#carpenters
To lift a simple block
To see the shapes within the living wood
To take a tool and chip away
To find the natural beauty
To change the form and bring new purpose
That is a carpenter!
Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
I just got ignored
so I pray to the devil
cause he listens more
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 3:26 PM UTC
*oh, these messages, you send,
invitations to a gala, a black tie affair,
but only if willingly pay the exorbitant fare,
your money's no good, you must dare,
find and write the poem hid within
how cold are the carpenter's hands,
the weather, but an added obstacle,
this heat, makes dying different difficult,
the wood bearing cross requires additional nails
and flesh, for the extra load he's bearing,
when it snows blood in Jerusalem
the whole world can transition
when one man dies and another is risen,
where oh where lies then, the juxtaposition?
there is none, for man is man,
his divine spark, embedded,
to his maker's mark, wedded,
neither snow or sun,
can ever, either, extinguish*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
any message you send can and will be turned into a poem
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
When she was young, she'd listen to the radio
Waitin' for her favorite song
When it played, she'd sing along.
When I was young, I'd listen to the radio
Waitin' to hear her
When she came on, I'd sing along
Just like she did.
In your youth, a few weeks ago, you've never had to wait
to hear your favorite song
to hear your favorite artist
to sing along
It's never yesterday.
It's not even today.
It's always Right Now.
And Right Now Once More.
And once more after that.
Right. Fucking. Now.
We're doing 75 miles an hour down the highway and a song pops into your head. You, Digital Native, are only a few clicks of your radio dial away from every song ever recorded.
"What's a radio? Why do they call it a dial?"
That's when we get to the part
Where you're breakin' my heart.
Shooby doo lang lay, kid.
Shooby doo lang lay.
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
Fly man cried for
a big glowing squirrel ran
around
his fat farm
ball.
He ate
my magic
joy
frog.
He blames me;
the milk
was spoiled
before
I
knew
the carpenter's dream
or
the fist
of
darkest
unspoken
desire.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC