"cocooned" poems
I.
And my hair became too much
It overtook the walls
made its way into the office on the sixth floor
and then hung
like a dripping willow’s branches
over the desks
By the time they thought to find me
I’d already been wrapped up in a cocoon of brown hair
indistinguishable from the walls
that was now
also covered in the thick strands of undulated hair
II.
everything and everyone became consumed.
III.
In hairy chrysalis, the scissors uselessly
hung on some poor frantic pair of hands
forced into pupa
IV.
It was on the third day that the streets surrounding the corporate buildings were once again
populated with people, that a young woman in heels swore she heard a
faint choral singing coming from the 5th or 6th floor of a dreary grey building.
V.
everything cocooned
everyone consumed
all in pupa
VI.
During metamorphosis, a caterpillar digests itself leaving only behind imaginal discs
that shape it’s adult body.
everything becomes consumed.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
Someday, someday far away
when all the pain has passed
beyond the sea, the sun the stars
I'll find you...love...at last
Though raging storm
or cosmic ray
may tear my limbs apart
my love for you they cannot sway
for you possess my heart
Our Earthly lives hold many fears
remorseless in their quest
to break apart the bonding years
for which we've stood the test
Those precious times together
cocooned in love's embrace
a breathless bead upon my brow
that falls upon your face
Remember me my Angel's dream
as soon my life is through
for every sinew of my soul
belongs alone to you.
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 8:00 AM UTC
I'm a Barbie Girl,
in a Barbie World.
Life's fantastic: I
feel like plastic,
aiming for an eighteen-inch waist because I can afford to throw my internal organs away.
I feel like plastic,
having to choose
between eating and breathing with not enough space for two tubes.
I feel like plastic,
a thirty-nine inch bust and three times the forehead.
I feel like plastic,
a size nine squeezed to a three, spending
three to nine avoiding mealtime because my weight loss book says
'Don't eat.'
I'm a Barbie Girl,
in a Barbie World.
Life's fantastic, but...
I'm not plastic.
I've sat here listening while you complain about society but I don't think you realize that
society is made by you.
You complain about masks but you're masked by your poetry and
trust me,
it's trendy:
Psychiatry.
A bottle of capsules captures your soul and your dreams,
fading
reality.
I cannot be defined because a definition leaves no room for change and I
am a flame,
ready to burn the cardboard box of priority you put over me.
All the cool kids are lesbians and thespians on about repressions
and I care,
I do,
I mean... I'm standing here among you.
But words are just air.
You can stand on this stage and tell me I'm beautiful, but
I am more than my face so
disregard my mild distaste for your
inspirational speech.
Now, this...
This isn't a call for help.
This is a call to arms.
This
is a battle cry because
I
am sick of waiting for a future that should've happened yesterday.
So use this air to live the words you say and
rally.
Do not soothe, because we've already been cocooned by soothed reality in
Shawnee,
Johnson County.
I'm a real girl,
in a real world.
Life's fantastic, and I
refuse to be plastic,
aiming for generic weight range based on content, not scale number.
I refuse to be plastic,
a neck moulded perfectly for both eating and breathing so I don't have to choose.
I refuse to be plastic,
a bust that you don't need to be sizing
when I've got eyes
a green not of romanticized meadows but of drunken
puke.
I refuse to be plastic,
a size nine foot in a size nine shoe,
spending three to nine
enjoying my meal times,
because my weight loss book is
chucked down the chute.
I'm a living girl
in a beautiful world.
Life's fantastic,
because I'm not plastic.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
Silver winged of steel
Buckled up
Cocooned in a cabin
No phones, no emails, no Internet
Racing down the runway
Soaring high above the ground
Distant specks of life
Winged of steel climbs though the skies
Clouds below, clouds above
Seat reclines, put in my earphones, close my eyes
I lose myself, soothed by the motion of the flight
Just a seat, a window, sky, music
Suspended, moving above the earth
Windswept heights
Countries, oceans, mountains, forests
Dawn to dusk
Smooth and turbulent
Dancing through life’s path in the skies
My breath of Serenity
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
If I were a superhero and had any power in the world
I would have...
