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Lookit me.
This street is mine.
My walk.
My swing.

Lookit this
***** on the *****.

Lookit that,
******* on the chest.
(Say what?!)

Privilege? I'm filled with love my
mother made sure I can't escape.

I won't use the public bathroom, then.
I love you.
I won't meet your eyes with mine, because I
I love you.
I won't try to find the return address, as
I love too much to quantify my chances.

Privilege? I'm glad you're so concerned
with the politics of my personhood.

What I wouldn't give to share a romantic moment.
when the time
came up to you,
and realized you have
biggest load of sin,
I will pick the best song
for you to sing.
I'm going to listen to
all those burdens
until you cry to sleep
and make you a
sweetest coffee
for an ordinary morning.
but atleast
you know,
even those things
that I'd always love to do.
Brendan Sansome Jun 2015
If I were a tune
I'd dance with me and
Lift my feet up star lit stairs
To level ground in far out space.

If I were a rune
I'd read with me and
Lift my spirit up moon kit floors
To love and care with grace.
Prabhu Iyer Mar 2015
Resume: Jewel de Saex
Address: Lost somewhere up the hills.
                 email: [email protected]
                 Tel: + network not available


Hire me if: you are looking for an adventure.
Clouds, gorges, and I never disappoint, for we can cry.


Bachelor, Mistress and Widower at the University of Zoya, majoring
in Life Sciences, with a minor in the applications of horseshoe magnets.


I know them laws of attraction well +

New languages: both Silicon and Carbon-based ++

Magic, luck and fate.


For years I steered a boat
riding a rough river that
passed storms every day.

I was the rain-maker, I can
bring tears to any passing cloud
by my mere hand-gesture:
(all the dough-kneading.)

I was also the chief gardener
for Loz, whose farms at
the other end of the Earth
I visited by the switch door
in my old photo-albums each day.


Jugglery, innovative use of cutlery, reading runes, plucking prunes,
riding boats on dunes, talking by eyes, hearing by sight.

References: Not available even on request.


+   Turn pages back and you always find, only one person was in love.

++ I can decipher the meanings in the lispings of cherubs and angels.
     I understand the cloud and the river, as of men in any tongue.
Next poem in the #Hermit series: this one is based on the Surrealist 'dream resume' technique. Zoya means life.

Tammy M Darby Sep 2014
Mystical runes cast
The old forgotten songs sung.
I summon all my power from white fire.
It approaches stealthily;
The darkest hour.

The blackened *** will be stirred.
Words unspoken for a thousand years,
From blood less lips said.
Owls talons, lizards and toadstools,
With this potion my small vial fill.

Dragons, demons, imps and sprites,
Salute in homage  and bow down.
Ghosts appear if I so desire.
With a wave of my hands.
The contents of the glowing cauldron,
Bubbling fiercely,
Turning the future red.

And so with out announcement
Striking of twelve on the hour
What was foretold has begun
It comes;
The darkest hour.

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Sept. 21, 2014.
he Darkest Hourm

— The End —