"impressively" poems
the art of poetry
like any art
produces better work
when writers are not only
erudite but also smart
the lovers' painful state
upon loss or desertion
is voiced much more impressively
with less dramatic flourish
and more of the grate
that finishes the sword
at the old blacksmith's fire
where the hot flame of our desire
thrown into water
with a defiant hiss
turns into deadly steel
ready to **** and ******
friend or foe or lover
in our desperate search
for exits from the mire
or take the unexpected loss
of victory that seemed so close
on a wild battlefield
when suddenly the hero's gallant steed
falls victim to a hostile archers shot
and its proud rider is reduced to shout
"A kingdom for a horse!"
rather than holding a long monologue
about the treachery of fate
in short
less is oft' more
and lets the readers fill the empty spaces
with their own images and graces
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC
Quaking Earth shattering Revolting
And I'm in the middle of it
My heart is at least
I didn't realize or notice that it got so big able to lumber out of my chest
I guess that's ok because I can't do anything about it
Just like I couldn't do anything about the fire rising up behind "me"
You aren't with me I don't get to hear your laugh anymore
Sprinkling down through ivy covered walls
You aren't with me
I've realized that a lot
But I also realize that when I get up in the morning
Or in most cases never going to sleep to begin with
The moon a lovely
Complicit pale lover
Never questioning me
Never worrying me
Listening when I need to talk
And instead of telling me what to do
Or telling me what I'm doing wrong
it just listens
I knew it wasn't a mistake when I fell for your pale face
It was a mistake when I started liking someone
Who's face didn't stay impressively passive when looking at me
It was a mistake to fall out of orbit
For someone who never wanted to be free
From the confines of gravity
To come into my sky
You know sometimes
I can still see your shadow
Just out of the corner of my eye
The way your hair would fall
How your eyes would even enrapture the sun
You aren't mine anymore
But the sun still deigns to rise
And the moon still loves me
I can't get back the love and adoration
I gave you over the past five years
And as I said I still see your shadow sometimes
But you aren't mine
And that's ok
Because even though you never cared
About being the meteor that knocked me out of orbit
I still cared about you being happy
Even when it wasn't with me
Even when it isn't with me
And each day since
I've gotten off of the ground
More and more
So thanks
For the broken insecurities
For the things that I never wanted
Thanks for submerging me into a vat
Made out of stress and emotional pain
Thanks
For the new sense of orbit
And the new outlook
And that sometimes
Dreams shatter
Possibilities shatter
But that's ok
Because when they shatter
The fractures
Lead to new doors
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 2:02 AM UTC
Growing up, my grandmother always tried to hold me back from the girl I thought was my best friend.
Her name was Society.
My grandmother made it very clear that I was not to associate with Society and so that is what I did
for a while.
By the age of 7 I had an impressively large entourage of friends, whose parents also steered clear from Society.
We watched movies, made hot chocolate and talked about our hopes and dreams.
However just because the light burns bright, doesn't mean it's going to burn forever.
By the time I was 11 our coterie had fallen through.
The more we grew, the less we would hear our parents.
11 years young, and completely detached.
All my friends were now strangers.
Society was the only one I had left.
I always desired to be equals with her.
I tried so hard until there wasn't any ME anymore.
I was caught in between fitting in with the world and becoming estranged from myself
Society dug up every last seed that all sane adults plant into their children.
Mum raised me to believe that every inch, every atom and every molecule inside of me was worthy of love.
Society had taught me to pinch and pull at my body, accusing every bump, every scar and every imperfection for being some of the many reasons I was alone.
Society led me to rip every mirror off of the walls of my life.
"You don't wanna see that" She would whisper.
She was wrong until she was right.
For every 1 thing I found to love in the reflection,
Society would find 3 things to hate.
Society had taken the sparkle from my eyes because the other girls couldn't see past the glare.
Society silenced the protest in my gut because there weren't enough people on my side
but as I moved on to better people
I realized she was all a sham
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
The rhythm of my heart
Beats with such musical intensity
Can you hear it?
So complicated the arrangement
Yet impressively expressive
To all who listen deeply
riveted by
the captivating elements
of LOVE
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
I wish I had was and were
in control
gained a power
over them
those wistful verbs
with too much
to do with my today
but if
and could are not very likely
to cause
my words to be
more impressively
effective
at changing
anything.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
to the girl
whose golden heart
was never tarnished
despite the afflictions
the world allowed her
to experience somehow;
♡ — i hope your heart stays the same
and will always be aflame
for the things you love doing
because dear, you are amazing.
to the girl
whose illustrious mind
was never obscured
even if she was aching;
♡ — i hope you realize
that you are impressively splendid
more than any could ever poetize
and that your feelings are valid.
to the girl
whose beautiful soul
never stopped blooming
like flowers in the spring
despite the adversities
she has encountered;
♡ — everything you do
is always appreciated;
and your existence
is a tremendous blessing
and adds vibrance
to this somber world.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
Forever and always she made herself stand,
holding on to nothing but an ever-fleeting hand
Relentlessly holding an already shattered man
She blinded herself with his over-sized fans
Impressively outspoken she was nothing like them,
she allowed herself to simply comprehend
Always will you assume that which you "know,"
but please understand, this wasn't any puppet show
Never before had she really understood,
rhetorically she screamed at the deafening looks
Praying for more then a stiff right hook,
asking her nicely to move more than a foot
Bending and curling, spinning and twirling,
her mother never dreamed one day she'd be swerving
silver-tongued, smooth as they come,
she found a puppet master with more ammo then guns
One by one he strung them through,
he controlled every move she tried to pursue
Never did he think his strings could fall loose
One day they did and he was left with a noose
Puppet Master, haven't you heard?
You cannot put strings on this wild bird
She'll shake and **** until she comes untied
And when she gets out she'll stay out for life
Tiny dancer, break free of his song,
you knew you could do better, all along
Remember its true, just believe you are strong
And never again can they tell you 'it's wrong.'
Don't stress the small stuff, just move on
His strings are hers, and you're better off
Believe what you say and say it every day
The book can't continue if you don't flip the page
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
There it was..
That heightened adventure that looked so bittersweet with all its bliss that I only had the opportunity to witness.
So, how would it be to actually feel it?
There it was..
Calling my name like a Siren,
Telling me to test the waters,
Convincing me that it's not too cold.
And She was right,
It wasn't cold.
It hit me,
Like the chemical reaction of a lit fire ******* about to pop off and explode into a million tiny pieces.
It hit me,
Like a dream.
I couldn't move but I could see and feel everything around me.
Every fiber of my body tingling with electricity,
With life.
I can do anything.
I am Alice in her Wonderland,
Exploring another dimension other than my known reality.
Dripping, so much drip.
I can feel my heart begging for more with each sulfur liquid that slides down my throat.
I can feel my mind exploding, taking Her in like somehow She belonged there.
My muscles clench, chills circle my legs and make peace on my arms where they claim their seat on this joy ride to insanity.
She has made me Her home,
And I welcomed Her,
a stranger,
to do with me as She pleases.
An hour, maybe 2?
She is drifting, like a ship sailing away to sea.
"Don't let me leave"
I hear Her whisper.
She is fading, fading too far out of reach.
"Stay with me"
She pleads, but I can barely hear her now.
I can't let Her go.
Up! Up is where I find Her.
I feel Her coming,
Running back into my veins.
Into my heart she crawls.
I can hear Her now, calling my mind to join this facade She has impressively created.
Not calling, but screaming.
Screaming so loud that I can't help but give in to Her game.
I'm rolling.
Rolling like a ball thrown down and endless street with no destination, no obligation to stop.
"I belong here"
She screams, grabbing ahold of my soul and intertwining Her fingers with mine like I am Hers for the taking.
(I am Hers..)
Lights invade my eyes.
Bright colors like the 4th of July.
I feel like I am falling.
(Am I falling?)
Numbness wraps around me, grabbing at my legs and knocking me down.
I'm being thrown in and out between realization and this fantasy but in that realization I see that it is Her.
She is taking hold of my chest, my mind.
I can't think about anything but this euphoria I am stuck in.
Standing on my legs so I can not move She hisses
"I have you"
If I let her I can die.
(Should I let her?)
An overdose and I am its host.
Her hands close around my throat.
(Do I dare let Her squeeze harder?)
I push, push through this trip I am so willingly taking and in response She screams in pain.
"Come with me"
I hear Her say and I stand telling myself I am okay.
I will not die today.
I will not die today.
Molly will not have Her way.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
My thoughts are merely a tangle of non-conformant
chemicals in an ultra-responsive setting;
echoes of scarcely delayed feelings,
millimetrically placed and ready to be felt;
remnants of cromagnon desires,
keeping me occupied, unassuming and tame,
while life rolls on silently, reflexively and impressively,
with all its humiliating nerve.
Rumination is for cows, guppies, and humans alike,
and saffrons, sapphires and the snow all reason in their own way,
no less conscious than our total unconsciousness.
Like a rock or plant, man is authoritatively ignorant of his ignorance,
and in his metaphysical realism lives and loves and dies,
without a clue that he never lived, never loved and was perpetually dead.
Thought’s true thought is to block awareness
by darkening the place where true awareness lies.
We think therefore we think:
to god (I mean exact-Nature) no other valid reason exists.
We conveniently overrate rationality
in self-serving cycles of chronic urgency and folly,
leaving us continually stuck to our cyclic fate.
Life is Nature’s grunt or roar
(whatever and the same)
all just a sound, faint or not.
We are unsubstantial and chimerical animals by excellence,
and in the circle inside the box we live in, our fancy appears really real.
As a feeling awaits its chemical fate, in the millimetric second that lingers,
whole worlds are imagined, and our universe and all is perceived:
violence, joy, depression, hope, and unbearable pain are unleashed,
cities are wanted, planned and assembled,
while man, impeccably and in turns, plays god, king and beggar,
and true lives, true loves and true deities are born.
As man progresses (i.e. transgresses his own nature)
and as he overcomes thought, word and feeling,
he ceases to be restrictively alive: he is released, he is now free.
Thought stands alongside feeling,
without communication nor vibration,
and gradually and painfully amalgamate into a new corrosive mix,
directly eating into spirit, flesh, and understanding,
until our wholeness wholly disintegrates.
The world as we know it folds upon itself, layer by layer,
in an inner spectacle of perfect annihilation and renewal.
The chasm separating man from himself contracts
(eventually to nil)
and man plunges from the edge of this last plank (4).
As he falls, in mid-flight,
the ultimate metamorphosis occurs,
and an übermensch is born.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC
Fighting for Freedom
Not my freedom
mine is not the
ludicrous "Freedom" you all worship
Not the steroid enhanced
the technologically advanced
the impressively entrancing
Spiteful, Ignorant
all-knowing, all-hating "Freedom"
that empowers you all to fear
anything different. The "Freedom"
that entitles you all to
subdue or eliminate everything
"not you",
Rather,
Anyone seen as a threat to
the mind-numbing culture
created by your "Freedom"
What Freedom?
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 12:41 PM UTC
You say you've got it all figured out,
got the science down at age nine-teen.
I roll my eyes, because that's just silly.
I'm older than you by a year at least,
but regardless, I watch you hitch your
skirt up and strap your heels on before
leaving the house. You think I'm crazy
to stay around only to meander about
in my fuzzy socks and stained sweatshirt.
I'll have you know that I actually quite
enjoy my one-women tea parties with
Ms. Austin and the Bronte girls on a
Friday night. At least I won't get a head
ache from strobe-lights and my utter
confusion when it comes to pretty-looking
cocktails. I realize I probably won't be
seeing you until midmorning anyway
when you stumble rather impressively
into the kitchens still in your club clothes.
You'll make a disgusted noise at my
pillow fort, my coloring books, my
towering stack of certifiable Disney
DVDS and I will pretend not to notice
that you smell like stale sweat, alcohol,
and aftershave.
You will feel compelled to tell me all
about him, all about them, all about all
of last night--down to the last disturbing
detail--and I will burry my face in my cereal
so you can't see the faces I'm making.
Undoubtedly you are bragging
(or so you think), but really, I'd rather
not have had so-and-so pawing at me
all night, because neither you nor I
know where he's been, and I personally
find no appeal in waking up in someone
else's unfamiliar room because my comforter
is super soft and fluffy and I feel like a
princess when I go to bed all clean
and cute in my PJs. This way I can get up
whenever I want and take a shower and
be loud and not have to put the seat up
when I *** or quietly try and find my way
out of someone else's home.
Also, I'm lazy most of the time so
I definitely wouldn't like the walk
home so early in the day. I have to say
that I much prefer my crayons to your
aspirin, my forts to your mysterious
bathrooms, my imaginary sword fights
to your hike home. Most importantly,
I like waking up regretting nothing the
previous the night except that I didn't
get to watch all of Mulan and what her
reflection really shows.
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
the drunken dancer
mingling between selves
a cocktail party for her pieces
her hips-
rhythm
her mind-
beats.
a bit of elixir
to smooth out the kinks
to rust through the chains
to flood through the pristine valleys
detached and forever
in(dependent) on the music
on her self
on her longing
for growth
only stars are supposed to explode like this.
not for the others
though they stare
impressively shocked
mindfully drooling
overwhelmed by her unknown
disconnecting disintegration.
she is a movement
she is a self
she is unwinding
her taste for freedom
hemorrhaging out
covering her
covering the night
in gold.
you have to know this feeling
for Dionysus himself watches and laughs.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
Many more steps to go.
Hardened feet.
No longer are my steps maligned by stabs of blood.
Condemnation . . . Damnation . . . Corruption . . .
My seasoned back launches into my perennial burden.
And another step I take.
Into an inevitable future of drudgery.
Hope . . . Exoneration . . . Absolution . . .
Have long been forgotten.
Their burnt ashes adorn my forehead.
My shoulder screams ahead, into the weight it upholds.
Rumble . . . Rumble . . . Rumble . . .
Each step like the millions before it,
thrusts the stone another foot towards the jagged peak
that towers impressively up ahead.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the day goes on.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the night lives long.
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
My war-torn muscles relax.
And the stone sits.
Stares at the valley below.
Lightning . . . Rain . . . Thunder . . .
The wind caresses and cajoles,
And the stone rolls down below, echoing Thor’s exclamations
And my heart leaps with joy.
After all, there will be another day.
And my feet have hardened anyway.
Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . .
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:03 AM UTC
I was twisting a water bottle
Shredding the label with my fingernails
And keeping it away from your enthusiastic dog
I’d been here before
And I would be here again
Holding back tears as an unlikely friend held me together
I had too many loose ends
And you tied knots with an engineer’s efficiency
For all your teasing
I’d never realized you were a nice guy
Taking me in like the silly wretch that I was
And letting me stay until I felt I could hold my head up again
I convinced myself I had you figured out
Tall and tough but secretly compassionate
A closet empath who impressively tossed words around a notebook page
I let everything bouncing around in my head
Tumble out into your scarred hands
And I assumed you had done the same
So that I could finally see the truth trapped in that lofty mind
It’s funny
I’ve come to realize that I never really knew you the way I thought I did
You’ve always played a concealed hand
Showing me the occasional queen of hearts
But only when you wanted me to see
It’s disappointing
Because you know me too well
I dissected my heart muscles so you could read the struggles scrawled across them
Sitting in your kitchen
All those days
I showed you all the insecurities etched across my skin
Raw and red and burning with the desperation
To be noticed
I wish I could have taken some of your scars
In exchange for all my scribbles
You patiently accepted all the scraps of myself I tossed at you
And I wanted to return the favor
I wanted to read whatever you had penned across your ventricles
I wanted you to flay open your mind so that I might understand
I may have wanted too much of you
Forgetting that not everyone is a frenetic tangle of feelings
Forgetting that I’m just a frazzled, insignificant girl
Who wants to save the world on force of will alone
Sitting in your kitchen
From time to time
You told me you believed in me
So I believed I could do it
I only wish I’d known enough to do the same for you
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 5:02 PM UTC
All our senses concatenate, building on each other
<>
this interplay is truly interplanetary,
for each of us a unique solar system,
our brains,
intricacy literally personified,
and our five senses, working
in
concatenation
our long range sensors, busy bees compiling inputs
by the nanosecond second, distilling, integrating.
blending and then reconstructing…into a whole!
*a gentle breeze ruffles the hair,
the tree swing rises and flows
of its own accord, no passported
passenger required, and a neighbor’s
American Flag, moves majestically &
impressively, whipping, dancing, yes, prancing
to a tune only it can hear,
the syncopated air currents providing
a rhythmic awesome inspiring beat…*
and the brain takes this all in, a momentary
second of a vista that is constantly flexing,
yet remains unchanged, a muscular view
of a real world, living but yet immutable,
and I utter thanks to my motor functions,
that bless me with the eyes to perceive,
the nostrils to smell sea salt flavored air,
the hearing ears that the know the imperceptible
orchestrations of silences by their absence
and their intrusion, and I touch my fingertips
to my tongue, wetted, and hyper sensitized
to that gentle breeze that decorates the
landscapes external,
*and the combinatory
addition of the all of it, into a single momentary
poem of recall, what I “knew” yesterday, & will
greet again this coming day, as an old unfamiliar
friend, who grasps me entire, and proclaims:
this is living…and the greatest satisfaction that
a speck of mortal can achieve, retain and
through impoverished words…share*
4:14am
Mon Jul 22
2 0 2 4
Jul 22, 2024
Jul 22, 2024 at 4:25 AM UTC
I was obsequious towards you.... opening up to you, I was an impressively sedulous suitor,
Didn't I constantly show my love; like a doting concubine,
yet never was I supposed to.
Did things I'd never wish to again do, You were always lethargic returning any affections.
You're constantly an exorbitantly cruel lover, on too many occasions you've left me; feeling, clinging, wishing & praying that your bitter tortures - would end.
Morbidly I'd crave you like a killer craves the death of his victim's.
Oh there's no end, no relapse or realse, my tormentor, my seemingly drug of choice--is you!
I sincerely felt a cordial love & dislike for how you've had me susceptible to this elegiac experience.
Unmerciful you cast away my heart and dealt my soul a mighty blow.
NEVER again would I be your willing victim, you're antipathies & archaic behavior leaves me wishing for a way out, since you've made me seem more like the enemy.
This love's a beautiful beast & so oblivious to my demise...
I'm still obligated....
I've vowed to stay, fight comes what may...
yet & still You make it clear I'm disqualified before a race could ever be won.....
Why?
My questions unanswered
as if I've never vocalized a retort!
IVE COME TO REALIZE THERE'S NO HOPE FOR ME
☆♡
Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
overwhelming sadness
to embarrassment
frustration
to embarrassment again
forgiveness
it does not make sense
to those around me
so I would rather bury
bury
bury
my overwhelming sadness
to not have to
convince
impress
prove
that I can move past
beyond
away from
the first time I saw her
but actually
it was the first time
Ive ever been seen
and my heart
with all its will
it became
as if vulnerable
took over the world
all of the sudden
existence
feeling
experience
love
the first and only time
she would ever prove
impress
upon me
the invincible human being
that we are the same
I will miss you
no matter how close
no matter how far
without dissociation
I do what matters most
I will have to be reborn
opportunities to sense
new feelings
forever
but I will still miss you
rebirth after rebirth
rebirth before rebirth
the first time I had a purpose
meaning
feeling
not
negating stutus quo
or agreeing to be it
Im sorry that I allowed you
to have this journey
I hope you can be strong
I know you can
I love you
more than anything
always could
express my sensitivity
creatively
impressively
gracefully
terrified
now
when my sensitiveness
is pouring out of me
for all to see
like a heart
without
a body
expressionless
cold
crying
mourning
after a lucid nightmare
and you are no where
the sadness is crippling
but I should be healed
at the least
do what is expected
further overwhelmed
unstoppable
in vulnerable’s world
sadness is the ruler
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
**
Hello Poetry.com is platform of all poets to show ideas and imaginations.
It creates and generates new poets with talent hunts.
From World wide country with wide thoughts of range from different minds.
Giving different opinions to each other and giving admirable reviews to each other's poem.
By sharing emotions and ideas they show there feelings impressively.
Every poet have distinct features,thoughts,ideas and presentation in their poem.
At last not least shows goes on and on, but it never ends it remains forever.
**
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
Wonders what you may think of me
Did you feel it? A slight tremor in the puddle of consciousness
I! ME! MY!
Mother and father. School. Society.
Impressively the walls were built
Brick by brick lain in ignorance.
It is just that subtle. The voice whispering in the mind
Who are you?
Enlightened to my own selfishness
A sense of meaninglessness
I shall overcome. I will walk the path of my choosing, and if any other (soul) shall join me I will share my allotted portion of love that this universe has granted me
The ego shed
IwasworriedaboutajobandagirlfriendandifImattertoanyoneatall
The walls crumble and I am free now to taste beauty of each moment.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
You demand that we stop waving our arms about
While talking or whenever I do the 3-legged downward dog
That reminds you of being abused in another life
I know you recognize the delivery man as the abuser
Who you bark at fiercely, relentlessly
Just as you always growl jealously at Hazel, our neighbor's dog,
Despite her best efforts to be your friend
I see the wolf in your eyes when you're stalking lizards
Running, unleashed, leaping impressively from a standstill
Unsupervised in what substitutes poorly for wilder places
In our Florida backyard
You stare accusingly whenever I talk on the phone
Demanding to be heard, too
You hear and smell things I cannot imagine
Long before they reach my ordinary ears and nose
I see you cannot stop digging that hole
Next to the patio in my wild grasses garden
You eat the finest organic dog food
But prefer something dead on the path
During your afternoon jog to the beach
With Bill, so dismayed, that you enjoy smelly rolling
Though you endure your punishment, a scrubbing in the shower
Just to cuddle with Bill on the couch all clean and loved
I command you to COME HERE when doing yardwork
Ignoring me, you trot off towards Federal Highway
Or slip through the hedge when I’m weeding-you're a wily one
Hoping for wolf adventures like the ones in your dreams
Those that turn scary, maybe you get pounced on
When you're making terrifying yelping sounds
And trembling uncontrollably
Waking us all up, leaping up on the bed
Scooching to a safe haven between us
Beseeching, "Hold me, squeeze me, say it's OK for me to be here!"
Hugging you Bill says, "It's OK, there there, he's a good doggie."
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC
You're devastatingly spectacular and I'm impressively subpar. We are like the sun and moon, we cannot exist under the same sky in unison but rather a shooting star merely crossing paths under brevity as we soar in our solo sky.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
every mattress is an opportunity
every location
every patch of grass or mud puddle
i could kiss you anywhere
-it's june 16th i guess and my teen angst has a mind of its own
in the sense that i'm ridiculous
but also trying to use it as validation that i might just need to take care of myself
or maybe tell a doctor that i feel like lighting my arm on fire sometimes.
I'm convinced it's normal (because it is)
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
I love the way you put your stupid
hipster glasses on the collar of your
band t-shirts to fix your straight yet
messy brown hair that you haven't
washed in a week with a thick black
hair tie that you hate to wear on your
wrist when you don't need it because
it's so bulky so you put it in your front
pocket next to two strips of emergency
gum and a can of altiods which you
finish in a day and replace at night
I love when you air guitar in the
middle of Froyo Joe's most likely to a
song on The Front Bottoms CD you're
playing on your Walkman you got at
that one thrift store and everyone
stares at you then stares at me staring
at you, smiling and laughing so much.
And I love how you bow in the most
exaggerated way that anyone could
ever possibly bow because you air
guitared so impressively (you should
definitely start yourself a band) that
the unexpecting audience applauded
you for that marvelous performance
which definitely made their evening
And I love the way you look at me in
the train car when you're dragging me
to the next town because you finally
have enough money to go to the little
store that has the same name as that
one author you love and buy the
vintage coat that smells like moths and
depression because you want to wear
it and feel like a 1923 troubled rich
woman during an early midlife crisis.
I love when you tell me the things you
love about me at 3 a.m. in this diner
after you read to me that God-awful
poem about a woman who hates
shampoo and listens to blue grass
during all her classes and we're sitting
in this diner where all the food tastes
horribly like canola oil and salt and
I am immensely in love with you
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 7:29 PM UTC
delicate moths wish
to kiss
your oxygen-eating fingers,
as you gently consume
sun-dried limbs
of monster-trees.
your dear children,
born of the plant flesh
you disintegrate,
dance on the whistling breeze.
should one of your young
dare to tiptoe
on brittle blades
of winter-deceased grass,
she will grow
more impressively
than you,
her mother.
she will indulge
in tender gluttony,
softly swallowing whole
the homes
of woodland denizens.
conceived of woodpecker houses,
her own daughters
enter the world,
spread their mother's warmth,
just as your sweet baby
did with yours.
and forever you burn.
Nov 22, 2024
Nov 22, 2024 at 12:08 PM UTC
Beautiful flowers grew from behind the house
Where never a flower once grew.
The wonder was my troubled mind tossed in a long wave of troubled waters....
for never a flower grew in my father's backyard
as impressively green
to a flourish of protruding beaus of freshly upturned earth.
Perhaps thee beautiful flower that sprouts
From earth in father's backyard is father
Painting flowers on his own piece of earth.
Unbeautiful you death.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 4:48 PM UTC