"hurtless" poems
Don't second guess the heart of holy ghosts. Don't recommend the books that seek your skin and heathen bones. Don't fall guilty of happiness and fraud or life or experience or jargon, or unlucky fines of brute crest mammals herding north. It's all in my head, tell me again.
Pointed knuckles seek the throne, seek help. Empty plastic bags bland the glit of coming phosphors, heat the shining thumbs of forty men. It's all in my head! I didn't see them work themselves to death, fall out hurtless among the chips ahoy box, resting empty on my carpet! Eat the herbs, taste the body, sing through nostrils geometrically still. Stare at your future, a grey dust bit, breezing circles on the window sill.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
Fluorescence taps the old barked cabin, flummery holds hand's with thickened butter, to be brother's of salted taste. Flummox civilians let plans go to waste, as hydracid's they've slithered to. Who's who? Hyaline force. For thine own porch is ****** in by thy thought's and huzza of goods! For the woods art there to freeith thou, but thine own self cut's them down as human pea-brain no ones!!! For someone is someone thine beast of emptied plaza.....
Hurtless thou couldst be. But thou art stuck in dreams, as reality thou hath made a second hand smoke.....
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
my
bones
could not stand
your strength; my
glassy veins
could not stand
being unhurt; my
damaged brain,
without knowing
what's good,
couldn't stand
being
okay
;
my
self
hasn't
learned yet,
what it means to
feel like i'm real in this
vile, horror circle of life
galloping through our
time, wasting time,
following time,
timing time,
feeling time, but
making our thoughts
to still remain
timeless
and
to
stand
hurtless
but my damaged
brain, not knowing what
is good, can never learn
how to feel good
how to feel real
how to feel
how to be
how
.
.
.
how
without
hurting
...yourself?
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
im going in circles
im living the dream
and life became hurtless
like image from film
my childhood back
im flying again
i never had loved you, i never felt vain
my world is created, from bits of my past
possessions are ashes, the people are dust
A child in forest, playing with sticks
like birds he is honest, and uses no tricks
i dream of a planet that has no despair
of fragrant green landscapes, of god that is fair
Feel power of nature, be power of life
where nothings forgotten, and nobody dies
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC