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Elizabeth Zenk Sep 2018
As I sit here and stir thinking about how much I miss them.
I begin to realize.
They have been replacements for the two people I missed and loved the most.
KD and CB.
But it still hurts.
All of this still hurts.
I crave emotions stability
jiminy-littly Jan 2016
turn me over and sing me a song of sixpence
hearing voices, not seeing faces ... with the radio on

it's just me myself and I

driving between towns emoting, gushing
hurt me, break me, **** me!
at the top of my lungs

finding bars buried in backyards
on back roads of insincerity

birch bitten and chewed
logs wet and rotten
and still, chords neatly stacked in ordered rows

can you stand me on my feet?

back home
brushing my teeth yellow
biting my nails turgid, hoping she will come with me to a show
my state is of a lower-class shambling

hoping for a renewal
                or rebirth

sweating on the train repeating God's name

gasping for air making people nervous staring
at their phones wondering if I am going to keel over and die

it's just me myself and I

that's right, write it out in long hand first, then go back and edit

(wishing  to write  like  Tarkovsky)

comparing father and son - an unchecked exception
they were buried in separate coffins
                one in France the other, in a timber cask

but won't I be

I wish I could say, "we have a saying in my country" or "scripture says" or

"I'm lost without you"  (I am and now found).

In ruins at the end of a day
building pigeon flap (or come what may)
ascending a scale of notes in a mirror of songs
behold an image
in a scale of descending notes at dawn.
Зеркало (HD) / The Mirror - YouTube.

The Mirror of Time and Memory

Live in the house-and the house will stand.
I will call up any century,
Go into it and build myself a house…
With shoulder blades like timber props
I help up every day that made the past,
With a surveyor’s chain I measure time
And traveled through as if across the Urals.

I only need my immortality
For my blood to go on flowing from age to age.
I would readily pay with my life
For a safe place with constant warmth
Were it not that life’s flying needle leads me on Through the world like a thread.
Arseniy Tarkovsky

His song sounds rather like this:
A drawn-out "ohh-h-h-h-h-h," descending downward, almost like a sweet moan, followed by a series of about 7 or 8 descending notes, like a descending scale, fading slowly toward the end of his song. Thus:
Judith Posted 06 July 2007 - 08:56 PM
saniyya Mar 2016
I don't know about you but,
I look for you in everyone.
I keep looking around this new school for someone who like looks like you, or acts like you, or talks like you, or walks like you, and there's no one.
svdgrl Nov 2014
The little boy left his soccer ball on the field,
perhaps to be kicked around later,
only to find it missing.
And it was a gift from dad.
So dad bought him a new one,
and the little boy decided to keep it in the trunk,
and never play with it.
And he just picked up another hobby.
Years later, he found his soccer ball-
So he went out and bought a new one.

— The End —