Cam 7d

You can leave wires alone, hidden away
and they still get tangled, tied up in knots,
twisted around in angry coils, like a pit-full
of leathery snakes.  Everything appears to work still fine

and it looks nice and shiny, like it always did.
Dusted off every week. Our visitors admire it,
and family don’t notice it anymore.
It’s part of the furniture, there every day;

useful and pleasurable though it is, in its way,
if it broke, it would be replaced. So why,
though untouched in anyway
are the wires in such a state?

So, moving the furniture, you try
and release them. You try and follow the trail,
from where they used to run straight and true,
to where they now entwine and choke

each other with their tiny knotted fists of flex.
And you think this is beyond the laws of physics,
That an inanimate object can come alive
With such malevolence.


You look for explanation, such as
spectral interference or evil black-eyed
midnight fairies with sharp pin-teeth,
who, in glinting moonlight, spin and prance,

Whirling the wires around, as if in some frenzied pagan dance.
Rather, though, (and you know) it’s the small
unseen twists of time that, uncorrected in neglect,
have snared the wires in their own catch net.

However did it come to this? I ask her,
and she looks at me, as if
I shouldn’t be surprised. For so
it happens every time.

How and why do untouched wires entangle themselves?  It's so frustrating!
Timothy hill Apr 9

You lay at the hem of dirt.

Decaying rot and smells have begone for century's.

Vampire haven and alter high grade of appeal.

Worm's jump as bird''s approach.

He he, you will not succeed for we are specialy made and protect by our creator so hi.

The birds perch of the dead bark growing amber.

Whistling as his friend, path is full of head lights as night tilt's on-wards!

Last second, from those berry on the lawn of his favorite landing.

They were laced with dmt too seed his constuct.



Before words his movement where advancement of a plain

Dark with a twist.
Timothy hill Apr 9

You lay at the hem of dirt.

Decaying rot and smells have begone for century's.

Vampire haven and alter high grade of appeal.

Worm's jump as bird''s approach.

He he, you will not succeed for we are specialy made and protect by our creator so hi.

The birds perch of the dead bark growing amber.

Whistling as his friend, path is full of head lights as night tilt's on-wards!

Last second, from those berry on the lawn of his favorite landing.

They were laced with dmt too seed his constuct.



Before words his movement where advancement of a plain

Dark with a twist.
Apollo Hayden Mar 28

I was right behind that mountain,
now I'm just above its peak,
able to see things for what they truly are and not how I wanted them to be.
In hindsight the sun has shined its light on life's mysteries.
Out of the darkness we must rise; with resilience we will shine.

Rutendo Mar 19

My life is mystery
A question that wants to remain unanswered
If l find the answer life changes the question
Life is PAIN

i wonder if l will uncover something someday
Letahbo-lee Feb 15

He is
a slow laborious
poem...
And I read it
every night!

Year of the hottest tempers, for sure.

Along with the highest temper-a-tures.

Mere coincidence, the Learned will say;

While others regard the signs of the day.

The missing piece of this mystery’s math

Lies in the two-fold nature of wrath.

Julie Grenness Dec 2016

Do you want a small mystery?
Should I make the postman history?
What is in that letterbox?
Yet more bills, quite a shock.
Or do you want a big mystery?
Why are we here? Ask history....
Good question that,
We just are, that's that,
(Now I sound like PMS),
Dumb question that, I guess,
So, next, that small mystery,
When do I make the postman history?
I guess it's all  mystery to me........

Feedback welcome.
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