Super Speed, anything you need I could be there in a FLASH!
No second thought...no maybe or not, I would be there super fast.
Though, that's too obvious.
No, I would pick...
Super Hearing, that would be my choice, I would tune it ONLY to your voice
and know the moment you were in distress. That would be good I guess...
No, not that either.
I would pick...
Super Flight, so that every night I could take you to the stars (though the air might be tight)
it would be super right.
No.
I would pick...
Super Linguist, so I can speak every word, noun and verb into your ear in a feeble attempt to dry up each tear.
No, I would pick time travel and go to the moment you were first sad.
I would have super vision to see you on the days you are glad.
Telepathy to know how you feel.
Super strength to move ANY mountain... when you need healed.
Forgive me for this, it may be a bit extreme.
What you need is not a superhero by anyway shape or means ...what you need is a hug.
Yes, that's it!
If I were a superhero and had any power in the world...it would be Super Hug.
I would hug you so tight till all doubt has left your mind every night.
I would hold you in my arms till you knew your worth.
No, I can't save the Earth with a hug, I can't change everyone's life with my embrace.
But just in case ...I will start with you, I will hug you regardless.
In my arms your petite body will be cocooned till the sun turns in to the moon.
I will hold your neck while you head rests on my chest.
I will put in CHECK... every thought, pain and neglect with the only power, enchantment and medicine that I posses...
My hug.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
In tunnelled darks, pastes of reminisce
Outward disjoint points to irrelevance
Spooned and coned in cold mountaintops
The darks of sorrows and trails of struggles
Persistence patterns of self satire in gloom
Sunken in identity crisis of broad oceans
Stormy seas spotlighted by beatific stars
Trajectory of spilled ice in recurrent motions
A mere past cocooned by fears and tears
Clouded in thoughts that cruise and decline
Greyed white imprinted by sudden sadness
Madness echoes on arched ancient bricks
Checkered maniacs of fulfilled passions
Filed and iced in cased prolific memories
Cascades of sunshine tickles to warmth
Orchards of glow that bloom and grow
Picked, ticked and unpacked from boxes
Attacked, nurtured and stored in bliss
Eventful lessons unfolds in untold augury
A mission as the known permeates and fade
Windowed eyes all line up in parade
Mirrored lights digest the haunted haste
A stranger to self, an ally to another
A dance of bright entwine a twist of blur
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
I feel my warmth,
slick and ready,
Wanton and soft
I love myself.
Trim and smooth,
Tempo slow to begin,
My nerve endings electric,
I love myself.
Eyes closed, I can picture your body,
feel your hands all over mine,
Wet now, dripping.
I love myself.
My kitty is purring now,
faster and steady,
With each caress and stroke.
I love myself.
******* now cupped,
Cocooned in bliss,
Rubbing my ******
I love myself.
Eyes rolled, toes clenched,
Fireworks dancing, I BLAST OFF
Writhing, moaning, releasing
I love myself.
Weakened bliss flows down
Worries and cares removed,
Smile on face
I love myself.
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 3:28 AM UTC
Maybe I’m just weird
But it seems rather
Strange to me
That it is only I
The gay atheist
Will say the pledge
All the others around me
Cocooned in warm ignorance
Refuse to address rights only they have
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 6:06 PM UTC
Laying on a bed of sand
Soft as feather downing
You take hold of my hand
I am floating, drowning
Feeling the blue salt fill me
Your breath kisses my eye
Taking me down to see
Where the turtles fly
Amongst rainbow coral
And fish, timid and shy
Hide amongst a skeletons hull
Gossamer clouds waft over
Driven by a sun tanned breeze
As we lay, cocooned in our ardour
Surrounded by quiet seas
I can feel the blue salt fill me
As your breath kisses my eye
And it’s taking me down to see
Where the turtles fly
Amongst the rainbow coral
And see the fish so shy
Hiding in a shipwrecked hull
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
You're a flower-child,
spread on the bed with
flowers stuck to your little
head,
with Ginsberg & Whitman on
the shelf & feminine mystique
dripping from the
ceiling.
Moon-lady,
Venus,
tides rising & crushing
the shore,
while I snuggle
my flannel for warmth,
trying
not to be a bore.
Framed pictures as you
reminisce on when we
were younger &
untamed.
"We can still be untamed,
we've been framed
for uninsanity!"
But you call me a fool
& put your
porcelain head in my neck
& I feel foolish.
In the damp light of a cloudy day,
muscles aching, waves
crashing,
uncontrollable urges.
Stranded in the pregnant
belly of a ***** secret city
drawing
the red rose of secret union
& we are sheltered
in the ****** warmth of the
blankets,
cocooned like little monsters.
The calming ocean
& the calming whispers
& the tiny kisses
surround me, blot out my thoughts.
You sing me to
sleep & run little
fingers
through my knotted hair.
Your tiny dollar store
Buddhas belch incense
over
the backdrop of your perfume.
The wind chimes
twinkle & whimper on the
porch where the swingset
rocks in the rain.
"I wish you weren't
engaged but I don't mind
breaking a few taboos."
You laugh like a soft mad fairy
& look down
at your phone & I turn over
on my naked side.
You laugh a funeral
giggle & I know I should have
worshipped you sooner
at the pillow-altar.
Show me Heaven without
death &
the Garden of Earthly Delights
devoid of sin,
show me your sharpened fox
grin &
the way sunset ripples
at your breath,
I will show you sacrifice
& the hidden light
of our lives
in the damp of the night.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
The veins in my heart,
rooted down to my stomach,
and from these roots began to grow a tree,
and on its branches caterpillars did roam
right there in my stomach,
they made their home.
yet I was alone.
Enter the lumberjack.
The caterpillars cocooned,
ready to begin the transformation
from girl to woman, oh, the sensation!
Time ticked on,
the lumberjack and I,
with that little spark in our eye,
from the tree, grew a garden, into woods
our love resounding above the forest canopy
the feral instincts, the cinders, the shade
until finally the Sun no longer shone
so the wall of qualms had to go,
in the form of trees,
one by one.
chopped.
Yet.
the wildfires had sparked
and the cocoons were now butterflies
and the forest we grew together was ablaze
what he didn't chop, my cinders singed,
ash by ash life was ceasing to be,
and then from the woods,
were we forced to flee.
and the butterflies flew free
the blossoms,
the trees,
burned
but the butterflies flew free,
in my stomach,
they are free
so now a bit of our dead forest lives in me.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
My mouth is full of moths
My words are not pretty
They do not flutter out with grace and ease
Instead
Twitching as they find their exit from my lips
They are not butterfly
With a name so smooth that it rolls off the tongue
I am not monarch
But
The decaying flesh it preys upon
The contrast between beauty and reality
I do not know why
Why
People like me are attracted to light
I guess it makes since
To swim towards brightness
When you've spent so much of your life in the darkness
Cocooned in between empty spaces
Nesting in silk spun from my own silence
I have spent months inside my shell
Learning how to find my own voice
Learning how to speak my own language
Hearing myself talk for 18 years but for the first time actually listening
Like moth
Touch sends me fleeting
Like moth
Attention back into hiding
I am not conspicous
Nor do I crave to be
Like caterpillar
We
Are all given blind hope
Told that someday
We will be noticed
Visible
Beautiful
But some spend so much time
Preparing for glory
That they forget storybooks lie
That in real life
The very hungry caterpillar
Who was promised butterfly
Becomes moth
Moth
What most see as ugly
And intrusive
Chewing holes in your finest clothing
Making home unwanted places
Moth is undesired
Butterfly is welcomed
Tell me why
One is invited in and the other shut out
Moth is not pretty
Moths lack ofbeauty
Is enough
To disregard it
All at once
Different is enough
To disregard all at once
Do not disregard me
Because I am not ideal
Because i am not fully painted winged beauty
We as a society only stop to see what catches the eye
Unable to notice the intricisies
Of darkness
So look a little closer
Try a little harder
Because if anything is to be known
It is that beauty
Is not
In the obvious.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Here in the heart of my dreams
I’m cocooned in your embrace,
And the moon’s romantic beams
Shine softly on your face
As I relish and enjoy
Every memorable minute
Where nothing can destroy
Our love so infinite.
No one can interfere while
We’re as close as a heartbeat;
Chasing darkness away with a smile,
Loves’ sunshine does it defeat!
As long as I’m nestled here with you
It’s like all my dreams have come true.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 12:29 PM UTC
Winter, winter how we feel your icy touch
The earth is now under your freezing clutch
All that falls in our ears is the howl of gales from far
The night sky is covered in grayness without a single star
In the dawn, nowhere can one spot the buzzing bees
Icicles hang from boughs of leafless trees
Birds sit with drooping wings in their woody nests
Within eye shot, no trace of any roaming beasts
Trees stand sleeping in the biting cold
And the sun has lost its bright sheen of gold
From nowhere comes the song of a single bird
On the slopes, one cannot sight the grazing herd
Roof tops are crusted with flakes of snow
Which the sun with sharp beams alone can thaw
Piles of snow lie heaped on the barren ground
And the entire Earth lies in a sea of ice drowned
Busy streets and pavements are now lying bare
People stay indoors and to be out, they hardly dare
The rodents have gone into hibernation in their ditch
And life altogether has gone out of pitch
In the smiting chill of a dreadful wintry night
When through every fiber n’ nerve is the cold bite
How we like to sit cocooned beside the hearth
Sipping a cup of steaming tea in rising mirth
In such quiet hours, one can peruse into the pages of tomes
That will transport one to enchanting magical zones
Or engage in a hearty chat with friends and family
Thus turning even the bleakest hours sweet and lively
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 5:59 AM UTC
Images extracted from
the tapestry of my dreams.
Sewn intricate...
Into a patchwork.
A quilt,
embroidered with lavish sequins and ornate beads.
Bringing forth fantastical motifs...
A dazzling display
upon the backdrop of my dreamscape.
Yet...
This mosaic of dreams
does not warm me so.
It never lasts.
They fall away like autumn leaves
come the dawning sun.
They get washed out and pulled into the tide,
as the waves beat upon the shore of wakefulness.
They fade into fragmented memories
that make no sense...
Incoherent and disjointed.
Eventually, they disappear...
For they do not belong
in a world of worldly things
and ticking clocks.
Their intangible and mismatched nature
render them inconsequential...
Naturally...
They get misplaced.
But I am stubborn.
I will fashion such a blanket.
One that skirts the boundary
of this realm and the other.
I will tailor it so...
So that...
I will sleep tonight,
swaddled tight and cocooned within its
glorious seams.
Tucked within the safety and warmth of
this blanket...
Woven immaculate...
Out of
worldly things and breathtaking dreams.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
Leave us in a bedroom
a locked room
both bound by a fleeting veneration
but no tangible definition
and windows will fog up
with excess anxious laughter
and phlegmmed throats
til the glass transforms
transparent to translucent
so the outside world becomes
an informed guess about
which coloured shape is going
where.
The door handle will twist into the room’s
home grown central nervous system
backed by rising voices
rising pulses
assuring ourselves it is
everybody outside
who is trapped and not us
because ‘cosy’ has scribbled over
‘cramped’ between the sheets of peeling
wallpaper and bodies upon bodies upon
bodies only excites.
