#knocks
Done, I do the dew, with did
Smile, and appreciate the door
I play the real, for a better curiosity hid
In the senses you offered; a dread to fare, an actor
Silly old milestone, on a jealous road?
Sorry about the craving, the saving for heed
Time is my most intimate hour, until a tongue to hold
Witness the swallow of pride, I make for austerity's lead
Promise me a flower, and the wealth of an eye
Takes the truth to a salt, where misogyny is mine for a need
In the shared lips, to welcome another friend, to the table of the divine
Learn and ascertain, the better of me, in the land of where we seem
To be the kinder of many eyes
Role's in the hindrance of a youth, that kept their vow
Forces in the more, if not the good nature we deem, is a shine
Of a clash, and the need of home to look beyond how...
Here is the fate of a kiss...
Hanging from the proverbial legend of yet to be named
Wars in the very and stare of a creed, when a house has a wish
Can a strength step forward, to liberate mercy from hope's fame?
Since, if not a grace to compare you to aging
Them of ought, in the paces we meant, an eclectic rainbow
Come with me to the voice I hear, is a desire imagining
Our few, in the here and now, to let a new savior into the house?
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 7:09 PM UTC
I'm afraid to be
In my house
I'm afraid to be
Out of it
Because there
Are knocks
On my door
When nobody's there
Because I hear people
Whispering in
My basement
And because if
I sleep
Too long
I know it's
Gunna come back
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 12:16 AM UTC
The world seeks out the youth in me
waiting to devour it eagerly
wanting to remember the flavor.
Lukewarm without seasoning,
consuming it---
first body, as sparse appetizer
then soul, as both dessert and entree.
Mistakes are used as marinade
drowned in salt and vinegar
the recipe of all humanity
before I am tenderized,
with each violent flash of the silver mallet.
Finally plated---
on the finest china
surrounded by soft flowing table cloth,
and folded napkin of regret.
Mind the spotless silverware
once cut, the juices begin to flow.
The menu is carried away
and the wine list is red.
I am revealed
then served with a green garnish;
under the nose of unforgiving critics
whose taste buds had withered long ago.
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 10:43 PM UTC
let me know
when you will go
as you take with you
everything even my soul
i search for my self
my eyes will give
answer that it might go
the time will pass
the time comes
my watch annoys
as i look at times
she finally stops
my heart knocks
in spite of its knocks
the lamp is off
as the electricity was off
my brain was light
waiting her bright
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 3:15 AM UTC
Every minute I will wait for you,
I am sure you will make it worthwhile,
Because I am truly entirely yours.
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
If each and every grain were a
Year,
Than every knock would be an
Episode,
So came the story that is my
Door.
And,
One – was the loudest pound,
“Authority,”
When the P.D.’d nearly warped
Hinge,
So came my first night in the
Clink.
Two, three, and four – Love, only
Love,
And one of two later;
SLAM!
Or one silent escape, fled and
Sundered.
Five – was the knock that never came.
Six – “tap, tap, tap,”
Mom,
It must have been my mom, or rather,
Obligation
And she’d swear to my sisters, “he’s
Ok.”
Seven, eight, and nine – Deliveries,
Disguise,
Pizza, Chinese, pizza and not so
Famished
Anymore; fuel for the guts, guzzle for the
Words.
Ten – came a' “gamechanger,”
Tear-smeared-mascara,
And two hands atop your
Abdomen;
I knew atop the water your freckles,
You’d never need knock again.
So if each and every grain were a
Year,
Than every knock would be an
Episode,
And this would be the story, that’d ever
Be our door.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC