
pressure forcing sounds and I shook.

The paths loop around and attach
the sounds jar together like a scratch
of a record that suffered a sudden impact.
I cover my ears and try not to react.

The paths are suffering from this dissonance
my ears are damaged and blistering.
Why is the music of nature distancing
from me, can it be I'm just not listening?

© Tatiana
A bunch of near rhymes and too many thoughts

You said you wanted these eyes in your sights for the rest of your life
You want the heart and soul of me but you deny the whole of me
You forgot about my wings
Those hulking, iridescent things
They sit on my shoulder blades and long for the skies
Even I migrate to warmer climes where I might find my piece of mind.
Out of the two of us, I find it is I who follows the teachings of Christ
Of love for all, and forgiveness too
But I also follow ipheginia, boudicca, Joan of ark and any other woman who had her spark quenched by a man
I know you did not mean to rein me in
Your fear was your scalpel, and you clipped my wings
I know now why the caged bird sings
And I know why the house bird hisses when you bring him food
He longs for the open skies
Doesn't care what lies beyond the curtain
And if in the end he dies, at least it'll be on his own terms.
You didn't inflict a cage on me
I tore those wings from seam to seam
Thinking that wanting you should be enough for me
That wanting anything more was heresy
You made me think a part of me was broken.
That it was selfish to fly south for winter,
Even if I'd die in the cold.
You always used to shout at the birds when they sang too loud,
And I wonder how I didn't know before.
You said you wanted these eyes in your sights for the rest of your life
But if we did that
We'd never be apart.

This is another poem about controlling relationships, and how often it's a fear of disappointing the other person that motivates people to perpetuate their own lack of control.
Angela Rose Nov 8

I want to write about the sunset, how the rays hit the ocean and it was so beautiful that I could almost shed a tear
But all that I can write about is how handsome you looked with your back to me as you stared at that same exact sunset
And all I can write about is how much I loved you at that exact moment and the sun could have fallen down and I probably would not have noticed

I want to write about how melancholy the rainstorms make me and how I get so lonely and depressed each and every time the sky cries
But all I can write about is how your eyes are the same exact color as the night sky right before a rain storm in the middle of July
And all I can write about is even when the sky was having a mental breakdown full of rain all I could think about was how content I was being wrapped in your embrace

I want to write about how genuinely happy and bright I feel once the Birds of Paradise start to bloom in the spring
But all I can write about is how they are the flower I could see from the porch swing at my mother's house where we talked about our future children
And all I can write about is how much I miss talking to you at four in the morning when the rest of the world was asleep, everyone except for us and those Birds of Paradise

I want to write about nature and beauty and the weather and happiness and I don't want to keep writing about you
But it's you.
It's never anyone or anything else, but you

Eliah SolRae Nov 7

We were told to get in line, a somber black line.
A line that snaked on. It was a snake that ate time.
All around is foreign tongue,
Behind me someone sang…

I am pinched, prodded, and shouted at
I try to explain, I am pinned with papers of foreign tongue.
Finally I get my stamp, it to much I leave…

I climb into a booth,
Above is a beautiful balloon.
The booth sprouts wings and floats up.

I float over the beautiful city,
Over the two men grasping hands.
I float through time and space, to a new place

I Arrive
The tongue is harsher, the accent stronger.
It is asif I am a man on an alien planet.
I look for help, a room to stay.

A friendly face a helping hand guides the way.
When I arrive a new animal jumps out,
I jump.

I get a room,
I open my trunk and pull out the picture of us three,
You our daughter and me. I think about you every day.

I look up and see birds,
origami birds...
I climb in bed and fall into a deep sleep.

In the morning I wake and see one,
of the creatures, I jump, it jumps.
And scurries out the window, into the arrival.

I travel the city and look,
I bought a map, it was as clear as code.
I was in a crowd, it winded to and fro, it flowed.

I climbed on a float boat,
And met a young lady, of my tongue,
Of the land of the dragon tails…

She told me a story,
Her story…
It all started one day with a forbidden book.

This part II of the arrival, based on the book by Shaun Tan

birds of the same disposition
all gathering in a collective band
one feather is their rendition

they'll always be of this strand
never deviating at anytime
all gathering in a collective band

everyone of them an akin dime
minted by the exacting coin press
never deviating at anytime

they're keeping a single address
companions of an only kind  
minted by the exacting coin press

none are really hard to find
assembling neath a unified wing
companions of an only kind

can you hear the old adage sing
assembling neath a unified wing
birds of the same disposition
one feather is their rendition

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