#cetera - Hello Poetry

Oh, my Medusa That piercing, seductive stare Gets me so rock hard. "braullw nevae falls" That's 'braille never fails', Spelled by a blind man. Matsuo Basho Turns in his grave: first, five times then seven, then five. The dankest of **** Floats slowly into my lungs Oh wait...Asbestos. hahaha ye boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii yeyeyeyeye ye boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii hehe wyd

0

Oct 19, 2017

Oct 19, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC

achillesontheroof

A Collection of Dumb Haikus, Thanks

Oh, my Medusa That piercing, seductive stare Gets me so rock hard. "braullw nevae falls" That's 'braille never fails', Spelled by a blind man. Matsuo Basho Turns in his grave: first, five times then seven, then five. The dankest of **** Floats slowly into my lungs Oh wait...Asbestos. hahaha ye boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii yeyeyeyeye ye boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii hehe wyd

15

/ picked an iris from the garden / took a hacksaw to the petals / when i could have just picked them apart / \ which garden? \ only one of its kind \ a blemish in the desert, a stubborn breakout of petulant colour \ under schrodinger's sun \ model's smiles so ugly betwixt the natural verdure \ i tell them this \ to save myself from perceived slights \ and she does, indeed, look slight \ / the word "help" drawn in the sand / the rusting handle of the shovel burning hands / as i hack at stems swaying nonchalant / in the stinging wind / \ from left \ to right / then left \ then right / before bleeding out on the flat palm of the tool - \ a wren \ tar-black \ perches on a nearby tree \ shakes the dust off a wing \ and casts a shadow across our little oasis \ before opening its beak to song \ dragging more people into the dark will not help you find the light switch \ and other assorted platitudes \ / so the model walks out into the desert / i follow / dragging her garden along / it's wrapped around my ankles / oh the irony in losing blood to the vines tightening / dragging across hot sand / and eventually it's all too heavy / so i collapse / breathing in the arid ground / skin turns as red as a bull's nightmare landscape / yet she continues to walk / as if nothing happened / is it the heat that leaves me melting away? / or the guilt? / in any case / i got caught in the trap i set for her / eyes close / and she is leaving... leaving... leaving... left.

0

May 14, 2018

May 14, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC

achillesontheroof

yesterday i was born and today i am jaded

/ picked an iris from the garden / took a hacksaw to the petals / when i could have just picked them apart / \ which garden? \ only one of its kind \ a blemish in the desert, a stubborn breakout of petulant colour \ under schrodinger's sun \ model's smiles so ugly betwixt the natural verdure \ i tell them this \ to save myself from perceived slights \ and she does, indeed, look slight \ / the word "help" drawn in the sand / the rusting handle of the shovel burning hands / as i hack at stems swaying nonchalant / in the stinging wind / \ from left \ to right / then left \ then right / before bleeding out on the flat palm of the tool - \ a wren \ tar-black \ perches on a nearby tree \ shakes the dust off a wing \ and casts a shadow across our little oasis \ before opening its beak to song \ dragging more people into the dark will not help you find the light switch \ and other assorted platitudes \ / so the model walks out into the desert / i follow / dragging her garden along / it's wrapped around my ankles / oh the irony in losing blood to the vines tightening / dragging across hot sand / and eventually it's all too heavy / so i collapse / breathing in the arid ground / skin turns as red as a bull's nightmare landscape / yet she continues to walk / as if nothing happened / is it the heat that leaves me melting away? / or the guilt? / in any case / i got caught in the trap i set for her / eyes close / and she is leaving... leaving... leaving... left.

9

my excuse is that i was raised by wolves, my dear and i had my teeth filed into pinpoints and i had my back hunched over until my spine was a golden arc. but did you ever run with a pack, my dear? your food came to you, cooked, prepared, served by a gloved hand. and everything could be solved with a 'please' and a 'thank you'. but our differences don't stop there, my dear there is a distinction between school grounds and hunting grounds between daisy chains and food chains. or, if you please, packed lunch and slain lunch better still: between praying and preying between what one hears and what one herds. yet here we are, my deer and for all notions of civilized behaviour you are the one baring animal teeth.

0

Aug 31, 2017

Aug 31, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC

achillesontheroof

role models and role reversals

my excuse is that i was raised by wolves, my dear and i had my teeth filed into pinpoints and i had my back hunched over until my spine was a golden arc. but did you ever run with a pack, my dear? your food came to you, cooked, prepared, served by a gloved hand. and everything could be solved with a 'please' and a 'thank you'. but our differences don't stop there, my dear there is a distinction between school grounds and hunting grounds between daisy chains and food chains. or, if you please, packed lunch and slain lunch better still: between praying and preying between what one hears and what one herds. yet here we are, my deer and for all notions of civilized behaviour you are the one baring animal teeth.

15