"concluding" poems
If we were the kind of friends who unironically
raised our glasses in toasts,
I would give one to the generation too comforted by the ease
of a honeybee in the plaintively nonexistent mind
of a tulip
To the generation, or at least its subset
that wrongly feels representative, who stumble drunkenly
or maybe just tiredly out of tents
to **** in the view of their friends, who are still at the fire
because the tent was too cold
To those who did raise their glasses in a toast
on New Year’s Eve at what felt, with the ball drop
not screening in luddite protest, enough like midnight.
Beginning with “dear friends” and a couple laughs;
concluding with “now let’s get ****** up” and
a couple more
To those who proceeded
as directed, clinking their shot-glasses
and swigging them back. If only because
they were not tulips.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
..life is full of life
like a magic land full of wonders,
like songs whose notes go high and low,
with lines which rhyme to make a flow!
and whole experiences in life goes just like a wind's blow:
soft yet swift, silent yet clear.
It begins,continues and may even end well only if you put forward a virtuous life indeed.
All you need to be away from is the poison tree
which fed Adam and Eve.
Look away!
It may be placed in the center of your life too.
You may find it the most glossy and glittering today.
Bowing to this may keep your head held down forever.
Know this fact for a sinless life
All the tempting trees yield fruits sour & reel
you'll stumble,totter,wobble & falter!
Then'll you realize fasting away this fruit was better.
But by then you'll lose paradise forever and fetter!
So let us all not reach to this concluding our lives should have a better ending.
which is to be more certain,graceful & dutiful.
Cos we live only once but it should have the worth of tons
Life'll help you do that..As "life attracts life"
BEAUTIFULLY ,ENORMOUSLY & PERFECTLY!!
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
2018
Does it necessarily called sad even when there's no tears?
Does it necessarily called scar even when there's no mark?
Does it necessarily called pain, even when it doesn't show?
Heart.
Break.
Heartbreak.
I am used to hearing this word on a daily basis.
Maybe a little too often, but my point here is, everyone knows someone 'utters' that they are in a heartbreak once in a while.
So, what is heartbreak to you?
"When someone can't keep their promises while they have the chance to." —Alessandra A.
"Uncertainty." —Samuel Wijaya
"Friends who leave." —Vivian Loo
"Being a disappointment." —Ryon Regasa
"When the butterflies are no longer there." —Calvina Izumi
"Seeing him smile, but I'm not the reason." —Anonymous
"When someone you love, has another name in his/her heart." —Evadne Richard
"When an effort to love can't be seen anymore because it is sealed shut by a mistake." —David Halim
"When you finally meet someone you love sincerely and somehow they start distancing themselves, and you don't even talk to them anymore and you don't even know why."—Natasha
These are some opinions from my friends that probably represent some/most of your thoughts about a heartbreak, at least describe what comes first to your mind after hearing that word.
And those opinions also described mine, and mostly represent some of the heartbreak(s) that had occured in my life.
Now,
concluding all the opinions above
How would I myself define what heartbreak is?
I would define it as an invisible yet irresistible pain.
Headache is a type of pain.
And heartbreak is also a type of pain.
But we all know that both of them are completely different.
When you're having a headache, you know exactly where it hurts.
But when you're having a heartbreak, it just hurts.
You don't know exactly where the pain came from,
even when some referred to their chest ('cause it's where their heart is) or anywhere else, it's actually just the side effect of having a heartbreak itself.
Just enough explanation to state that heartbreak is like a nowhere and everywhere type of pain.
You can't see and you can't know where it hurts, but it's real. As if it was invisible as it is uncertain.
Just because you can't really point out where it hurts, doesn't mean it's not there.
And another thing about heartbreak is, you can't resist it. No matter how hard you try.
There is no painkiller for your heartbreak, and even if you use something as a pain killer (such as alcohol?), it doesn't necessarily works as one.
It doesn't make the pain go away, it just distracts you from what you're feeling, temporarily.
It shifts your attention and feelings into something less noteworthy for a moment, and then the next day the pain is still going to be there.
You can try to resist it, but only time that can make all of that fades.
And even when it fades, it doesn't go away.
It never will.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 9:11 AM UTC
sometimes i wish
you'd see beyond
the color of my eyes
and the cloth wrapped around my head
i wish you would
think of me as an individual
put away my appearance
and regard me as a person
my thoughts matter
my ideas aren't all bad
i have opinions
and i choose to speak my mind
if only you would
listen to my words
and try to comprehend what i'm saying
rather than focusing on my accent
and the way my lips curve when i speak
the cloth on my head
does not rid me of ideas
it does not limit my mental capabilities
it does not lower my tolerance
*have a debate with me
spark a conversation*
instead of complimenting my smile
compliment my mind
instead of assuming that my beliefs are enforced upon me
*ask me what i believe
ask me what i value*
tell me what you base your morals on
*question me
give me counterarguments
talk to me*
instead of staring at me
and making biased assumptions
already concluding who i am
and where i come from
before you've even
said hello!
i am not just the color of my skin
i am not just the size of my thighs
i am not just the design of my clothes
i am not just the price of my purse
i am not just the pattern of my headscarf
i am not just the length of my nails
i am not just a body
i am a mind
i am a heart
i am a soul
i am my theories
i am my thoughts
i am my perceptions
i am my opinions
i am my viewpoints
i am my objectives
i am my purpose
i am my outlooks
i am my intentions
i am my reasons
i am my perspectives
i am my choices
i am my principles
i am my ideologies
i am a thinking, feeling, living, stimulated, motivated, inspired being
i've got a world inside of me
take a look see
before you choose to pass judgment on me.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
My work day woke to Monk,
the click of typing keys,
clock watched, Spotify playing,
random thoughts rose like bees
to freeze in these jagged lines,
then swarm in threatening flight.
Hours of data entry later,
on a stool, in a bar, a clock's
hands tock, I flick a wrist,
and slur my words concluding
an anguished monologue,
“They call it work, you know.”
Awash at home, in the strobe of
pixelated panel light,
visions surge and dissipate
with the pulse of the night. Osip,
were you tempered to embrace
attention’s fugitive caress?
You etched memory’s texture
with candle soot for ink,
and the gulag’s blackened gaze -
I type lines by hunt and peck
humming Monk’s WELL YOU NEEDN’T,
hoping for an adequate phrase.
Copyright © 2004 Gary Brocks
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:38 PM UTC
Cricket is the only game which lures me so much;
And then engrosses me so much.
That craze would never drive out of me…
My inspiration was ‘Yuvraj Singh’,
Only then I arose to identify that King.
Once Yuvi’s record of six sixes in six *****
The firmament was incredible for certain minutes:
That was the first time I witnessed cricket,
And India’s triumph provided me a mind-blowing buzz to watch cricket,
Nevertheless continuing with ***** and wickets.
I would turn crazy when Indian cricketers approach the ground,
And that would certainly not halt lest they are made proud.
This T20 shadowed by IPL,
Made me to by stand that awe-inspiring sport.
Chennai Super Kings-my favorite,
Followed by Royal Challenges Bangalore …
And lots more hilarious teams and cricketers.
When Chris Gayle approaches…
Tsunami warning must be lifted and “Gayle” (gale) warning must be given!
That’s how cricket relocates…
Most matches concluding in the closing over
And some others in the finishing ball…
The most exhilarating sport
Read more →and the format-
IPL is all fun for me…
With cheer leaders and the draped studio;
With cameras and videos
And at last the much awaited IPL trophy-
Cricket is all that it needs!!!
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
every mistake i make
opens yet another canyon in the ground,
and just as i begin to hesitate,
you tighten your grip.
every mistake i make
ends up with you disappointed
and me with
double-sided thoughts so sharp
they could ****
and yet every time
i come to the same concluding solution of-sorts-
does it hurt me more to stay
or hurt you more if i left?
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 8:25 PM UTC
She watches a firefly dancing
in the pretty, sorrowful darkness.
She’s a moonflower clinging to her dream,
singing songs of love and magic.
A mystical vision in the radiance of night,
in her concluding silky, passionate glide upon the deathless sky,
in her deepest grief,
some blissful dreams arise.
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 10:34 PM UTC
The undeniable sense of presence, seen through the realms of deception...
Amidst the very capillaries strung infinitesimally throughout our bodies...
Overwhelming at times, the very concept cripples our thoughts,
Circling us back to seemingly endless questions -
Endless roads without a point of reference,
Leaving us standing in a dark crowded space searching for the unreachable light...
Yet, the meaning behind the unseen presence forces the deluded mind to forge on -
Stretching our morbid ideals even further...
Leaving us the inhibited beings we possess...
Still concluding at plebeian answers -
Fitting, yet discouraging...
The common capacity of our restraining thought process, leaves us almost hopeless to accumulate the information needed to fulfill our determining destination...
But it is that feeling,
That inkling sensation of the undeniable presence that keeps us searching -
That gives us hope...
And in that minute innovative state we dwell on what could be...
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 9:05 PM UTC
allocation of supreme alliteration illustrates perpetual contemplation and concentration that dictates a maligned mastication of federal incarceration of elongated complementary probation leaving you cuffed and based on baseless accusations conducted in aboriginal abbreviations masked task force concluding a course of brevity conducted in coordination then coordinating and copulating condemnation for a homeostasis of thought bought scolded eroded and shot inefficacy perpetrating cultural holocaust irrelevance somersaults galactic static of mathematical bombastic smack addict glued shut in a craft attic floral resurrection gartered section of ****** selection she moves fluid through unaltered perfection of cosmic bypass past the point of extemporaneous infinitude reciprocating fortitude of sinews congregating fabricating visuals of vitality soldering axonal membranes on the cerebellum and cortex simulation of sensual vortex demented fusion more blessed I am that which stands to understand the incomprehensible unconsidered options of racial conflicts the screaming round of unaltered copper fiber severing life from the living only now can we debunk the years
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
I watched the snow descend to earth
Attention sought as flakes give birth
Submit to all her majesty
Surrender clouded canopy
A freezing fox that runs across
The curtilage wild turkey's toss
A lofty oak tree hides raccoon
Two fledgeling birds lose their platoon
The strapping deer takes off in flight
See squirrels flee with all their might
An Owl concluding calls of whoo
The animals know too eschew
All happens when the snowflakes fall
Am spellbound by one flake or all
The memory each one contain
Unique like us and our domain
Snowflakes and animals I see
We all are different you and me
Is random chance its proximious?
Creation not dichotomous
Am thankful I could see this view
And freedom too believe it's true
_______________________________________________
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
There's a virulent disease
inside him. It pervades every
where. It invades him. The
toxic cells exist in every nook
and crevice. He starts wondering
whether his soul and body will
suffice and live through the
brutal treatments that await.
Radiotherapy or chemo. A
part of himself could be lost in the
pomposity and elaborateness
of the machines used to do so.
He lies on the bed, surrounded
by the ostensibly loved ones
who mourn now and who hated
him once. He looks back at
his life and feels that getting
back to his healthy, strong self
is a chimera. Days pass and his
bed is his sanctuary. The reports
from the doctors arrive and he is
all but stationary. He finds the
concept of reports funny. They
determine life and death in a
second and after that, life could
be jubilant or miry with hopelessness.
The reports clearly indicate that
"cancer was not detected". He
scoffs at the elaborate medical
language and sits back and
relaxes, concluding his close
call with death and an emotional mess.
Not letting the intimidation and
sinister nature of the diseases get to him.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
i found myself last night whispering your name under the shield of my duvet, willing myself to pronounce every syllable of your name to the darkness of my room. i looked up to the plastic stars on my ceilings, remainders of the childhood i once had, and said it:
“yoon. jeong. han”
every syllable clear and true.
and it occurred to me,
how beautiful your name was.
“yoon” — the moon and the whistles of the wind, lulling me into dreamland.
“jeong” — a masculine edge.
and finally, the concluding “han” that returns it into its original softness.
clean milky way.
i’ve never expected to fall for a boy with your name. but i’ve always been fascinated with the universe and all the bright lights surrounding our blue planet. so i guess, it is only fitting for me to fall for a boy whose name means “clean milky way”
so i whispered your name over and over into the night.
yoon jeonghan.
yoon jeonghan.
yoon jeonghan.
until the taste of it becomes as familiar as the quiet.
and i swear, i saw the plastic stars on the ceiling growing brighter with every syllable.
i whispered and whispered until i fell into morpheus’ charm, and awoke with a new realization:
your name is my favorite sound.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
We reside in a circus tent
strung with Goldilock's curls
Blood-red rose petals drizzle
from flesh-tinted ceiling drapes,
floating over
bodies reborn.
Blood-red rose
petals the color
of a lion's heart that beats
rhythmically,
imprisoned in the ivory-white
cartilage of a rib-cage
close to cracking,
threatening
an untamed liberation.
Who has enough audacity
to draw so near
to trust his head
between unpredictable jaws
or
tinseled with moths
to dance
illuminated by street-lights,
like snow that never falls.
Now she is laughing
with ethereal camaraderie
at the physicality
of Earth reality
illuminating
how limited vision is
before the lights start flashing
human and star dissolve
as explosively
irreversible chemical reactions
The ringmaster,
tossing Saturn's turn,
a voice like wind-chimes
an honest sparkle in his eye,
welcomes one to roam
where hearts dance freely
in ever-lasting starlit flame,
Concluding:
As long as we thank love for feeling
we'll never fall again.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 2:43 PM UTC
“and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
Walt Whitman
<>
having recently been on standby for a permanent-entry residency visa
to over & just beyond death’s door, Walt’s prescient prescription strikes my broken breastbone even harder much, than the persistent
periodic pains confirming the breaking and the healing
of this man’s mending of the human centric poetic *****
for this warped heart mine, now rejoicingly rejiggered with some threads and wires to deliver a new but fresh bloodied wisdom,
begs me, eggs me to torrent word streams, but Whitman’s wisdom cautions a new slowness, the wisdom of mortality’s hot breath urges careful consideration of every letter that my second chance, consignment shop flesh, eagerly embraces, to both prescribe and proscribe inside-insights tween the deafening sounds of eyelashes beating synchronized to the revived heart rates rapid renewal and
last second-chances….
torn tween minute torso sensations and the running silence of
a new battery’s internal rapid intervals, the silent timing gaps tween beats leaves-just-enough-space to ask over and over again,
from whence will come my richest fluency? (1)
at 300am, I lay carefully caressing and chewing well each transitory
thought, absent the former energetic ability to just spill,
though highly desired,
now requires, like me,
steady re-piecing together
the steady drumbeat of now-nearer-my-god-than-thee Titanic reflections
demands a slowing rapidity
this I thought before and now ken, even and ever better, that our primary endeavor shall always be the giving, the disbursement of the act of love…for therein lies the healing of each, and wet eyes,
make necessarily concluding this poem about nothing and everything
and I comprehend Walt’s dictum:
my very flesh is a poem,
every sensation a lyric,
every breath taken and returned to the atmosphere
so unconsciously
are my oldest
and newest
3:00 AM poetry companions
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 4:41 PM UTC
fool-proof umbrella
covering protégé
adorning brilliance
no purple moments
folly forgotten
iniquity barred
fountain-pen spills
in lampblack Indian ink
when letting go
rose bush on fire
in the mountain
claims
rock-hard granite
heat melting
higher meeting..so fleeting
concluding well
deep
sans senses
catch scent
wrapped in sound
sudden arrival
rivers flow yet endless
such relief exquisite
still
not quite
fruition
not yet..
four leaves wait
count a quarter
at a time
yet fretless time
caught in veins
of
chlorophyll dreams
time to fill
maturation
to come..
to plant seeds
into blazing buds
just
not yet..
S T, 13 June 2013
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Comets or meteors?
Perhaps they're like rooks and crows
“Where there's a rook there's a crow
“Where there's crows there's rooks”
To be one amongst a shower, a storm of meteors
Hurtling through the emptiness of infinity
Protected by the confidence of knowing
That we and our equally frenzied fellow travellers
However far we hurl ourselves
Flashing by through all the vastness
Looking tiny and bright like a fireside's sparks
Consumed in a stampede, burning up and soon to be lost
Are in fact racing along a familiar orbit
That could last as long as a million years
Which all too soon will pull us back to where we've been
A familiar sight, overlooking what we've already seen
Or to be a lonely meteor
Deserting the pack, distracted by some new attraction
Sampling a novel atmosphere, hardly aware
Of the flames gathering round
Till the grip that was a comfort
That was such a pleasure to be caught by
Loses its interest or changes its intent
Returning the wanderer to the emptiness
Or turning a journey of exploration
Into a pitiful conflagration
With a final pathetic fall
Messy and destructive to all
That witness the meaningless call
Of that misguided journey's concluding bump
Well, I don't know if this is good science
And hope not to be subject to such violence
Shooting stars may enjoy applause from those below
But I'll see it all from here, and adore the moon's glow.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
Controversy started over the images this device receives. Hormones control this impulse, she's making each ***** convulse, and I can tell I'm still in love by the palpitations of my pulse.
Thus, proving that her actions indicate the prequel to her return. Her affection distant but still yearn, expressing sentiments, guess I'll never learn, spoken without biting my tongue
and now it's your turn.
Conquer hearts and take over,
**** her off when I'm not sober,
**** her off when thoughts become somber, **** her off when I say I won't be here much longer, **** her off for many reasons, **** her off once during every season and **** her off the most when in myself I stop believing.
Her perfection an extension of accessible recollection, to the woman who despises the notion of wearing articles of clothing.
Not the best at displaying her emotions, so in combination the words she's chosen seem broken, unable to withhold the growth of sentiments cut at the root, and as they now reproduce, sunflowers inhabit her garden and all the revelations of truth.
Lapse of time passes, lasting longer
than activities that involved
me being on her.
Inappropriately timing events perfectly.
Summer seems to have visited me in the fall, her memories now more than ever I recall and wishing I wasn't missing the woman who had it all.
Concluding it's a blessing, for continuing to have your presence present, writing by only depending on your recollection, and since poetry is my obsession, make new memories with me as I practice the act of ceding back to a former possessor, definition of recession.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC
Like rivulets of rain on a window
Conjoining into pools on the sill,
Or like lines of cement between housebricks
Converging at corners,
These two families, separated by an aisle,
At the point between two softly shaking hands
Are colliding.
We of the confetti and white roses,
We of the jewellery and pressed trousers,
We of the suppressed tears and aching smiles
Are considering
The beauty of a moment when gold envelops finger:
The signal that an uncertain journey through love
Is concluding.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
600
It troubled me as once I was—
For I was once a Child—
Concluding how an Atom—fell—
And yet the Heavens—held—
The Heavens weighed the most—by far—
Yet Blue—and solid—stood—
Without a Bolt—that I could prove—
Would Giants—understand?
Life set me larger—problems—
Some I shall keep—to solve
Till Algebra is easier—
Or simpler proved—above—
Then—too—be comprehended—
What sorer—puzzled me—
Why Heaven did not break away—
And tumble—Blue—on me—
2k
Running for a thousand places
Running for my very hide,
Running to obscure the traces
Run from those I can’t abide.
Pursued by the claw of guilders
Pursued by the Bank of Greed,
Running from the Ruin Builders
Run from those whose lust is need.
I’ve worked to build a modest holding
Worked to feel a pride secured,
Family of love enfolding
Sanctity midst world endured.
Feel manipulations brooding
Moneys lust does intervene,
Those who have it all, concluding,
What is mine is theirs to glean.
Claw back by manipulators
Claw back by the fiends of greed,
Implacable cold calculators
Cut with Law to make me bleed.
Running for a thousand places
Running for my very hide,
Run to flee pursuing faces
Run from that I can’t abide.
Anguish at my walls collapsing
Wailing of my bride’s despair
Futility’s tomorrow lapsing
Monstrous as it flails me there.
Standing in a freezing stillness
Standing in this hall of time,
Forlorn in a prisoned illness
Greed has vanquished me and mine.
Marshalg
For the forgotten people who have been ruined by those, who call themselves the mighty.
Auckland N.Z.
9 February 2013
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC
Absolute abomination is abortion
Betraying baby bodies ending up brutally Buried
Concluding a life currently forming
Death all up in your stomach
Energy draining decision, a life ending before a beginning
Fetus fates determined by lawmakers lacking empathy
God crying at the death of his creation
How will you feel when you face the face of those you aborted
Ignorance made you feel important
Judges slam hammers making decisions to determine the value of a fetus
Killing innocent humans not thinking about their futures
Life feels pain as those we let go still live within
Mistakes made should never end up in blood
No one will know you tell yourselves, but God knows all
Opportunities oppressed, always end up leaving you depressed
Pain within makes you go insane, nightmares of old scars
Quite homes, cold hearts, broken souls of bodies that were torn apart
Raw emotions of killers live in their insecurity, just listen closely
Silence entertains the minds which live in regret from taking lives
Tomorrows full of sorrows
Unmatched emotions with lovers that went astray
Value life and life will value you
Weapons forged in your feeble mind tell you to fight for your rights
X-rays of broken hearts hidden behind broken bones
You played God, you killed to avoid pain, now your soul dies hard
Zest for life diminished as sorrow takes charge
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 10:21 AM UTC
Churning
Boisterous to me life a high powerful stormy sea will I ever see land again those peaceful
Dales the trees so deeply rooted in there canopy the swaying seems as undersea waves so softly they
Stir as at play deep valleys and hills below above aluminous sun light makes a rich glow in its tow I go
Ever so slow the sea grass moves in a musical undulating fashion the same as the grass on the plains
Colors diverse with coral markers at depths that unrest at the surface doesn’t reach the frothing foam
As it were a great goblet filled for god to drink a offering of thanks for such wonder that can be a
Complexity at once filling heights of emotional strands then instantly terrifying foreboding illustrious
Without equal so vast stretching all the bounds you have ever known by the sea blown tales that are
As voluminous as the sea itself adventure in the raw highlighted with charm by the cawing of the seagull
With the same speed they dive and climb on the surface races the dolphin the embodiment of joy and
Laughter the sea rescuers has been some of their duties to the blessing of many lost mariners in cold
Chilly waters these bubbly ones was the difference between life and death the sea does spray as with
Glory unbound in this all concluding vesture that is seamless all consuming tiring but invigorating once
The sea salt has entered your blood there is no escape its lore hypnotic unbreakable break waters will
Carry you inland by that she granted your greatest desire after she has reared her head and gave you
The Undeniable look at deaths watery jaws but when on her mercy you survive or in some fashion are
Flung on the shore you lose your emotional tiller and blubber like a baby then the manly part curses all
She Put you through you know one thing for certain never will she catch you a float but little do you
Know her winsome call withers all about so you hungrily crave the sea tossed tempest its excitement is a
Drug that a ****** has no cure for it puts robust living in your path all of your days while the timid land
Dwellers only look on in awe and admiration
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:54 PM UTC
A bright light blinds my gloomy brown irises as the extended recoil continues to burst semi-automatic rounds through my chest cavity,centimeters away from the beating pulse keeping me alive. Never saw the irony in playing with fire until the last fraction of my soul abated the spark between two lover's bloom, only to suppress my impending doom. When the concluding bullet down the sixteen inch barrel fires perpendicular to the ground, horizontally to my heart, my ribs rupture, my world blackens, a shrapnel of fragments spread as my soul is shattered. My face streaming poisonous black tears of a lonely being receding to the new found resting place. A soulless figure laying parallel to the frigid solid concrete with a slightly conscious mind. I extend my hand in her direction, glancing one last time at the silhouette figure standing above me. She mutters, "it's over" then fires two hollow point bullets, one in my head, one in my heart, my eyes motionless, my breath non-existent. All that remains is a shadow, roaming the earth with no aspiration, with no more love to give.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
A canary sojourned my garden
The hunger whispering from its eyes
Greeting my palm with
Affectionate nibbles of gratitude
whilst circling the symmetries
of my palm
it sprang forth in merriment
a concluding chirp transpired
and away it flew
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 6:35 AM UTC