#multitude
Say something
Prove I'm wrong
You have an argument ready
Mess up perfect break-up speech
This is headed south already
You excel at sounding smart
Realize how little you know
Compliment me
Flatter my senses
Ass-kissing you owe
Are you fooling yourself?
Got nothing going for you
Walking away
It's what's best
It isn't easy for me to do
Dang dude
Grow the hell up
So immature it makes me sick
Lame in a multitude of ways
Including a tiny ****
Aug 18, 2021
Aug 18, 2021 at 9:32 AM UTC
I'm grateful
You've been faithful
Time after time
I'm grateful you don't work within the limits of my mind
I'm grateful that I don't have to strive
That your blood was enough to cover my life
And the multitude of sin that I try to hide
That you already won the fight
That the Son has irreversibly pierced the night
That I never have to prove I'm right
Because you proved everything when you chose to die
I'm grateful for all that you've done
And all that you haven't done
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 5:07 PM UTC
_He is a child who covers his eyes with peep-hole hands and thinks himself unseen; he talks softly when the multitude shouts out loud, and hums sweet tunes to
block the trembling arpeggios and clashing riffs of humanity in discord.
He is overwhelmed by the silence of life's unspoken words.
He is a listener who also has something to say.
He sees into the hearts of men.
Will you let him
speak?
Speak
if you will, Shy,
of what lies within the hearts
of men - unspoken thoughts and peep-hole
tremblings - the whole of life’s silent and unseen somethings.
Softly now; block out the discordant shouts of the clashing multitude.
Close your sweet eyes and listen to those tuneful arpeggios and undercover
riffs. Talk to me. Can you hear the sweet sound of humanity humming out loud?_
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
To imbue artistry with life invoke the multitude,
To imbue life with artistry invoke the muse.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
Umpteen Gods control me
and Zillion brethren alike
born of scads of clans we are mutts
Howling at a moon yowling back
guttural vibration echoing, veering a tempo
towards a tempest tempting temptation itself
These windstorms hailing on a juncture
that infinity will not allow to stop
boggle me into complete
Unrestingly humble obedience
Until I’m not
and a Zillion others follow in suit
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC
*To you, love was about multitudes
To me, love was inordinate
“I love you” I would say
“How much” you would ask
-Lang Leav
You like specifics, you like to hear
How much I do, how much I can
But darling, my love is inordinate
I couldn’t quantify, it’s too lavish
Sometimes unconscionable
And multitudes is never enough
If you ever ask me again
I’ll ask you to count the star
On every galaxy
Until you loses track
I’ll ask you to count every grain of sand
On every ocean floor
Until you ran out of numbers
I’ll ask you to listen to my heartbeat
On every second of the day
Until the infinite of infinities ends
And if ever you asked me again
Of how much I love you
That’s my definition of “how much”*
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
Just because I listen
To digital cello music Monday's
Space rock Tuesday's
Country hoedown Wednesday's
Emotive rap Thursday's
Classical pieces Friday's
And metal on Saturdays
Doesn't mean Sunday
Has to be a day
Of rest
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
I can sit enveloped in this womb of a chair smoking
knowing that you would like the knowledge that I am
watching you asleep in our bed, watching the pulsing sway
of your form as
each gentle breathe you draw stirs and courses
from lung to heart to body, that hallowed body
whose skin I have touched in minutes gone, whose
lines I have traced idly with my fingers, whose
curves I have known and mysteries I have explored
(in time both short and immensely vast
and always, always the finding of more).
Behind you sleeping, through the window lies
the city eager and waiting twenty floors below
vibrant in the blanketing night, a thousand million
countless points of splendid light flickering away
that hold a thousand million countless lives:
one of whom I know one is a man who
watches the sleeping shape of the woman he
adores on a bed disheveled and beautiful, behind
her the city through the window, huge and always
the city we share (as we share this moment),
vibrant in the blanketing night, a thousand million
countless points of splendid light flickering away
that hold a thousand million countless lives:
one of which is mine staring back at his-
the whole world between us: but joined
because we love.
Should we pass each other on the street (he and I)
we could never know by looking that we shared
such colossal galaxies, nor that when
I look into your eyes (or he in hers) we find
our better angels. But I like to think that he
could smell/hear/see your body with mine
(separated by distance but together) and smile,
and he and I could know that in our hands
(his and hers)
(yours and mine)
we all hold a thousand million countless points of light.
I can sit smoking knowing that you would
like the knowledge that I am watching you,
that it is the delicate majesty of you sleeping
framed against the hard eternity of the
city in the window
that makes me feel alive; one amongst a thousand
million countless points of crisp and loving light.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC