#oracles
The oracles don't whisper to the living
They chant in vapour
In marrow
In echoes only heard when the self has softened
You must forget your shape
To bear their song
And become smoke to listen
I walked barefoot on salted glass
Between two moons, arguing softly
A crow watched me with seven eyes
And every blink re-wrote my spine
I asked for peace
It offered vision
I asked for answers
It offered mirrors too honest to survive
The oracles don't whisper to the living
They speak in rust
In moth wings
In teeth lost to grief
Their tongues run rivers underground
And you will drown before you understand
I saw a god blink once
And galaxies collapsed inward
Distracted, not cruel
The veil is not a curtain
But a membrane of remembering
I pressed my face through it
And came back less human
More true
The oracles wove their riddles
In the seams of my ribs
Now I hum when it rains
And dream in reverse
The oracles don't whisper to the living
They wait
And when your voice becomes dust
They will answer in wind and meaning
Not words or mercy
If you hear them
You are no longer asking
You are becoming what you once feared to know
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 12:08 PM UTC
I’m Imagining a place where we make sense - the hot-chocolate
safe-house where we’ll tongue wrestle, watch Gossip Girl reruns
and cuddle - sustained by love and Cinnamon Life cereal.
This dark, coffin-like clock in the corner whirrs, mechanically.
Suddenly a little yellow-clock-bird bursts, jumping-jack-like,
through a tiny door on a blue, tongue-suppressor diving board.
“Cuckoo!” it shrieks, to mock me. “Shut up!” I say defensively
but it repeats, “Cuckoo!” like an oracle - an unfeeling instrument
of adult logic.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 5:53 AM UTC
Oracle please tell
me, (free of charge) about the
future that will be.
Show me the bright secrets
of love - be a mystic guide
for my bored heart’s relief.
What kisses may be played
on sweet, future nights with no
tentative whispers please.
Help me conquer the
confusing compresence of
desire and unease.
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 6:38 AM UTC
Some may say our future lies
in our stars.
Connect the dots;
and you will get a summary
of your future days.
But these echoes of light
Were hardly there to see it.
Unreachable oracles.
Maybe they laugh at us
when we open up our horoscopes.
Maybe we should watch the
Satellites instead.
Yet despite all this,
I love their stubbornness;
Holding up the dark like pins.
They keep on shining
Even when the party ended
Thousands of light years ago.
They are the lively ones at the bar,
singing and dancing...
Even when the music has stopped
and they're turning off the lights.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC