Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Laokos 7d
just thinking back
           on
my twenties and cracking
           a
smile for every tree I hollowed
           out
to make room for a new universe.


now,
in my thirties, I laugh at windows
           stacked
on top of Mercury's head as
           Venus covers her mouth and hides again.
In through one ear
Out the other
I'm not talking about sounds
I'm talking about flies
And they're so loud
Megan Sep 30
Hidden in the center
Whole black flies
Their trembles linger
Until I cry
Mark Parker Sep 7
Apollo’s chariot rests
below the horizon’s layers
yellow, pink, and blue.
Breathing in the sunset,
night’s chill takes the air
with chirping crickets
hooting owls
and starlike fire flies.
Nature stuns me on a regular basis.
As an arrow flies throughout the sky,
it remembers its journey.
How it was
crafted,
Stored,
readied,
and launched.
He remembers the days where all he did was sit and think,
where he wished to be free.
Now that he is free he realizes that all is not how he dreamed.
He was heading towards a target,
one that he did not ever dream about.
He was going too fast.
All he cared for was life as it was,
but now as he flies through the sky,
breaking the air,
he realizes he wasn’t ready.
Tom Waiting Jul 17
After John Prine:
“There's flies in the kitchen,
I can hear 'em there buzzing,
And I ain't done nothing since I woke up today”


Mr. John Prine

                       <£>

There's flies in the kitchen,
all around my eyes and head,
they’re just gossiping bout me,
why most mornings
I’m still laying in bed
at almost near
noon-time, why too, them
angels and their a-fluttering wings,
a-flapping, still hanging around,
when they’re so far from home

truth be told, I kinda like new combinations,
the musical vibes, magic incantations,
boogie woogie, fuzzy buzzy eyelash sounds,
bluesy background harmonies against the
harps them angel wings are playing,
I’m getting every note writ down so,

I can play it well on the morrow, on my
following them higher up, all the ways up
on that glowing shining stairway to heaven,
guarantee-****-teeing entrance through the
pearly gates for the flies and a lazy, no-account
worthless S.O.B. like me
J J Jun 17
I left some dead fruit
  By the window ledge
In the hopes fruitflies
Would sprout and break free

  their torrid wings from the grapevine roots.

Instead, all I got was a smelly room

And grapes that hissed dissapointedly
As they crackled inward in the background
(rotting flesh now too heavy
to carry on stiffupperlipped).

How sunny it is outside. How much

  Sunnier the weatherman says it'll be
tomorrow. Atleast, I think with my last thought
Of the day,

Atleast I'll remember to get fresh fruit tomorrow.
Paul Jun 11
A clutch of orchids, three days
in the vase, with bent-stems,
drop their pollens onto a tabletop,
across which a blade sunlight
cuts brightly into shadow.
And by the vase a craze of tiny flies
hovers, like a troubled thought,
above a wasting apple.
impermanence
Do not show me your tears
Diamond are your tears
If I have a case
Surely I will gather in cases

Do not blame yours
We are not responsible for fate
And the time will moderate

Do not let your tears
Down
As my wind fellows
So will do all members

The rainbow appears at your face
Gathering different colors
Closing all blossoms
The sun flies
As she says
There will not two suns
In the same place
when the the lovely woman cries all the world gets sad . the life became different and the sadness control the acts
The echos are burning through the valley at dawn.
The voices are muffled but seep out through the calm.
They are asking for forgiveness they beg for a change.
They wonder if we will take them from the weight of the blame.

Who are you deceivers, from where do you hail?
Why did your creator build you to fail?

The voices speak of rebellion that creeps in the night.
Who will bound through the darkness and burst in to the light.
The bringers of disease, talkers of fame.
They beat us to submission in the dirt of the plains.

The savages you are that hail from the earth.
Created form dust, molded in dirt.

The master speaks of the bridges he's burnt from the streams.
Ignited by torches who were ripped from the trees.
The builder of fires, the polluter of dreams.
The layers of waste are bursting from the seams.

Retreat to the darkness, and be banished from earth.
Leave it all in vain, your birth was a curse.

The moon returns again rising through the sky in the night.
Reflecting its azure light in to the eyes of the flies in flight.
Take us now to shelter, remove us from this vice.
On the painful journey away from this sacrifice.
Next page