"maven" poems
I lied by the sea,
far away from the ebb-
uncared, untraceable,
a heap among the mounds.
You came to me first,
And then joined in she,
both squatted by me,
started the play with me.
Never can I forget,
the first caress-
I know not, yours or hers,
but it was like heaven.
Your juvenile dreams,
naive imaginations,
bestowed on my otiose self,
by your seasoned skills.
Grain upon grains,
both made me proud.
Not conforming to a flaw,
meticulous maven masons.
When your hands tired,
she backed you up.
While she was ******
you tended her to health.
Finally, I stood tall-
an Olympian castle.
Both were beguiled,
I would never be happier.
And, then came the storm,
Satanic vibes infested the air.
I couldn’t fathom what befell,
you were furious, she was crying.
Raised voices, clenched fists,
intimate moments castaway,
I stood a meek witness,
while a relationship was severed.
Came along the lunar surge,
I was wiped away without a trace.
Both stood distant from the other,
watching me fall, filled with remorse.
Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 9:15 AM UTC
******* at tickling the ivories,
at inducing the jet buttons
to chortle, say, in a concerto ;
but I do strum and flirt
with those amazing royal,
88 unrepentant loyal
keys for Jupiter and Saturn,
for Mars and Neptune,
making a blank bland tune
for extraterrestrial beings for fun.
On the cosmic moors
the moon's whirling feet
cease for my discordance.
What a slurred entrance
by F in D major!
Only a novice--an amateur.
I'm no magnificent pianist,
O majestic Mercury.
Summon the stars the search
to lead for a supreme virtuoso,
one of no incongruent ingenuity
like this dilettante--a pseudo
music polymath, counsels Thebe.
A Mozart, Beethoven, or Bach?
Any of the greats scored above, as well
as geniuses like David and Handel.
Impressario fly! Flee thou away
and go get a classic maven.
Otherwise sleep there forever at Erebus,
never dream of waking up in Eden.
Circuitous world stops: strings break off
at the Earth's axis--
the Sun's panels pause
and darkness' movement begins
its own obscure notes to improvise:
apace demented melody
is released,-- bathos of symphony:
tinny wine of concord
settles on the lees of discord.
Asteroids hooting some ***** calls
when into the grand chrysolite chamber--
in her tailor-made blistering gown--
strolls in the coruscating Venus
in the sturdy arm of jaundiced Uranus,
garbed in his glistening stomacher.
Like a ball, all eyes are bouncing
hither and thither, up and down,
googling and ogling,
once more at them leering,
gaping at the irreplaceable paintings of
da Vinci, Picasso, and Van Gogh
cavorting upon the weightless walls
to the romantic performance of Strauss
in the palace orchestral of Bacchus.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Tænk dig
at stå der og se det smukkeste i verden, når du stirrer tomt i kolde vandpytter.
Fordi du ikke kender til andet.
Tænk dig
at efteråret sidder i dine krageben. Dit betonsind.
Dit vinylhjerte føles palperet af kulde,
at du har skadedyr i maven.
Tænk dig
at være anopsi-(tist) og alt du ønsker er at være en aerobe
der lever af kaffekunst; men dit sind søber i inkurabel mercury
Du inficeres af revolutionære misbrugere af forandring.
Tænk at du ikke kan andet
end at lade fremmedlegemerne borer i dit sind
Tænk at være et segment af dig selv
at dit deoxyribonucleic er forkert.
At gå staccato rundt.
Tænk dig at forsvinde.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
This forced swinging from high to low
with emotion as my rope;
Perhaps but to fall, the ebb and flow
of a drama of a grand scope:
-
Midnight and the moons resounding note
waning like memories of her caress,
Then-
"Thy soul be sundered; thy life 'tis smote-
Your love 'twas simply in jest!"
Fearfully I cried under a frightful duress-
"Who art thou, wicked seraph! Fiend indeed!!
Why, why should you call my distress?
In my hour of loss, my hour of need?"
It then said, 'Thy know, thy soul I read-
Blasphemer! Defiler of a chaste life!
Sin tis your cover, desire your breed,
To be covetous of anothers wife!"
Furious was my speech - "Take thy seraphic knife,
Let us clash, I shall not fall!
Thou art simply a portent of strife;
Thou hast no honor, no higher call!"
Claimed I, "Thou art not in God's thrall!
Thou art a menace black and seedy,
To come before me with such gall,
to come before a man so needy!"
A horrible visage then arose before me,
Terrifying! This angel of doom-
The moon 'twas struck, lay bleeding-
It's light red, fading soon...
A soul of the darkest gloom,
This being 'twas not ordained!
Beneath the light of the hemorrhaging moon,
I saw what it seeked to gain!
This monster, it fed off of pain,
I cried, "Thou art surely craven!
Thy knife hast many stains,
But how art thou so boldly brazen?
Perhaps hailing from some deathly haven,
or heaven tormented, I know thy measure!
I do know ye, sinful, lust-torn maven,
Forsake sustenance from my pleasure!
Be gone! Shatter thy earthly tether!
Back!" I shrieked- "Away from this plane!"
Whether Angel sent, or Devil, whether
Freudian delusion or Jobs game!
Love and sin art not the same!
So cast off of me your burdened guilt-
Love blooms wildly, it's vines my veins,
And from stronger feelings 'tis built!
I shall not be cursed by passions blame,
and my love shall never wilt!
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
de to små streger skriger
i mine øjne
havde jeg været forsigtig,
taget hvert skridt på æggeskaller og
tænkt lange tanker,
ville jeg løbe videre ubekymret
i dette sekund og
danse i nattens lys
men nu
nu, har jeg solens stråler
i maven
det smager bittert
som om det ikke passer ind
de lyseblå dråber fra mine øjne
er krystalklare
de skærer i mit sind og
hvisker hvad jeg skal gøre
de hvide vægge er kolde
jeg ser min sorte pedicure og
nu matcher den farven indeni
jeg burde være tom
men
jeg fortsætter i ungdommens
lange baner
jeg tegner blomster på blankt
papir og
jeg smiler samtidig
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
*Love Maven
In the moonlight of heaven
I see you floating
on notes of no beginning,
no end.
Taking that farm boy’s arm,
going where your feet just wanna go,
going to some ‘natural fun’...
Thinking of a life lost
in tones of forest green
and what could have been,
I know what it means
to get down, get down
where there is a lively funky sound.
‘Ipsimama’, ‘ipsimama’.
Time, in all dimensions
doesn’t recognize the ‘genius of love
or its love maven.
It just tick tocks,
tick tocks until
‘hiditihi, hipitiho’
‘bohannon’, bohannon’,
the music stops!
Aztec Warrior/redzone 5.30.16*
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 7:53 PM UTC
Jeg ofre mig hele tiden
jeg giver mig selv til folk
som kun giver halvt tilbage
Kan du tage min arbejdsvagt? Ja
Vil du med i byen og 2 dage i streg? Ja
Vil du besøge mig og så spiser vi sammen? Ja
Din flis-jakke er hæslig, skal jeg lave en ny? Ja
Denne konstante cirkel
af ting jeg skal, gøre og nå
den gør mig sindssyg
Jeg vil hellere ligge i min seng
føle spændingerne forlade min krop
og mærke hvor øm den egentlig er
af at jeg har glemt at lytte til mig selv
Jeg vil hellere se på skyer
eller bare på himlen
om den er lyserød, med skyer på eller blå
Jeg vil hellere trække vejret dybt
helt ned i lungerne, helt ned i maven
og mærke den friske luft inde i mig
Tankerne i mit hoved danser disco
og jeg er ikke selv inviteret
men det er ikke som at gå i byen
ikke som 2-dage-i-streg-bytur
mere som en konstant orkan
hvor mit ydre er orkanens rolige øje
for hvordan kan du være så rolig, Maria?
Jeg ved det ikke
Jo det ved jeg
Har ikke haft tid til at tænke over det
fordi der er en ny ofring at bringe
Ingen tid til eftertanke
eller fortanke
Før jeg ved af det er cirklen startet igen
Forfra eller bagfra
Det er det med cirkler
lige meget hvor den starter
så vil den nå hele vejen rundt
Ingen tid til eftertanke
(Marolle)
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
Trace your thoughts slowly
Across the moon’s lit Primrose,
And ponder not on how she belongs to the
Twilight.
Linger not on the notions of Beauty’s
Contrast…
Of utter radiance amongst the Eventide—
Lest you crave her
Shadows.
The unworthy swoon on false intoxications of allure,
Betraying pheromones that lead only to
Ruin.
Breathe not in her presence and still your thoughts, which race ill-intended towards
Premature release of longings—
Unrequited.
Dark Goddess of the Abyss
Siren of Shadows
Seeker of none, yet yearned by
All.
Accursed Aphrodite
Preternatural Persephone
Devourer of Darkfall,
Merciless Maven of moon-drunk men
Who quake with trepidation
Under the pressure of your
Wrath.
Know that your fleeting fury fuels
Fiery passions.
Fulfills my need to know you
If only briefly.
Shall I caress legendary layered labyrinths
Of thou’s lucid lithe mind?
Soothe seared sacred chambers
Of thine frostbitten
Heart?
Beautiful forlorn creature you are
To only be seen for Carnality’s
Delight.
Know that I perceive you.
Past Ethereal Elegance
Beyond the bonds of
Crescent Shackles.
Embodiment of Evanescent Evenings
Impermanence intertwined in
Insufferable aching…
Understand that your
Acrimony is
Admired.
This altruism
All-encompassing.
Allow me to detect deformities
Deep within
Defenses Deterred—
Hollow conclaves concealing
Corrugated corrupted
Compliance.
Humor my heartfelt hubris…
Humble yourself before this
Haunted man.
Entreat, Embrace, Entrust
This harrowed human husk
With an ounce of your Obsidian
Opulence.
I proclaim to pronounce you as my
Pessimistic Paramour.
To never underestimate
Our most unholy
Union.
To know that you belong to the
Night Sky
And must be unbound…
Understand my ululating plea,
To adore your admonishing
Yet never resign to its
False
Adherence.
Jun 4, 2022
Jun 4, 2022 at 3:43 AM UTC
piano, portraits, pyres
milking the celestial wellspring
notes, have and have-nots, halfed
alms, imperfect time
exchanged for dignity..a
knee takes score,
chant resounds, the portraits speaks
its crown, robbed of maven grace
defaced by scorn... reborn in
a pyres burn, a pianos key
and the composer's fear
of obscurity
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 3:34 PM UTC
det kan mærkes i maven og hjertet
det gør ondt som bare fanden
det kommer i jag og forsvinder langsomt
denne tomme følelse af noget
der burde være der men ikke er
denne tomme følelse af savn
til noget man ikke kan sætte en finger på
savn af selskab, savn af kram,
savn af nogen der mærker på min sjæl
savner ikke den overfladiske socialisation
hvor jeg pænt sidder og lytter
for sådan er jeg opdraget
”bla bla bla, mine problemer bla bla bla,
men hvordan har du det egentlig, Maria?”
min svar er altid ”det har jeg ikke tænkt over”
for det har jeg ikke, det er ikke en løgn
har travlt med at få styr på alt det lort
som folk bliver ved med at læsse af på mig
alle deres problemer med boligselskaber,
mennesker de ikke kan lide, pengeproblemer,
drengeproblemer, arbejdsproblemer,
skoleproblemer, venneproblemer
jeg er træt
og det er først når jeg er alene
at jeg kan mærke hvordan jeg har det
mærke mig selv og mærke ensomheden
mærke min sjæl
og den skræmmer mig
jeg ved ikke hvem jeg skal sige det til
eller hvordan jeg skal forklare det
”hej, jeg har det ad helvede til,
der er en klump af kaos, ensomhed og
noget andet ubeskriveligt der trykker
inde i min mave”
for hvad ville folk ikke tænke
Maria er altid glad, *** vil altid lytte
*** smiler frejdigt og laver hendes ting
men sådan er jeg slet ikke
jeg er i stykker
(Marolle)
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
sometimes when i think about being skinny
i get worried that if i ever do
i'll be one of those ugly skinny girls
instead of one of the pretty ones
and that would be terrible
i mean
isn't the object of the game
to be the highest
in demand
and if that doesn't work out
what do i do?
get fat again?
shoplift my features from a twisted magazine
in the media maven's fist?
yeah, that's a good idea.
**the problem is not that girls or guys are ugly and need to be prettier
the problem is on the inside of people's faces
i have begun to realize that this is not all their fault
we are desensitized from a young age
and though we might try to resist
television, facebook, tumblr
flashes us a picture of an unhealthily thin young woman
and tells us to strive to that standard.
even if you mock it
the image is in your head
and you begin to make small comparisons
i don't know if we can change our thinking anymore
people try, it hasn't worked very well
but WE CAN CHANGE the images that are put in our mind
for the people
by the people
rage against the barbie doll machine.**
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
I am the black winged dragon, the empty hearted snake
I am the lord of the rebellion holding America's fate
Subliminal commands are here to keep you in place
In the land of the slaves and the home of the fake
But I am awake!! How much more can I take?
Time to break the wicked nation manifested in hate
Its too late, for me to fail the mission at hand
And I cant pray to the skies of a weatherless land
Red pill...I noticed we are all in a cage
And so I gazed upon my life through the eyes of a sage
I am a maven, a prophet, with a mind full of rage
In the fields of elysium I have noticed my age
Angel with an old soul stuck in this maze...
But I am not done with this story...one last page
I'm in the system...Ebola...sicker than AIDS.
Its time for me to take this flag and set i ablaze
America!!!
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC
How we marvel at possessions, think they make the best impressions;
For with material things we establish a close rapport.
Can’t you see we are infected by this false truth we’ve injected
Into the minds we’ve neglected, directed by commercial lore.
"These things will make you happy,” says the preacher of commercial lore,
Only this and nothing more.
There are nights we sit there spying, through our computer screens buying
Bourbon, books, and onyx watches, razor blades and house décor,
Bright scarfs in brilliant vermilion, cowboy boots coated reptilian,
Stroll through any mall pavilion, civilians went in every store.
Like clockwork we comeback again, millions spent in every store;
We always want something more.
Like in monopoly we aspire, the best estates to acquire,
So other players can look in envy at our great high score.
With the money we’ve been savin’, we want a home in New Haven,
So we sought a market Maven, craving a house on the shore,
A vintage house with wooden dock sitting calmly on the shore.
Can we find one that’s worth more?
Queerly we lust for assets, keep on buying have no regrets.
Are we dumb or blind or numb to keep doing what we abhor?
Statues shackled to cubicles, doped up on pharmaceuticals
****** fingers raw cuticles, we’re bulls for the matador.
He dances us round in circles, pulls the sword the matador
Is the one we all fall for.
But the Maven respectfully will encourage us helpfully,
“Follow your path of senseless sorrow, leave your qualms at the door,
Carry on with inhibition, keep working for that commission,
Please don’t mind your intuition, fruition comes from spending more.”
But like layered lies there’s a pea of truth on the mattress floor;
A princess would wake up sore.
We must move past our gluttony, and join the better company
Of men meek in spirit who act humbly like the days of yore.
Realize that joy stems from passion, not this sorry thing called fashion;
Embrace others with compassion to truly make our hearts soar;
And our souls from out the shadows can truly begin to soar.
Let’s be greedy – nevermore.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
born was this day -
the king of the kings
the monarch of the south
the lord of the war elephants
the nightmare of the enemies
the upholder of the righteousness
the fervent patriot of the nation
established had he -
the mightiest empire of the renaissance
the kingdoms that don’t know dearth
the cities with surplus rubies and diamonds
the villages with flourishing greenery and jubilance
the sites with fascinating monuments
the territories with impenetrable borders
known was he as -
the ambidextrous sword fighter
the indomitable malla wrestler
the maven of the fine arts
the polyglot patron of the five languages
the prudent administrator and strategist
the paragon of an ideal ruler
been had he –
the hope of the people
the savior of the Hindu culture
the beacon among his contemporaries
the generous and the inclusive king
the valiant frontline military general
the esteemed scholar and poet
ended had he –
the atrocities on the peasants
the societal repression on the women
the ludicrous taxes on the residents
the brutal conquests of the invaders
the pernicious rituals in the communities
the chaos and disunity among the kingdoms
left has he -
the fear in the evil
the legacy of his deeds
the stories of his glorious reign
the prolific heritage sites to the people
the spectacular literary upsurge
the inspiration for the united India
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
Jeg er dårlig til at være vred
Jeg får ondt i maven, når jeg tænker onde tanker
Jeg kan ikke sige, hvad jeg mener, hvis min mening er ondskabsfuld
Jeg går med de vrede ord inden i mig selv
Jeg tænker dem, mener dem, overvejer og omformulerer dem
Jeg slipper dem ikke (måske tør jeg en dag)
Jeg tror det er bedst sådan
Jeg tror ikke nogen får noget ud af mine vrede ord
Jeg kan heldigvis klare at have dem i bur ind til videre
Jeg håber min omtanke holder føringen og lader dummer personer uvidne
Jeg skriver dem måske ned nu. Bare ordene, ikke mere. For ordene er vel ikke onde, før de er i kontekst og til eller om nogen.
Dumme
Uintiligente
Irriterende
Fatsvage
Taber
Et ord så slemt, at jeg ikke har det i mit ordforråd
Tarvelige
Ubetænksomme
Jeg hader dig!
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
...Illegible signatures scrawled...perturb
the maven.
Of years in the lighting...Bodh Gaya
ceremonial candles looking at the same
four winds.
An earth gone Up...only as You would,
and will have it...alighted withstanding.
Your very presence of consciousness
(which is a mere drop) makes the
Ocean of Consciousness rise...with sheer
volume...God bless you all.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
once captain
fore thorn
that soccer
made her
calling such
a crown
then in
Balboa as
she lately
resides a
homophobic and
Gold Pride
hence a
bride and
a southern
school maven
in heaven.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
She is my best friend because . . .
I immediately call her when I see something really funny happen in my daily life.
She is my best friend because . . .
Even though neither of us is particularly a fashion maven, I trust her implicitly when it comes to giving good style.
She is my best friend because . . .
I can’t even really remember how the two of us became friends, it just kind of started happening and *********** down a giant hill of love and care for her.
She is my best friend because . . .
We have a completely made up terms for mine and her people and very specific things.
She is my best friend because . . .
I basically expect her to be a more harsh version of Simon Cowell and put any of my dates through the judgy tests which prove her worthiness for the crown.
She is my best friend because . . .
Pretty much everything ever recommended to me by her in terms of entertainment has been a spot-on choice.
She is my best friend because . . .
The two of us have been to a concert together, it was amazing and we gossiped about the people in the crowd around her.
She is my best friend because . . .
I can always go back through my chat histories, text messages, and email exchanges to get a quick laugh or some reassurance that I am loved and understood by her.
She is my best friend because . . .
Sometimes I rediscover old inside jokes that I used to have with her and remember how hilarious and ridiculous they were all over again.
She is my best friend because . . .
Ultimate trust in her knows things that I have told literally no one else in the world.
She is my best friend because . . .
She is very understanding and little problems in day-to-day friendship do not affect the amount of trust and loyalty I have for her other overall.
She is my best friend because . . .
Every time I talk about her to someone who doesn’t know her yet, I gush a little bit.
She is my best friend because . . .
We help each other practice for job interviews and meeting, and are almost as nervous/excited about her getting hired as I do about your own job opportunities.
She is my best friend because . . .
The two of us pig out together and never worry about the other one judging my and her eating choices.
She is my best friend because . . .
My friendship makes me feel, in a lot of ways, much less scared about the future and the problems which might lie ahead of me . . . her . . . us . . . them.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
*Cold Sun with calling Raven
Morning soloist in the Cyan school tree haven
Wild berry blush , springtime zephyr maven -
relaying messages o'er crystal oceans of red wire grass
and brunette morning straw*
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC
I was born
Into a fake dream brother
Hard to shake them demons
Around me
Cuz laws go everywhere they follow me
Subliminally
I raised my conscious
Now I got Haters feeling nervous
Every time I preach revolting service
I'm holding back with the gat
Quick to act
Don't be mad at me
They hate me cuz my skin is black
And if at all? I have a ****** downfall
Ill still pick up the pieces
Standing tall fools on the gall
But all I gotta do is make a phone call
My homies answer with no panic
Hey get there guns bring the nation to panic schizophrenic
Cuz the world is so crazyyyy
Yeah I try to sway away from being wicked
But I can't cuz I'm focused on meal tickets
Gotta eat and keep my family Fed
Church hypocrites ain't breaking me no bread
False dreams of a reality
Sun Tzu gave me the recipe
And ingridients secrets of war
Hitting ya back
Listen to the sound of my Mack
As the world's getting colder.
And colder in feelin bolder
This is strictly for my soljaz bitchhhhh
Strictly for my strictly for my strictly strictly for my soljaz
Strictly for my soljaz making cheese
Yo I can't help but myself
So I keep autos on the self
Just incase of a confrontation
With the cops I mute there conversations
Yeah back to back against nation
Hidden in colors I got ghetto congregation
No hesitatin
We ready for the war to pop
And we ain't our ancestors *****
Well make ya heartbeat stop
I know they wish I stayed in hell
But rap stories will never
Fail thugs prevail sailin like Gail
Through lady liberty
Just justicccce yeah just as
Spin around critics like taz
So y'all can miss with the jazz
How long will my reign last
As the nation of mobsters
Ready to ****** blast duck fast
Cuz we tearing **** switch
Out the clips
Down goes another *****
Look em in the eyes
Before gave em peace
Shot em right between his eyes
Another fool dead
I'm feeling good
Politicians I'm running out the hood
Back into the white house
Stuck in a safe haven
But I'm misbehavin since I got wisdom from a maven
And give it all that ya ******* got
And keep bustin at the racist cops
Fool now drop
Strictly for my strictly for my soljaz
Strictly for my strictly for my soljaz
Strictly for my soljaz making gs
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
Yeah how you me style
Flavas ill **** like gomer pyle
And watch me pile
Up hataz to spectators
Mad cuz they can't relate to us
Gettin' papers through illegal capors
Inhale the vapors
Of me **** I blow tracers
Man and I gotta stay thick
With the click
But I'm disguise since I got wise
Yeah a war strategist so I depise lies
Otherwise you'll catch a saprise
Brain shocks lyrical tasin
Half man half amazing misbehavin
Since I got blessed by a maven
I'm black as raven son of the lost braves and
If you test you'll be stiff on the pavement no sentiment
Rackin' golden bars formin' parliament
Black nation wake up fill the heat
Cuz it's rising my melanin skin ties in
The sun and you can tell by all of the lies of the begotten son
Can't put a price on a mind
Makin' dimes on pennies
Hardly any can match my pedigree Deadly rhymes I got plenty
Beat any turn hataz guinea
Eat my flows til they grow
Obese and soon to blow below
Six feet ya go casket closed
Ya know the rest so no
Need to explain some say I'm crazy
Others say I'm sane as Hussien
Chemical Ali lyrically who's touchin' me
I'm an epidemic plague
Widely spread
All over infected countries cities to counties
Jail I'll never be
Cuz I'm the face of revolution
Guage is cocked and thousand of us shootin'
Hold ya guard tight cuz we lootin'
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 12:46 AM UTC
den hurtighed, der har omringet os er en, som vi alle forsøger at løbe i hælene på, omfavne og vise at vi elsker
men vores Nike Free 4.0 bliver pludselig fyldt med bly
mørkegrå, tonstunge, bindende blyklodser, der hiver og trækker kroppen ned i gruset, der smuldrer mellem fingrespidserne, alt imens hurtigheden får et kilometer langt forspring
pludselig ligger vi der, pulsen falder ned til et punkt, hvor den dunker i takter, der bemærkes og føles
noget lyd er omkring dig, præcis hvad det er, ved du ikke helt: det lyder dog bekendt, hvilket giver en blussende, varm fornemmelse i kinderne, og da hører du det - fuglekvidre
en sammensætning af glade toner, der tilsammen udgør en melodi, som letter dig fra jorden
de olivengrønne træer bliver tværet til siden, som om du kørte hånden over et vådt maleri, for du bevæger dig i bløde piruetter på tåspidsen, og mærker solens nuancer indeni
langsomheden står ved din side og snurrer i cirkler sammen med dig, inderst inde, helt nede i maven, der ved du godt at noget er forandret, men det siger du ikke noget til.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
Frogs fall
From far below
Little limbs
Spasm --gasm
Into the crystal sky
I have seen
And once
Lived inside
A juniper tree
Thorny sprites
Poke and ****
Never thought
I'd see the spiders
Help and hurt
Eat me out
My escape
I hate your
**** rodent
Dreaming of
My **** parade
You don't know
A **** thing now
I could've said
Something much
Much different
I've got the chance
To lose my way
Contented to sit
And sit inside
My cave
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 3:48 PM UTC