We will stay in bed
cocooned around this single duvet
and distracted into its folds because this
is how we choose to spend
free will. Don't
murmur about the locked door
and even when it opens for
lack of air or food
so we tentatively tread through into the
open, or perhaps closed,
I beg you to
grab my wrist and pull me back and whisper
tear yourself up
decrease with me
because this will always be the one place we’ll happily suffocate.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
Knowledge is butterflies in flight.
A doubting caterpillar needs
His faith in metamorphosis.
Without it his future: horror.
Mother gone this way before him.
Father gone before his time here.
The only hope: whispered instinct.
A still sound in the face of fear.
"Those who've gone before me", says he
"Loved me and wanted good for me."
"They willed me to believe in life
Beyond: the metamorphosis."
Every day, eat of leaf. Chew. Rest.
Do not wander ye from safety.
Heed ye these rules, follow the way.
Know ye that our decree's from love.
Brother tells tall tales, adventure
Excitement, a world of wonder
To have now! No waiting, no need
To wait, fear, hope. Enjoy it now!
Brother says: "metamorphosis
Is a tale made by those who want
To control and manipulate.
To keep us from pleasures in life."
Brother says: "The dark chrysalis
Is a grave, death, ending, final.
Now is time to discover.
What tastes good is the true good.
Only now do we have the chance
To learn, explore, see and enjoy."
He's eaten leaves outside the path.
Brother says: "they are juicy good!
Come all, leave this way mapped by those
Who want to keep you from juicy
Leaves and the whole wide world to see"
Brother says. "Don't hope, enjoy now."
Sister left the barque, left the safe
Path to the leaves mapped out by some
Unknown cartographer. Unknown!
She's not back. He hopes for her best.
But our caterpillar here, friend,
Has chosen the old dreams and hope.
To follow the path mapped to leaves
That nourish the body and heart.
He has chosen to believe that
The wisdom of age and instinct
Is more trustworthy than the word
Of youthful brother's juicy world.
His doubts he's cocooned in faith's silk.
These bland leaves he eats for promise
Of sweet flower's nectar beyond.
Today's toil for tomorrow's joy.
Doubt frightens. The chrysalis looms.
No control, nature compels it.
Unfair, afraid, the silk spins tight.
In pain, the world grows dark and still.
He faces his end. He must choose
To listen to the still, small sound.
Have faith he's not schizophrenic.
Believe in more passed the cocoon.
His ancestral council and creed
He chooses to embrace and trust
To face his end with dream and hope.
His doubts cocooned by faith in Love.
Butterflies are knowledge in flight.
For at their end, faith is fulfilled.
These butterflies their joy have reached,
Through faith in metamorphosis.
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 9:01 PM UTC
I tried, believe me, I did.
If only you could have been there to watch it.
I ran inside myself.
I drowned within my spirit.
I swam in a sea of blackness, filled with my essence.
I felt my warmth.
I cocooned myself inside this body, and cancelled any outside resonations.
I turned inward and made my concience backwards.
I ducked, the ever-flowing world passing me atop my head.
I curled into nothingness.
I became dissolved.
I felt my spirit.
And just like he told me,
I merged with myself.
And nothing changed.
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 1:59 AM UTC
Standing here
I stood my ground
floating
closer
than the distance
Further
than ‘ahead’ I saw
me
fighting for resistance
Fast
unmoving
– not alone –
with only me
I stayed
Fumbling
– screaming loud –
to hear it:
. . . silence . . .
yet I disobeyed
Cocooned in air and
muffled
by these fitful gulps
I dared not breathe I
marked out time
in vacant space
I owned – yet
not yet: not for me
Thinking hard
I cleared my mind
– illusioned, lost –
yet
memories traced
Would I
(should not) leave
I’d try
The where?
Just ‘some’
to
ANY place
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
Some people think that they have the right
To go throughout life pointing out imperfections
Everyone has their own flaws,
But people need to think and realize: I am the perfect me
I might not be a Barbie doll
I might not have perfect hair
I know my body is not ideal
Sometimes it just isn’t fair
I might not be the brightest girl
Sometimes I struggle in school
I might not be Valedictorian
But I’m sure not a fool
I know I am the Perfect Me
I might not be the most athletic
Sports might just not be my thing
I won’t always get first place
But in a competition, the best is all I bring
I might not be the perfect daughter
Sometimes I speak my mind
Some days I’ll admit I’m a little lazy
But I have never gotten behind
I am the perfect me
I am not the most organized girl
Some days it’s a balancing act to get everything done
Some days it would be so easy to give up
But I know sticking to it will pay off in the long run
I am not the most valued girl
Some days it’s as if I weren’t there
I am not always the one they go to
But nevertheless they still care
I am not the most popular girl in the school
Nor do I have the favored styles
I might not have the best ideas
But with individuality by my side, I can go miles
I am the perfect me
I might not have the best self esteem
I don’t walk with my nose in the air
I will admit, your words do hurt
But I try my hardest to realize, I shouldn’t care
As you can see I have my flaws
I am not afraid to be one from the crowd
Some days I feel a bit insecure
But I have every right to be proud
Shoot me down
But I will only stand higher
Tell me I am wrong
And that I don’t belong
And I have one thing to say, I am the perfect me
Tell me? Is anyone perfect?
Does anyone have the right to judge?
I know I am far from perfect
But I will continue to stay strong
We have all either been on one side of the story
Being bullied or the bullier
And I want to ask you, what made you feel good?
About telling someone their not good enough?
-=
All of us have fought our own battles
And some of them have been lost
We have all had our bad times and struggles
But still we only stand stronger
Be a hand when someone has fallen
Be a shoulder to cry on when someone’s upset
You never know how much it can help them
Or how much they need it in the end.
I only stand stronger when you say those things
My scars only seal open wounds
They are within my sheet of armor
One that I’ll never undo
White, black, Hispanic
Blue, brown, green or hazel
Short, tall, thin, thick
We are all beautiful
Love me or hate me
Judge me or criticize
Blinded by seeing
Only what’s on the outside
Everyone in this world is imperfect,
Everyone is a shining star cocooned, ready to fly
Everyone has their own flaws, even though some want to deny,
The next time someone tries to point out your flaws, tell them, bold and strong
I am no less than the perfect me!
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
The lizard king came alive in the walls of prophets,
A shrine to help follow the subjects of the topic.
I lost my mind, but found it inside the tombs of those left behind.
I left a part of my soul on La Ciegna Boulevard.
The looking glass had the last laugh,
Some smiled.
The sun dials told the time accurately.
The shadows followed me from one side of the city to the other.
All the way to the coast of the continent.
It was here I found the confidence that was lost in the dominance of you.
We broke on through to the other side,
but it was too soon,
and the other side was the same like butterflies.
Cocooned in symmetrical thoughts of the stars in your eyes.
It’s no surprise we both knew it all at that moment.
Our toes exposed naked in the sand and lost in emotion.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
Muck bit her ivory nightgown, as if earth hungering
after her...the delicate collapse of a napkin,she.
Hours poured atop her head, her shaggy, silvery
mane suspended--its reluctant bounce captured
at midpoint...as a spiderweb under ultraviolet light.
Desert sands lost in contemplation, reminiscent of
her flesh--divulge her core as she sleeps in a
fetal position.
Her body spasms awkwardly...its will visibly slowed
from initial motion.
As the paralysis experienced by prey amid the astral
annals of nightmares.
She'll rise into that shine, wonder at the nightmare's
symbology...talk to her garden--whilst thinking of her
time to come.
Silkworm breached the parcel
of time, its cocooned inertia
coarsed through the opalescent
eye of God to Godhood.
Of time's ruination redeemed
in a solitary work...cupped
airless the unbridled form of
a trapezist spent itself.
Opened and closed somersaults
atripped a piece of said space...
nothingness regenerated to
move, to take step of itself.
A self-argumentative abstraction
glowed...undid its silken flag--
firmly planted in an undiscovered
region...her time come.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 7:45 PM UTC
These little things with their little things
( aptly, like pigs in blankets )
sit in their little worlds with little minds
With little senses and little knowledge
they look at all things with little perceptions
and little understanding
cocooned in their little lives with little desired
and little expected
which means
A lot of time for self loathing, a lot of time frustrated
A lot of time depressed, a lot of time unfulfilled,
a lot of time for mischief, a lot of time for hating
a lot of time deluded. a lot of time wasted nursing delusions
a lot of time fantasizing writing deluded ********
a lot of time projecting their ignorance and in pain
a lot of time for anger, a lot of time for mediocrity
a lot of time for distraction, a lot of time to be nothing
but totally and completely foolish and repulsive
but
Spare a thought for ignorance is bliss
and misery needs company
how can the unloved want others to love
why would a little one wish to know a magnum is in action
why would the frustrated ******* want others to scream in
******** throes
why would little damaged things want happiness for others
why would restless frenzied things want peace and goodwill
when they are just little things with Ninety nine problems
and ******** helps hide their twitching
These little things, with their little minds
and their little lives
poor pathetic little things .........
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 9:04 AM UTC
one
by
one
they
came
no
light
no
candle
to
smudge
the
pure
darkness
children
of
the
shade
revelers
of
midnight
there
to
view
the
event
in
the
womb
of
blackness
moons
were
cocooned
awaiting
the
push
of
labor
~ stars ~
spent
with
their
urgency
await
the
impetus
that
will
send
them
spiraling
out
into
blue
and
gold
galaxies
to
scintillation
with
nebulae
and
so
the
event
the
faces
of
the
creatures
of
the
crepuscule
evaporate
the
moons
are
birthed
into
fire
the
stars
are
scattered
like
a
billion
billiard
*****
the
fabrication
that
was
matter
energy
space
and
time
is
no
more
^
< >
\/
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
what i said:
"you sound rough this morning."
what i meant:
"your voice is lavender and honey and tea time and supernovas colliding with gentle breezes and if i could wake up to it, just once, cocooned in a tangle of your arms and couch cushions and that blanket you keep in the back of your car, i swear by the stars in my eyes no one on this godforsaken planet would be out of earshot of my singing
i hope that tonight when i dream of you--it is no longer a matter of uncertainty, but anticipation--you speak like you've just overslept your alarm and frantically motored yourself to where i am, like is the case today.
i wish you had chosen me but if i could only listen to you speak to me, about anything--rivers or math homework or football or belonging or music or even your girlfriend--i promise i would listen with the beating urgency of a swimmer in a frozen stream, i would savor each word from your lips, like they were the spring and i was the underground daisy waiting for your kiss.
and in precisely three days i will have an essay to compose about a beautiful topic that would consume me thoroughly were it not for the memory of your groggy morning voice, so full of raspy complacency i can't breathe but instead of fulfilling my obligations i will be hashing out halfway comprehensible poetry about you and crying about how i cannot recreate the sound of your voice with any combination of hollowly clicking keys.
you are so beautiful that i could spend the remainder of my life with a five-subject notebook, scrawling 'your eyes. your smile. your hands. your voice' over and over endlessly and die feeling as though i had lived a thousand years of quiet adventure.
you are so much and too much for me and i have no idea why you see as much in me as you do but i will not question it, for fear that if i were to come too close to you, to run my fingers along the marvel of your face you would shrivel and unfurl into nonexistence, like the leaf in the fire."
and also:
"why can't your voice always sound like this?"
and finally:
******* you're attractive"
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC