"myers" poems
I'm curious...
How did my ExxP parents
Give birth to two IxxJ children?
How did my 'ideal match' parents
Get such a ****** up marriage?
How does my T father
Really feel about and think of his F son?
How much does my ISFJ brother
Hate his INFJ sister for stunting his F growth,
Because our ESTP father, my shadow type, has annihilated mine?
How am I supposed to be able to predict
My ENFP mother's flip-flopping parenting,
Even if we're both NFs?
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
Sensation, intuition, feeling, and thinking,
Is wrapped inside a ball,
A small pink ball inside our head,
That won't stop till we're dead,
Analytical bedrock inside oozing theories,
Elemental atoms sizzling logic,
The imaginative stranger,
One abstracted and eccentric,
Walking with shadows,
Talking and mocking,
Through these theories inside us,
Tilting our caps ‘til we’re shaking our heads,
Pensive love in storming analysis,
Sapiosexually excited, piqued interest,
Unemotional and thoughtfully attuned,
Absently minded, always condoned,
Unconventional and impartially stringed,
Weirdly wired in auxiliary functions,
Misconstrued and misunderstood,
An ****** intelligence bleeding paranoia,
Knocking unto me,
Into you, inside us all,
It’s something we all yearn to be,
And when you fail and prevail we laugh,
Crickling crickets thinking nothing,
Washing down the storm drain,
With no thoughts fluidly sliding down my throat,
Pop goes no questions into absolute concise words like freshly broken glass,
Again shadows await, but different shadows,
Blinking at me staring at you,
Wondering what’s what, inside this dementia made sense of a lovely afternoon,
Inside your sane, autocorrected, predetermined, twitching, little…mind.
Inspired by Myers Briggs Personality Test
Tyler is INTP... Logician (Introverted INtuitive Thinking Perception)
The drifter, dreamer the absent minded professor!
SassyJ is INTJ... Architect (Introverted INtuitive Thinking Judging)
The starry-eyed idealist manoeuvring life as if a giant chess board!
What Myer Briggs personality type are you?... See link below
It would be great to know.Please comment!!
http://www.16personalities.com/intp-personality
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Silly, silly, silly me.
To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody?
Silly, silly, silly me.
You can't be free, and that's just it,
All you are is 'somebody.'
Some-body.
"Some body."
But that's not true!
Look at Trostky and Lenin,
Michael Myers and Lennon,
The other Lennon.
It's hard to differentiate in name and legacy,
Because both Lennon's were revolutionaries,
Marching around like the freshman from heaven.
But neither believed they were the result of divine intervention in the affairs of man,
Because this convention would threaten their worldview and beckon away their sanity...
In the same way that the Pope or ****** let their divine vanity commit greater blasphemy and bring them future agony.
Now neither Lennon nor Lenin came anywhere close to being men from Galilee,
In fact they were more the men of the galaxy,
Or at least, John was, with his peach fuzz beard and his belief that love is greater than fear.
The other Lenin implemented the New Economic Policy, to starve the proletariat and start his revolution on an already hypocritical trend that would continue quite the same until the very end.
And it proves something, does it not?
Violence sends a message to no one but the instigator,
Changing them to justify, and claim is wasn't misbehavior;
But that's a lie, no idea of mine is worth the death of a human mind,
And to pretend otherwise makes one delude themselves that they aren't an instigator, but an illustrator,
Painting in the blood as if ****** makes an innovator.
And for ****** there is no vindicator,
Violence is an image breaker,
Indulged in by poor imitators who think they're right, and the world is wrong.
Unaware this makes them weak, not strong.
Now John Lennon was the true revolutionary;
Although he succumbed to violence, he veered away from it, even when it was necessary.
He fought the war, and yes, the war did win,
But at least he didn't cover his scars with artificial skin,
Or deny his implicit wrongs as a result of all original sin.
John Lennon used the word 'nigger' to the opposite effect.
He used the word to trigger something bigger and correct,
The wrong that seemed so propagated by the last colonial tide,
Of which the other Lenin defected and took colonialism's side.
John Lennon was Utopian and told us of a better world;
He interjected definition, and caused old thoughts to curl away in fright,
And bite the dust despite their might and past dominion of industrialism,
It was a schism, and it still plagues us to this day.
John Lennon understood we over-complicate way
To
Often.
Silly, silly, silly me.
To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody?
Silly, silly, silly me.
You can't be free, and that's just it,
All you are is 'somebody.'
Some-body.
"Some body."
"Some body" is something,
And some body can change the world.
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 1:34 PM UTC
Across from me at the bar table,
the bartender smiles and asks for my order
I tell him, "anything strong," and hand him ten dollars
I drink it up, feel its strength running down my throat
into my ever-growing stomach
I look up and remember what I've left at home
My wife sat in the bedroom alone,
My children pacing around and adapting the way women and men are supposed to be
I have taught my son power, strength, and dominance
While I have taught my daughter weakness and submission
Maybe that's where I went wrong as a father
Where all previous generations of my family have gone wrong
Raising me as a man seeing women as objects,
And I raising my son in the same manner
I take one last sip from my ten dollar drink
Taking it in along with my realizations
In front of me is the door of my home
where I have left women to shrink
in order to enlarge myself to the point of overfeeding my ego
And then I decided to shrink myself into the size
of the women I've shrunk
The size of my home has grown larger
Its proportions have expanded
Allowing each of us to occupy the same amount of space
And so I sat across my wife at the kitchen table
Looking at her at eye level
She smiles and I smile back
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
I spied a timekeeper
reposed upon a wall.
His burden too heavy,
the edifice too tall.
Tenderly I did lift
his old timepiece aloft,
and there inside he hid,
vulnerable and soft.
Patiently I waited;
I didn’t want him urged.
Torpidly time did move
before an eye emerged.
Then, as if he realized
all the time put to waste,
out came the other eye
with a little more haste.
Gently, he moved towards me
as the old church bell chimed;
shell lumbering above
and slime trailing behind.
And for me he kept
some of life’s precious time,
passing so pleasantly
for no reason or rhyme.
-Alyssa Myers
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
. revolution?!
what revolution?!
i can't see a guillotine!
****
hey! guys! there's no guillotine!
there's no talk
of a revolution
when there's no guillotine...
your talk of, a, "revolution"
would make Marquis de Sade
cringe,
and shout down a toilet
than out of window
of the Bastille..
this isn't a revolution,
it's on;ly 2018....
you have to wait!
why are tthe people so slothful,
yet at the same time,
eager, to work?
we're looking at "changes"
come 2045...
the year...
that apparently stabilized
the 2th0 century for
20 / 30 / 40 / 5...
no...
let's keep it with
sucker-punch Billy...
i love being a drunk...
makes all the sober
people look...
******* stupid;
and i don't even mean that....
it's just a military
fatigue...
it akin to:
coulrophobia...
yeah... big time... women making
excursions
for fatigued wool and silk
dresses...
one question does the job...
*honey, can i play the clown
at our honey- berry's birthday
party?*
do women go into
mascara parlors,
window shopping,
with a man tagging along?
honey...
do you really need me to tag along
while you shop for
make-up chemical
parade of tested adherents
for your beauty of your
expectation of fur...
Mike and Moany - the gerbils...
i thought you liked them?
no...
i can do the sheered
woolen artifacts...
when it comes to spreading
lipstick on frogs
and testing their
pyrotechnic susceptibility potential...
watching the Mike Myers' twins...
no... really...
count me out of
the necessity to make
an argument for a race...
i'm out...
done...
i never liked the English
existentialist argument to begin with...
too individualistic,
too finite...
too much of:
enjoying a hell
of a good time...
it's a simple economic logic
focus...
what you're selling?
i'm not buying.
it's that simple!
i don't have to buy what you're
selling!
stand with it all stacked up...
i'm not buying!
somehow i think
the English intellectuals
forgot the basic principles...
i'm, not, buying!
savvy?
god... ugh...
i know the French are bad...
about their oversee of diacritical
application,
and how they make no
sense when syllables
come into play...
and the Germans... yeah yeah...
i get their scrutiny of
method and dedication...
their teutonic charge within
the confines of ******** screws
into place...
but i'm still not seeing
an clearer...
there's talk of a revolution
in the English tongue...
so...
where's the guillotine?!
oh...
so...
what revolution?!
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
it is a strange practice, learning to understand someone
it begins with a rough sketch of 'the way they feel about
their parents' or 'what happened to their siblings'
and it progresses on with a Myers Briggs evaluation
sometimes taking their mental pulse in different subjects
marking what they care about and what they don't
enscribing the single sentence of their
self-worth, their desire, and their motivations
on whatever it is that binds the two of you together,
and growing with them and learning the way in which they grow
you know their crystal lattice and you know how it forms
a molecular structure in fractals, in fractals, in fractals
that builds and changes but is always quite the same,
I know what makes you laugh,
I know how to make you cry,
I have learned you and I know
which keyholes can be pressed, slid into, or clicked
I know of all your crevices and your breakages
and I know how to fix them or how to
drive a wedge so deep inside you that you splinter
I can map when your breath is short and I can chart
your secrets on the walls of my heart, kept there
like a case-file in a robbery- you have stolen
me, my very existence,
and there is an arrow and a pin and lines drawn
to every single bit of who you are
I have learned you, I have measured you,
you have been weighed and found wanting
and I know what it is you are wanting in the depths of your being
but the finding of these things is difficult and rocky and awkward
for you have taken what it is that is me and you have
patterned it over the immense and layered texture of you
breaking and filling holes, pouring into a mold
and I am invested, now, for I am made for you,
but there is no turning back and we must go on from here
I learn and change from the people around me
but first I must learn you.
It is a strange practice, learning to understand someone,
but once I understand you, then
now, now we can begin.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
If only I could skip days,
like I skip stairs
when I am running to you.
There is no need to worry
if I begin to fall;
the dried leaves of yesterday
will cushion the blow
then, quickly turn to snow
but, before I know,
spring is back in my step
and the only thing that reigns
is the smile on my face;
because, my heart knows,
with one more leap,
summer’s kiss is waiting for me on the landing
-Alyssa Myers
October 8th, 2014
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
brate be
seven feet
balkan handz
yugo betrugo
atm tear it off
toni da serb
rade belgrade
brate be seven feet
balkan dropkick
es ist optik
es ist kopffick
we so yibbish
we so yibbish
diz is fibbish
gimme widdish
diz be the last day
of yous ridiculous stay
on this world
last day of ya stay
gimme your girl
gimme da cash
para be stammel
du hammel ik fick dich
he a sturdy kidic
aber keine wichtig!
come over and watch
gimme some cash
i'll cut ya head off
yous trash
ain't no madov
ya
know the code bro
inspire me baby
shorty now a sporty
nach dieser feier
gimme some raki
my pantz be khaki
benz like stasi you
know the code joe
gimme gimme gimme
bibi bibi bibi
ain't no real like
the copy of a copy
du opfer ich schneide
deinen kopf ab
eingeweide
quill'n
you gotz to chill
we so yibbish
we so yibbish
diz is fibbish
gimme widdish
jacket originally stolen
cevape and börek
para and babas
we don't care yeah
life be quick
touch my d##k
rub my d##k
life too quick
energy months
mothman *****
michael myers' titts
hyper years
feel me like an o.g.
you know the code brate
wenn ich deine fresse schlage
yugo betrugo
ebonics we got this
yugo betrugo
brate in die fresse pate
we so yibbish
we so yibbish
diz is fibbish
gimme widdish
ain't nothing new
check the views
just one fu##in fan
will burn ya jam
hip hop colors
flip flop mamas
beach feelingz
we need ringz:
MASSIVE
we need chainz:
CUBAN LINK NECKLACE 1 KG CLASSIC
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 3:34 PM UTC
This mask is alive in follows my soul,
Surrounding my body my friends and my home,
This space inbetween us decreases with wind,
The world sitting under us hiding within.
This mask is electric its forces are strong,
It shuts up my mouth and its rubber so long,
It changes my stature my face and my life,
It colors my soul and it preaches my sight.
This mask is a darkness,
Foundation of light.
It seeps through my irises and seems unpolite.
It causes me anger and stress and a fire.
This mask is a cage after all I'm inspired.
Its vacuum is black and it tears me apart.
Valueless words and valueless art.
It hides all the worth and replaces demand.
If I'm Michael Myers then you're Spiderman.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 12:28 PM UTC
hey pretty boy,
I hear our myers-briggs personalities are compatible.
You've got exactly the kind of curly hair I'm looking for
and chocolate brown eyes
tall, skinny,
a nice jawline-
you love to read, you value close relationships-
hell, you play the double bass
and have the nicest arm muscles I've ever seen-
you love your family, and live in Abita
with goats and sheep
and if you're so **** perfect for me,
why do I still love her?
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Why do we sit in awe over the stars?
Or marvel over great ancient cities that still stand?
Why do we strive to discover new lands?
And study the sea in all its depth?
Why do we fear earthquakes and fire?
And seek out precious stones?
But never come to ponder about our flesh and bones?
Are not your thoughts as numerous as the stars?
Are your eyes not the sharpened tools that allow you to see beauty?
Did your hands not build the ancient structures that stand today?
Did your legs not carry us to the ends of earth and return stronger?
Is not the soul as mysterious and deep as the sea?
Can not the words of your mouth destroy as much as earthquakes and fire?
And benefit as much as the rain?
Is not a child more precious than any gemstone?
Yes to all of these.
And yes again.
We underestimate ourselves.
-Alyssa P. Myers
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
And I became inspired about a summer love,
surely she is somewhere now watched by all the angels above, her kindred spirits.
So long ago, we sailed the cat to St. John's isle,
where we'd sit and chat for hours on end,
sending good vibes to each other, enraptured,
smothered in our own astral plane.
We were totally exuberant, not criminally-isane,
in fact a bit silly, those googly-eyes we made,
along with the Myers & pineapple,
tickling each other's fancies.
We'd dance to Marley and Tosh,
do the limbo in our tie-dyed brilliance,
under the sun in that tropical paradise,
I think about of you so often.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC
How can I begin this true and yet very odd story... Do I begin it when I was a child, my adolescent years, teenager or get straight to the last two years.... Yet they would all tie this story together.... At present I'm sitting on my poarch, straight up in the hood "lower 3rd, Alexandria Louisiana... Back to more shortly... Back... Did I tell you that I am a 55 year old successful business man from Ft Myers, Florida... Oh by the way I was a functioning ****** addict for the majority of my life, sold mega dope... And I love black women... Let me tell you, if you haven't delt with southern hood black girl attitude, you ain't seen attitude....
How life goes on and how things change..... I met a girl that was something different, could it change my life or will it be a fight.... Friday night in the hood is a different life... From dinner at the country club.... To staying clear of a fight..... Living in the hood still feels right...
As times have changed, black girls these days hold their ***** tight.... It will always cost you change, so what else is new in life.... It can come very cheap or very costly depending on the game....
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 9:22 PM UTC
Nothing is said
to be fancy*
That lightbulb
moment
To paint oneself
colors like a wand
Wow have mercy
The world turns to dust
Lips like the
powder puff
The dog's world in
his paws
To see oneself Wild West
The guns draw no mercy
at its best
Of love fury to test
the life we know is rough
Her skirt flows to
dig yourself
Please have mercy!
In her dreams, let us think
Well, what shows?
To love yourself
New self-inspired
New leaf page oneself
You got the rage
The science of knowing
oneself not to be
hurried
Second shot but
once married Huh?
The object the next subject
Her dignity oneself on the
shelf
New wings Robin redbreast
sings
The"Fort Myers Gulf"
Time can be a blessing*
So why do we go down
on our knees
To be selfish to be or
not to be
But make a wish
Like the "Seven Fishes"
Merci beaucoup
Roses secret hush
To say I love you
Many known spirits
Hard times to live it
Be in it the Lotto
You got to win it
The Wholesome sign logo
The wholeheartedly
Oneself dream the Godliness
To wake up shades like
cascades eyes of oneself
So unexpectedly time
heals join the
masquerades
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 8:34 AM UTC
Before they seal the coffin shut
Let me memorize his face
Touch his skin just one last time
Trace his silk, navy tie
Let me my memory
Leave behind
That I never
Said goodbye
Nor I love you
Just one more time
Wait a moment
Please
A little more time
The stuffed TY (beside your head)
A duck from me
I'll always remember
It was ET
Duffus, Wrestling and Shi Thead
How can I forget?
Mike Myers, Freddy and the 13th
Gremlins, trolls and in between
A Weird Al song
And gasoline
We set the world on fire
We skated ice
And ran in rain
In underwear
One in the same
Skateboards
Superman
And Choo choo trains
Fights
You were a liar
My brother
Peeing in apple juice bottles
Talking to rice krispies
Milk in hair
My best friend
Firecrackers
Sling shots
Everywhere
Even apart
Not far behind
Wait a moment longer
I can't leave him
He's mine
I'm crying
Holding on
Like those moments
On the red carpet stairs
Chubby cheeks
Wet eyes
Mohawks and double dares
Pretending we didn't care
But we cried
At each goodbye
Why? Why?
No....
I don't want to let go...
Don't shut it yet
No....
It's too dark inside...
Please please
Open your eyes
I have to be dreaming
Come back to life
Shattered and screaming
The coffin is closed
They're holding me
Spinning out of control
Too young, too soon
The good always go
But I wasn't ready
It just can't be so...
A blurred ride and rain
As they lower you
Slow
Goodbye
What's goodbye?
I want hello
I'll never forget
12 years or so
I swear it was yesterday
Still can't finish...
Still won't.....No!!
©MV
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
This mask is alive in follows my soul,
Surrounding my body my friends and my home,
This space inbetween us decreases with wind,
The world sitting under us hiding within.
This mask is electric its forces are strong,
It shuts up my mouth and its rubber so long,
It changes my stature my face and my life,
It colors my soul and it preaches my sight.
This mask is a darkness,
Foundation of light.
It seeps through my irises and seems unpolite.
It causes me anger and stress and a fire.
This mask is a cage after all I'm inspired.
Its vacuum is black and it tears me apart.
Valueless words and valueless art.
It hides all the worth and replaces demand.
If I'm Michael Myers then you're Spiderman
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
*i hate this ******** even writing about it gives me Sartre's nausea, but it's the reality, and as such, given it's reality, it's in-escapable, so there's no point hiding behind a putrefaction of ideals with nice, ear-pleasing sensible words that do not antagonise, let alone engage with dialectics, that sharpened version of what is know to be simply: a conversation, or via Shakespeare: too many stages, too many worlds, too few actors, a load of physicists though, deliberating poly-dimension etc., but too few actors; what a massive Holocaust of subjectivity this scientific positivism came to be... clearer cloning devices are in place than what the Koran invites. they will not convert so easily, having been robbed of communism! the mongolian conversation / connection, i.e. if it worked for the mongolians to become a nation sub- in the geopolitical stratification they say: 'it should have worked for us, but it didn't, we're as dispersed as the jews! and we're met with more anti-semitic remarks around the globe than the ******* Deutsche!*
and when the recession hit
the majority of european countries
poland remained recession free,
and when the migrant crisis came
the european union abolished
the schengen union:
zumbi e o senhor das guerras
zumbi e o senhor das demandas
quando zumbi chega
e zumbi quem manda
your tribe - our tribe -
i.e. **** your little unity project for a café culture;
hostility will be met with hostility,
or quiet simply right-wing football hooligan
marches with a flare for acrobatics of explosives...
i didn't want it, as honesty goes
i am in debt with Scottish universities and i'm
not paying them back...
i'm on £120 a week benefits after being
misdiagnosed as schizoid... oh look,
Michael Myers is smoking a pipe of Hashish
in Damascus.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
IM THE MAD ONE WELCOME TO WONDERLAD WHERE EVERYTHING IS BACKWORDS
AND EVERYONE IS MAD
I’m the mad hatter waiting for Alice to arrive
I’m the joker wondering "why so serious"
I’m Jeff the killer checks bleeding saying "go to sleep"
I’m the slender man with no eyes but always watching
I’m the face under Michael Myers Mask
I’m Alice looking through the Looking Glass
I’m the red Queen saying “OFF WITH THEIR HEAD”
I’m the boney white rabbit saying “I’m Late I’m Late”
I’m Jack Skellington saying “just because I cannot see it doesn’t mean I can’t BELIEVE in it”
I’m Cheshire the cat saying “EVERY ADVENTURE REQUIERS A FIRST STEP”
IM THE MAD ONE WELCOME TO WONDERLAD WHERE EVERYTHING IS BACKWORDS
AND EVERYONE IS MAD
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC
I left because you wanted me gone.
I love you!
I came back for you.
but...
I left my thoughts in Immokale.
I left my drive in Lehigh.
My inspiration is scattered over the waters of Ft. Myers beach.
My plans wait in South beach.
Orlando, Tampa bay, and Fort Lauderdale still whisper my name.
It's time to go back to the sunshine state.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
What now, time, have you come for?
Do I not give my every breath to you
While you move through me
Or is it I moving through you
As you strip the atoms of youth from my bones?
Have you not pried great men
From the tired hands of life
And watched them turn to vapor
To be lost in your perpetual line?
No, I will not let you drag me along
I will stain my name dark in your delicate fabric
So that you must destroy yourself
Before you destroy me
-Alyssa P. Myers
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Your complicated like the back to the future trilogy,
I'm diggin this if you are , sometimes I think selfishly,
Teenage stuff , nothing to get caught up arguably,
I'm diggin this if you are,
Use to compare you to that stunning actress , noted Miss Ricci,
I got your name on my arm to express my love now baby,
I'll jump off a cliff for you and write you a discography,
I'm diggin this if you are.
/
I notice every time I change for the better ignoring
My past and settling for better things and job offerings,
I put my passion aside for the angels to protect it in its
Day of needing comfort just so I could start Requieming,
I use to wanna write comic books and novels thinking
That I was a young stan Lee or Stephanie Myers despite
My effort to take advantage In making a masterpiece,
Let it rest in peace,
I seen better artwork from the loose leaves,
Falling desperately,
Entering the mind of a maniac , just say please.
/
Gotta dance in the light,
Why not just let it be,
Soul flies like a kite,
First step to being free,
Gotta find the red door,
If you stumble cross the keys,
Have to right all your wrongs,
That's good enough for me,
Walk upon the other side,
Knows the whole biography,
Of your recent whereabouts,
Getting burned damagely,
Have to right all your wrongs...
Have to write all your wrongs...
You're not doomed eternally if you do the right things
That says alot about you as a person and your peers,
All the wishes and the fears,
You could make sure they get sheered , there's a lesson here.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
One day Barney Fife was practicing his quick draw.
He accidentally shot Thelma Lou, he broke the law.
Andy had no choice but to put Barney in jail.
But Andy let Barney out when he said he had a crop of marijuana to sell.
Barney offered Andy a fifty-fifty deal.
But Andy wanted it all, he decided to steal.
He shot poor Barney and dumped his body in Myers Lake.
Andy became furious when he learned the marijuana was fake.
The crop of marijuana turned out to be oregano.
Andy was arrested and jail was where he had to go.
Andy will be pounding rocks for the rest of his days.
The Sheriff soon learned that crime doesn't pay.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 1:11 PM UTC
The hurricane was
bearing down on us rapidly,
windows were being boarded,
grocers were sold out,
water was being stockpiled.
The drunkards
under the burnt-out building
had stolen our goods,
had broken in
& just took all of our stuff.
Myers & pineapple
twisted my thoughts
and I lashed out,
cut one of them in the dark.
The morning after the tempest,
we found no one there,
not even a blood trail,
thought they might
had been washed
out to sea
in the storm surge.
The incident still haunts me.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
where the bonfire began.
Where your golden syllables were sewn
onto the tapestry of a city.
I can imagine the swirl of your dress,
the feverish squawk of jazz
rebounding from the ceiling.
Few alive who’d remember.
Few witnesses who saw
you gnaw on his cheek, draw blood.
Sixty-one years later.
The hubbub of tourists,
a swell of shop windows.
They do not think of you, but I do.
I think of Ross, Myers, Huws,
the Weissborts and Minton,
and you two, the first lightning-white boom
that triggered a lust, a love,
a marriage.
What verses will form next?
I hope for platinum language,
dialogue free from bloated pauses.
If only a while, I’ll hold it somewhere
in the walls of my mind for life.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC