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The ebb and flow
of a mind which knows it is in flux
yet also belongs to that unchanging one
whose breath animates us.

I fall into unconscious shuddering
with desperation and mute wonder
and hidden hopes and silent screams

I recognize what's become fixed within me.
Lost progress, traumatic laughter.
The Apotheon is calling

once again, I'm stone cold
but don't want to be sober. I try so hard
to get over myself, my loneliness.
I got all this poison, and I don't want to share.

I'm losing my time on earth
to the gods of the underworld.
I turn around and see Orpheus
following me
before vanishing
John McCafferty Dec 2020
Done are the days of May
You could say we moved on
Spent into early retirement
As raw breaths fade away
All there is is change

The importance of a moment
Instilled inside this frame
To have and to hold in exchange
Consumed to idle eyes
A gift for you and I

The view of which describes
Is fleeting if you let it pass by
Who you are and what to do
Escapism clasps many masks
Only shown to grace the task of life
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
John McCafferty Nov 2020
Emotions tend to turn the tide
Our thoughts and dreams are magnified
Into just a single life

Priorities are often rushed
Once committed hard to stop
Foresight is incongruous

As the route to pass multiplies
Such pressures placed upon our kind
Consumed inside collective minds
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
John Darnielle Nov 2020
It's not the barnacles that do all the damage
Figure this out too late
It's not the destination that makes the difference
It's the freight

Everything becomes a blur from six feet away
Get used to this
Every card ever turned over remains in play
Get used to this

Not every wave is a tidal wave
Not every wave is a tidal wave

It's not the mutiny written down in the diary
It's the manifest
Forgotten cargo in obsolete measurements
Anybody's guess

Even the proud, even the very proud
Probably die on their knees
Twin masts out on the open seas
Mistaken for trees

Not every wave is a tidal wave
Not every wave is a tidal wave
this song may or may not be titled after the Magic: the Gathering card
John Darnielle Nov 2020
We sail we sleep we scry by land
We dig a pit beneath the sand
A place to keep the sun at bay
At dark we rise and find our way

With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide

The land we left becomes a dream
The ghosts we knew, they rise like steam
They leave some trails against the sky
All but invisible to the eye

With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide

Call off the search party,
Let mourners wail by the shore

Point to the spot where our ship disappeared
We're not coming home any more

Should you succeed and breach the coast
You tell your friends you've seen a ghost
You tell them all there's nothing here worth dying for
You leave it there

With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide
song from the new album, Getting into Knives
we were so into each other's lives,
not minding anyone at all.
Serendipity Jun 2020
Freedom
is the feeling you get
when you breathe your first breath
and your ribs
no longer
press into
the floor.
onlylovepoetry Jun 2020
dear god, you humble me into quietude

she says itโ€™s sunny and 75
nearing 3โ€™oโ€™clock, cooling,
letโ€™s go for our usual constitutional,
for a lovely afternoon walk to Shell Beach

canโ€™t canโ€™t canโ€™t walking now in
a bottomless pit, every handhold,
poems, newly commissioned, newborn,
broken off the wall, revealing a gleaming,
light of iron pyrite, really good foolโ€™s gold,
cause only fools write good poetry, or even try


but tonight Iโ€™m gonna feed you bucatini bolognese
babe, you gotta walk, make some room for all the words
that will come tumbling free falling while Iโ€™m sleeping next,
youโ€™re up prowling looking for rhymes, lines, unheard of before,
youโ€™ll need energy to bite, write, and make loving poetry and then,
then, sleep late, my laddie-baddie, new ones on my nightstand,
for my perusal, my usual unusual man who gifts me them to
in quantities of โ€˜more galore,โ€™ that I accept, adore...adore

so afterwards, I must say my morning prayer, as an atheist forgiven,
the one I commissioned, and you composed, for me:

Dear God: you humble me into quietude, with gratitude...
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