#anticlimax
There is nothing between us
Since we are
Together, forever
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 9:21 AM UTC
Embrace me oh love
For I know not the feeling
Of warmth
nor arms on my back
Just hold me my love
for long have i
lost the mem'ry of
painlessness
senselessness
carelessness
relentless...
eyes on me my love
rest them on mine
that i might see care
and oh that you might kiss me
for so have i longed
the sweet greet
of grazing lips
so fondly
found only
in minstrels sung----
that of a swan's song.
so if your love is
as your tongue doth say
so must your love be
and shown in love's ancient way...
demand the world to stop
as you summon the stars
and let them mingle
in the same sky as the sun's
oh love that you'd show me love
that i've heard and neved seen once.
and leave me alone then love...
since i know not of what happens
afterward.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 1:51 AM UTC
Nothing like a cup of coffee to cure your ills
Tired?
Coffee will do the trick
Stressed?
Grab a brew and you'll loosen up, you old stiff.
None of that cheap ****
A slow roast blend from the third world
will do.
Milk?
No, pure.
Sugar?
NO! Pure.
Filter?
No, drip only.
I want every morsel of flavour.
Ever drop from those mud coloured grind granules.
Every little pitter patter
Of brown bitter splatter.
So strong to leave a man wired
Awake?
So Awake ; prepared.
Alive?
So Alive to my surroundings; aware.
Oh, there come those jitters;
perfect,
To be nothing less than scared.
God ****** I said no filter!
*I promise you
it'll tastes better*
Hey buddy, I'm at the centre
Tired of your gimmicks
Frappa-this
Cappu-that
I'm not a fan of that mocha crap
For I am a purist, through and through.
Therefore, hand what I demand,
Said dark waters
With heat of Hades
Please, i must, before i falter
SAVE ME! i FEEL THE SIGNS!
Oh gosh, we're fresh out of coffee.
**** it, well, I guess a tea should be fine!
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 11:39 AM UTC
A waxy, dimpled orb in my hand,
A tiny sunrise, sweet and sharp.
One nail-blade incision and the
Peel tears away when you find the foothold,
Then coursing acid fires through your cuts and bruises,
Burning and tasting wounds with sharp recoil taste,
An acerbic spark.
Pith lodges under my nails,
Tang cloys beneath my nose.
The fruit now pulled apart, the ceremony over,
Segments of the sun lie exposed.
Eat half and half a year you'll remain.
The stringy web of white
Latticing the fruit-flesh
Is a pain to unentwine
What with the juice.
An explosion when you pierce the pocket,
And the gamble of what the burst will be.
Hedge your bets by eating the tasteless ones too.
Then the bathos of a pip
(the pebble inside the fruit, too small to be a stone)
Punctuates the sweetness you'd been enjoying.
Now the fumbling spat to get it out.
And after all the effort it's flavourless,
And you ask was it worth it?
Wasn't even really orange.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC