#ol - Hello Poetry

The coca-cola breath! Flashing lights, tweetie birds, the rough narcotic stench The sky is devoid, it is scared of the streets etched in starlight, everything shining-- tangerine and Coit and ohhhh boy don't'cha know what you're in for? Twilight and she is a figment on my mind the bark of cigar is fiery opal on my slender frame I can hear something along the lanes of love Echoing behind me, the rising sun Funny dudes in new suits, pressed, steamed, machine-rolled pills in the pockets shipped locomotive Every etching has its china every etching is porcelain skin The fog is a silken balloon, unconcerned, wayward The men longingly abide in its cool, the breath of an over-excited lover, singing in the showerhead an embarrassing microphone over the west coast It's all over! it's the end the roads are devoid of the things that called you They are a clarion horn on the Claremont, facades etched with windowpanes here the americans eat tofu and pretend it's bacon I am in the rapidly rotating spoke, enjoying the taste of woodchuck, upchucking my guts every Sunday, white knuckle-- praying to god release release what a steal that's a fantastic car for the price! it is only 10 years of payment only 10! House worth 40, kids worth 60, medicinal payments corn flakes Fortified iron gates and god says, naw let them all out until they drown, I'll never flood the earth but I'll make it puddles and if they want they can lay face down I am eating Korean stew and wondering what will happen when unification builds a railroad from Moscow to Busan I will travel it and write a novel or two it will be "On the Railroad" and start in San Francisco or a little while outside on an October evening with not a fog in the sky Just sky, blue, blue sky A child on the hillside blowing bubbles in the apartment complex or the gravel mound next to new homes, now cookiebread gingerbed frames Doing tricks on BMX bikes, getting our elbows smashed, a designated paramedic It's all built up now, concrete streets and lonely streetcorner lamps saying Hey we're gonna light up this little space Hope you don't mind Please don't play too loud And given that these spheroids are monumentally moving hurling like a pitched water glass everything staying put under the motion of it Such a lovely rooting of mass I will call alongside it, crawling towards answers etching on murals and on the stamping of curbs E-5 West main 4451 Lowell Street 554 Happy Valley Road It's all the fun little tributaries of surface waters heading with precognition towards seas roped into it by specific gravity On the phone i spoke to Mr. Victorious I asked him about his particular drone down south there in the more direct limelight of the night he told me about his uncle, in prose of course we just hung our heads over the speakerphone Not sleeping the way we should shouldering burdens as ***** in deserted zones laughing and preaching to cottonfields Then there was the girl the one we forgot, truth be told The one unrequited impetus for all art, all physicality and feeling loved by god in the corporeal She is the saffron reed in my eye, the one i forgot to preach Victory to She that one oblong pebble, rolled by the stream passing our campgrounds and continuing her journey to sands small little microscopic tetrahedral perfection I could get stuck in between my teeth or perhaps left on the sweat of the skin the lost moments of beachside living, love for the expansiveness, left in the diner seat of the car, gotta keep moving Carrying her away and if not careful, nestling her back atop the summits from whence she came. it is a cola in the glass on the shores of the bay, it is a divine moment of contact in the oceans two sailors acknowledging their vessels with light shows and the play of eye off the horizon, a green light o' sprite.

0

Nov 5, 2018

Nov 5, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC

TimelessWave

Somnambulism

The coca-cola breath! Flashing lights, tweetie birds, the rough narcotic stench The sky is devoid, it is scared of the streets etched in starlight, everything shining-- tangerine and Coit and ohhhh boy don't'cha know what you're in for? Twilight and she is a figment on my mind the bark of cigar is fiery opal on my slender frame I can hear something along the lanes of love Echoing behind me, the rising sun Funny dudes in new suits, pressed, steamed, machine-rolled pills in the pockets shipped locomotive Every etching has its china every etching is porcelain skin The fog is a silken balloon, unconcerned, wayward The men longingly abide in its cool, the breath of an over-excited lover, singing in the showerhead an embarrassing microphone over the west coast It's all over! it's the end the roads are devoid of the things that called you They are a clarion horn on the Claremont, facades etched with windowpanes here the americans eat tofu and pretend it's bacon I am in the rapidly rotating spoke, enjoying the taste of woodchuck, upchucking my guts every Sunday, white knuckle-- praying to god release release what a steal that's a fantastic car for the price! it is only 10 years of payment only 10! House worth 40, kids worth 60, medicinal payments corn flakes Fortified iron gates and god says, naw let them all out until they drown, I'll never flood the earth but I'll make it puddles and if they want they can lay face down I am eating Korean stew and wondering what will happen when unification builds a railroad from Moscow to Busan I will travel it and write a novel or two it will be "On the Railroad" and start in San Francisco or a little while outside on an October evening with not a fog in the sky Just sky, blue, blue sky A child on the hillside blowing bubbles in the apartment complex or the gravel mound next to new homes, now cookiebread gingerbed frames Doing tricks on BMX bikes, getting our elbows smashed, a designated paramedic It's all built up now, concrete streets and lonely streetcorner lamps saying Hey we're gonna light up this little space Hope you don't mind Please don't play too loud And given that these spheroids are monumentally moving hurling like a pitched water glass everything staying put under the motion of it Such a lovely rooting of mass I will call alongside it, crawling towards answers etching on murals and on the stamping of curbs E-5 West main 4451 Lowell Street 554 Happy Valley Road It's all the fun little tributaries of surface waters heading with precognition towards seas roped into it by specific gravity On the phone i spoke to Mr. Victorious I asked him about his particular drone down south there in the more direct limelight of the night he told me about his uncle, in prose of course we just hung our heads over the speakerphone Not sleeping the way we should shouldering burdens as ***** in deserted zones laughing and preaching to cottonfields Then there was the girl the one we forgot, truth be told The one unrequited impetus for all art, all physicality and feeling loved by god in the corporeal She is the saffron reed in my eye, the one i forgot to preach Victory to She that one oblong pebble, rolled by the stream passing our campgrounds and continuing her journey to sands small little microscopic tetrahedral perfection I could get stuck in between my teeth or perhaps left on the sweat of the skin the lost moments of beachside living, love for the expansiveness, left in the diner seat of the car, gotta keep moving Carrying her away and if not careful, nestling her back atop the summits from whence she came. it is a cola in the glass on the shores of the bay, it is a divine moment of contact in the oceans two sailors acknowledging their vessels with light shows and the play of eye off the horizon, a green light o' sprite.

86

I had a dream I killed you. Threw knives at your fat chest, held you under the bath water when you were a baby. Pinched your nose and covered your mouth with a pillow, gave you a razor and made you do it yourself. I woke up cold and strangely calm. I woke up tired of both of us. And under the yellowed, motheaten blankets, I realized: it was what we’d both always wanted.

0

Nov 8, 2016

Nov 8, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC

clementzobel

Mother Daugher Ballad

I had a dream I killed you. Threw knives at your fat chest, held you under the bath water when you were a baby. Pinched your nose and covered your mouth with a pillow, gave you a razor and made you do it yourself. I woke up cold and strangely calm. I woke up tired of both of us. And under the yellowed, motheaten blankets, I realized: it was what we’d both always wanted.

13

There is nothing more satisfying when you came to read books of your memories and returning it to the bookshelf of your mind

0

Mar 28, 2018

Mar 28, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC

insignificant_wolf

hung over

There is nothing more satisfying when you came to read books of your memories and returning it to the bookshelf of your mind

8