#turner
We frolic and laugh, for the dragon sleeps.
We glory in the pleasure of this short summer,
the cool of the brook and the still warming sun,
for the dragon does still sleep.
We will not give good attention to the dark,
though it sits not so far away. We play at peace,
for the dragon does still sleep.
We shall not quieten, for he more than slumbers,
his sleep is the sleep of the near dead,
though he may yet rise and torment us once more.
We will not wait on that future fear.
We will rather frolic in the warmth of sun and laughter,
for the Tamar dragon does still sleep.
And we know a Champion
who is a slayer of all our dragons.
Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 2:28 PM UTC
Aim your guns of flesh oh mighty sailor!
whisk me away on those washing machine waves
Turner, hath you come to keep those ravenous omens at bay?
Embrace me now while I banish this inner monologue
through my skull, to melt infinitely into your indulgent rain.
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
COLLAB. WITH AUSTIN DRAPER
It’s little more than a quiet thought.
The impending feeling that the loneliness
was a creation of my own imploding self-conscious.
I wouldn’t have hurt you voluntarily,
so what outside force could know my mind so well?
It’s little more than a spoken word.
The rumble of the oncoming storm could be felt
from as close as 1.6 miles away,
where the darkness of your room invaded the
not-so secret spots of your heart.
I’m prone, to the truth in your words.
I’m not used to the idea of confronting my thoughts
And sorting them out to you.
Is it that I spoke wrong words? Or I stopped before they meant anything?
You mean so much, and now you are out of my reach.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
Every first time is first done slowly
and then like it's your last.
And when the words tumble out of my mouth
like a whispered avalanche,
It's all I can do to pray
you'll say it back.
But first you stare.
My mind goes a thousand different places,
revolving around the axis of rejection
strung by your silence.
It must be only seconds but it's stretched into
a quiet forever inside my mind.
And when you kiss me instead,
it doesn't calm my fast-paced heart.
That is, until you pull away with the words
close on your lips.
I love you.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
When the lights begin to look a bit like roses, you know you're in for a trip.
The challenging nature of my bones begins to melt away, leaving only the part of me that wants to paint pictures and tame hearts.
My mind is only occupied by the thought of your hand in mine and my only wish is this moment for the rest of my life.
Maybe it's unusual for me.
But I begin to feel that you're my manifest destiny.
And the soft wind and cool-aid sky only add to the idea that my heart is one moment from exploding.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC
I'm afraid you're my
skeleton in the closet
because you pulled my hair
and broke my bones
but if only they new
I enjoyed it
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC
Your smile is unfairly noticeable.
Your voice is disrespectfully low.
Your eyes are rudely easy to get lost in.
And yet, I don't.
Do I?
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
I let the musty air fill my lungs
as it begs to remind me of
where I'm from
I grew up reciting lines
like I was just acting fine
when really I was just a child
with nothing better to do
with their time
and what was a hobby
became a passion
and what was a passion
became forgotten
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
I've almost forgotten how your
other-worldly eyes
peered into my
melancholy soul.
How your
key trained fingers
traced my
summer-kissed skin.
How your
wiser-than-mine words
changed my
impressionable mind.
Almost, but not quite.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
She's got a poet's voice.
One that makes sounds
as effortless as the wind,
describing the way
her mind wanders in Nevada.
I wonder if my voice sounds like that,
when the phrases exit my lips.
I doubt it.
If she sounds like the wind,
I sound like a old train horn.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:28 PM UTC
You ran the knife along your arm
until the plastic cut your paper skin.
As I pulled it from your grasp
you asked why
the pain and guilt
gleaming in your eyes
and I noted as I looked at you,
that plastic knives can cut too.
You never said you were fine.
I mentally compared
your arm to mine
holding back tears because
I was too angry to cry
The half cross you bear now
made me furious
because there was nothing I could do
to change it.
You'd gotten to far along
without intervention.
And I took responsibility.
It felt like my fault.
Like the wound was on my arm,
and I poured in the salt.
I'm sorry.
You deserve more than the faint scar
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:27 PM UTC
Her wide rim glasses gave her away.
Long white hair and a soft face,
a wide contrast from the one
I was expecting.
Though they both held the
permanently risen eyebrows,
a sure sign of a poet,
She wasn't the laureate
with the short hair and daring face.
She told stories of trespassing.
She spoke as though
her life was that of an adventurer,
convincing us through
clever thoughts and rhyming words.
I listened,
almost unsure because I was
waiting for Star,
Not realizing I was missing one.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
She likes trains.
I learned this because she was trying to fill up her five minutes.
She seemed unsure
but her stories told otherwise.
She spoke of marble bridges and Finland colours,
Enchanting enough that I didn't learn her name until afterwards.
Margret.
An English teacher
unafraid of rambling,
but terrified of going over time.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
The stars mean so much to me because they put the universe in my hands and beg me to alter it.
They're the only company known,
while the world sleeps, and I can't.
What an incredible experience it is to see your world at rest, riddled with the pain of knowing you can't join them.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:24 PM UTC
Every step I took was controlled.
I had to resist sprinting,
my life on my tail.
I'd taken a quiet road,
begging something to happen.
Anything.
I knew I couldn't run from this,
(and really I just needed something to run from)
but the road was open
they'd never find me
though it left marks in the air,
they couldn't track my breath
and there was nothing else to track.
I could have left.
I don't care about being famous.
A well-known life isn't necessarily
a better one.
The one thing I do care about,
is lack of normality
I wish this life was enough for me
but it's not
every empty road calls to me
like a lover left behind
every day,
like an opportunity lost
I need adventure so badly it hurts,
and I wonder if I got it,
if I'd stop sitting on cliffs
while I contemplated what it would feel like to fall
what the wind rushing over my silver hair would feel like,
whether or not it would be worth it
I've contemplated death because it holds more potential than my life.
I understand that I shouldn't.
But on more than one occasion,
I've stood with the intention to fall.
I've walked on roads
with an intention to run.
I live every day in dread of having nothing to fight.
I've been cursed with such an easy life, when I was born with a fighting soul.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
A wave of sadness
hit the city this week.
For the first time in a while,
everything was unbearable.
It was almost like there was a death
of a person we all knew,
affecting all our lives
and leaving us dead inside.
Like the God of liveliness
gave up on us for a week
leaving us to fight against the
lack of light on our side.
Smiles, real or fake,
never reached our eyes
resulting in quiet empty looks
like we had lost the will to thrive.
Probably because we had.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
Out of every one of you
who broke my heart
there was one
where I broke yours
first.
There was a time,
when I would have spent
my last day,
leaving my mark on your
unkissed lips
and tracing every line on your hands
with my own.
There was a time
when every moment of every day,
you were on my mind.
I thought I loved you.
I was wrong.
And I know we're young
and prone to puppy love,
and yet it felt so real.
For a time,
you were my everything.
I thought you were the
spark in my eyes,
and the power behind my words.
I believed the very stars themselves
would seem dim
in comparison to our light,
and the world would bend
in our linked hands.
And then I changed.
I've never told you
what really happened,
And now I probably never will.
I felt,
like my entire purpose in life
was to make other people happy
and I wasn't doing a good job.
This isn't an apology,
I've offered enough of those
and honestly
I'm not sorry anymore.
It's more of a lamenting ballad
Recalling the time
I thought I loved you
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:20 PM UTC
I couldn't care less about
"Inspirational Quotes"
I don't need to be told that
the present is a gift
or what the best thing about
rock bottom is
or that only I can stop forest fires.
If I was to write one myself,
it would have less to do with
landing in the stars,
and more to do with
how much better you could see them
if you had the eyes of an octopus.
See,
Octopi have such phenomenal eyes.
The spectrum of color they see
makes our own look like
the ****** box of crayons
you get at a kids restaurant.
Whereas an octopuses,
would be the beautiful,
64 Crayola pack
I always wanted as a kid.
If I ever went blind,
I think I'd get octopus eye replacements.
And yeah,
I'd probably look weird because
they'd be too big for my head
but can you imagine how
strange and incredible
it would be?
And it wouldn't matter how I look because
how I see things
is more important to me
than how I'm seen.
If there was even the
slightest chance,
of seeing though the
eyes of an octopus,
that's reason enough to be alive.
And if I could take your life
or your perspective,
and change it even a bit,
that's reason enough too.
So look through the
eyes of an octopus.
Can you imagine the stars?
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
Cancer.
Carcinoma.
Unintentional cellular suic*de.
All just different ways to say
I'm dying.
They say we fought a battle.
They say we died valiantly.
And once "they" stop talking,
I'd tell them it's more like
we were drafted into a room
where we were forced to put
guns against our heads
and play Russian Roulette
while doctors say
THESE ARE YOUR ODDS.
BEAT THEM.
We learn it's harder
to shoot a gun
while doctors play darts
on our arms.
We learn there's no such thing
as an
empty gun.
Sometimes I feel like I'd have
a better chance surviving
a car crash.
And I cry with my mom
because we both know she'll
survive the backlash.
Now I know you'll have no reason to.
I'll be another
name on a list
another
body, six feet under.
But of all the things about me,
my name is what I hope you remember the least.
But if that's what tethers you
to my memory,
promise me
you'll say my name
and remember.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
Dear people-who-think-global-warming-is-not-a-thing,
You have eyes, right?
You're just not using them?
Because I can open your eyes,
but I can't give you new ones.
But either way, you have ears
so listen up
because I'm going to tell you
why you're wrong.
For one,
this is a scientific issue,
not a political one.
It's not something
that can be debated.
Fact
not
Fiction
Now that's out of the way,
here's the numbers:
Throughout the entire human history,
carbon dioxide levels have
NEVER
been above 300 p.p.m.
(parts per million)
What to know where it's at now?
400 p.p.m.
On the scale of things...
Let's just say we're *******
That's not enough for you?
I'm just getting started.
Sea levels around our lovely planet
have risen 8 inches
In the last hundred years.
Know what else?
NASA says that,
"The rate of the last two decades, however, is nearly double that of the last century."
Also,
You know Stephan Hawking?
The really smart guy?
Yeah, he says you're wrong,
so...
So this is me
begging you
to open your BEAUTIFUL eyes
(I thought maybe flattery would help)
to this disastrous situation.
It's not my imagination,
It's the end of our civilization.
Sincerely, The Environmentalists
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
I wish.
More than anything,
I wish.
Because no matter
how hard I work,
how long I love,
how truly I write,
it's not enough.
Because the poet doesn't get a
happily ever after.
We get a tortured existence,
a few words to say about it,
and an end.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
She prayed to distance
in hopes that she's be blessed
with a heart grown fonder
though she was aware that
new eyes
wouldn't change the way her
blue eyes
saw him
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
There's nothing new under the sun.
I don't think I'll ever get over
that phrase.
Because honestly,
I'll always feel like I have
something to contribute.
Born to late to explore the world,
science is all I got left.
please
leave me something
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
The music wasn't all that good.
But I didn't notice it that much
because I was lost in the
metaphorical resonances
of listening to a dead man's
favorite music.
It felt wrong,
holding a book while most others
held only tears and a bag of chips.
I wasn't a friend is his, and no.
We weren't related.
I'd never met him in my life
and yet there I stood,
mourning the loss of a man
with apparent terrible music taste.
Moral of the story:
Don't take a poet to the funeral of a man they've never met.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 12:51 PM UTC
Quoth the Raven...
I found solace in those words,
every day for the past year.
PC, you have been my solace,
my notebook,
my home,
and I can't bring myself to hide this
in poetic confusion
and metaphors.
You,
and everything that you are,
are sinking into the void
that holds only trolls
and phrases that barely pass
as poetry.
Your colors are fading,
no matter how fast
a select few of us
try to paint them back.
God, I'm so sorry I couldn't do more.
I poured my heart and soul
into you, and yet
it wasn't enough.
Why couldn't I be enough?
...
I know that's not fair.
I know you hold so many
beautiful people with beautiful minds.
People who spin feelings
into such perfect words,
people who are slightly
(or more so) insane
but all the best people are.
This was originally a goodbye letter.
But honestly,
I couldn't make myself do it.
Sincerely,
A girl who found a home
in your insanity
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC