"aragorn" poems
I've read a lot of romances,
And before I fell asleep,
I would write my myself into the pages, and fall in love with Wesley and Darcy and Aragorn.
She would catch his eye, and he would approach, and they would talk for hours holding hands under the stars.
I would meet people, who I thought I could replace the heros in my stories,
but,
when the part arrived,
where he got down on one knee,
I couldn't imagine it with anyone.
But now,
I see us meeting at the alter,
our house
and our kids.
I see my old hand on your wrinkled face.
Road trips and trips to the store.
and making up after arguing
what movie to watch on a Friday night.
"You know you're in love when reality is better than your dreams"
I think I might understand now.
Because while you're not perfect,
neither am I.
You exceeded all my expectations
Not only did you fulfill everything I'd hoped for,
but you made it better.
Because it's you. And I could never invent the way you surprise me with the way you make me feel.
I'm excited and unafraid
Of
the
possibly
of
You
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
I watch lord of the rings when I'm feeling
empty and masochistic
when I feel like butter
scraped over too much bread
not toast, but bread, with
butter cold and hard to spread
and I struggle until my bread is full of holes and
I can't hold myself together -
I am the bread.
I watch lord of the rings when I want to be
distracted, reassured that in the end
it is only a passing thing, this shadow
and I cling to those words like my shadow clings to me
hoping one day I will truly believe them
but marathon after marathon
I am frodo only in burden, not in strength
I am aragorn only in fear, gimli only in stature, but
most of all I am faramir in the pyre
except I put myself there and
I don't know how to wake myself up even though
I know the flames are coming.
So give me cream and I will
churn and churn and churn
and give me flames to toast my bread as dark as my shadows,
and I will scrape that butter on that bread until
I can survive.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
The Card Deck exists
like a first probabilistic
dimension of our
Singularity
A priori we know
the deck is stacked
King and Queen -winners
even Jacks with horses are
And Aces?
Our high flyer fishermen
Our David heroes who take on
too much risk
not knowing not caring
of Black Swans
of Cold Snaps
and Power Grid
Price gouging surge
They will always bring
home a win fall
Fishes or Death
----
A sleeping
A shuffle of coils
A ghost in the shell
lingering at the bottom
of our ocean cloud
waiting for Aragorn's
summon a Call to Duty
a cry to battle one
last time brutish twitter trolls
and hordes of pundit orcs
them & Us ghost processes
finally released back
to our collective
CPU
----
Since the Garden
and foaming waves
twos have been losers
still. Double deuces
ain't bad looking at a polluted
River with mix Numbered plastics:
7, 3, 5 and standing styrofoam
waves
----
You and me we play
with Poisson's hand
the Right embraces
a lover's heat
the Left wiggles
from a child's energy
and the Center holds
our grandmothers together
A new dimensional
alt Left strikes
with father's hammer
while novel ancient alt Right
pays from mother's purse
With what frequency
do these hands
give us Chance?
The cards are known to Us
but the unordered shuffles give
surprising Turns
extending our
Game into unobservable
Realms where we
are all in
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 10:33 AM UTC
and i too till my sorrows rather than drown them,
of what i drown i leave unto schnauzers
chessboarder sidewinding interacted with,
and of what i remain i leave into
cleaning-up furr ***** of cats drunk and remaining
truth-riddled of my mother with clean
ingredients used for feast,
that i might come with tears of joy with less
proof of coming from *et eä'rello,
en'do'h're'nn'a(h) utú'lien
sinomé m(eh'am)aruwan
ar hear (d')ildinyār,
tenn amba'r (mēh)
hē ('eh) tāh*
that is aragorn's crowning song of peace upon the crown
if no peace serve the head, of the king, that it might
serve for the crown to serve the king rather than
the king serve the crown in order to simply posture
kingship; as does bob marley's redemption song bring tear
a hope of autumn of fallen leaf among the tears
that i have enough of to write a poem, and not a novel
and not use the pronouns into a lesser lodging of squirrel
or bear in what's comfort to suit hibernation
with specified characters using up a narrator's strength
of character weakness when poets could enter and surprise;
then what weaknesses are there in poetry
if fiction ought be championed and poetry discarded
if the narrator in fiction is stronger than all the characters mentioned -
or a character be cheated as a narrator in order to grasp the bias?
so dear child, do not try to endear filling in me a worth of beauty
as if a worth of will, for my will be a cavity only filled
by beauty that claims no innonce as yours thus expressed...
and in my will i cannot claim beauty as the innocence you
prophesy with falsely - since that flower of your sacred body
will be deflaoured by the noon spoken of
and in season fade and fading embody brown and wrinkle - then
long gone your christ too - unless you be the slave owner
membrane oozing priests into existence with thieves.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC