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ryn Dec 2014
punched through
canvas of night

array of stars
strewn across
blanket of black

are my
Northern Territory

Like salve
to my
inconspicuous cracks
I can see more stars here than I ever could back home...
Incubus' "Wish You Were Here" came to mind.
Aaron Combs Apr 2015
The silver bullets we spread beneath our
eyes, those tears that burst into sparks.
I traded those tears for wisdom,
And the road to glory never seemed so vain.

Now seeing the blank walls in my room, and the sinking ceilings,
I feel there's so much to the world, but like the ocean  
it only leaves me thirsty.

So I trade wisdom for this.....

To hang upside down and see your smile,
to see the stars kiss and flicker in the summer heat,
to feel the rain that pours through your hair,  
to be blinded by your warmth in the Alaskan sky.  

This is wisdom, my dear.  This is wisdom.
Playing hide and seek in the night,
holding your hand while the stars fall.  Yelling our names into the sky.
This is  how legends live on.  Ruling the world with laughter,
and stupid jokes, laying on the blue green grass,
falling into the mud, till' the night is weary to see us at play.    

Holding the candle of your heart,
singing till' the sky falls to the ground.
Love, beauty, tiredness, poetry, interest
dmperez Dec 2016
delightful colorful
constellating memory warm
starshine in winter

message me for comments, complaints for anything :)

12/6/16 changed starshine of winter TO starshine in winter
Cné Nov 2017
T'was a month before Christmas and lights needed hanging.
The tree needed trimming, (my headache was banging).

"The stocking were hung on the chimney with care..."
While electrical chords, were strewn everywhere.

I unloaded boxes of tree decorations
And listened to carols from old AM stations.

"When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter...."
I hurried outside to see what was the matter.

Over-reaching the hedges, the ladder gave way.
And then I saw, in the bushes he lay.

After shocking himself with a faulty light socket,
His tootsie roll'd melted, inside of his pocket.

He stumbled and bumbled, untangling the strands
Replacing the burnouts and cutting his hands.

The ordeal was finished. At last! What a feat!
(Then one strand burned out, as we watched from the street.)
Tis the season
Onoma Jul 28
eyes closed and gently singing...

miles of buildings playing

musical lights with no one


perched on a rooftop, the wind

running her fingers through

my hair.

a child wild as ever, smirking indelibly

at concrete modules splattered by their

own brains.

taking in deep breaths of quality alert air--

and puffing out a dragon's fraught column

of fire.

gotta light it up just to see straight, passed and

through...make way, my scene.

a sort of rough draft being smoothed out, you see...

now i gotta fuck half this city to work your energy

out of me.
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