"myr" poems
Dry brown cattails fall over one another in autumn
each year crossing on the forest floor,
waiting for spring rain.
Trees line the neighborhood street but true beauty
lives in the swamp down below.
We ran through branches, slicker boots in the mud
crunching through the tall grass and fallen leaves
exploring where the deer sleep. Graceful bucks
peruse the land. I try to catch a glimpse at dusk
when the silent fog begins to rise.
Forgotten streams dart through the reeds where
shallow water is perfect for spawning Northern.
Fallen tree trunks, ominous giants are the
only way to cross the creek
with dangerous swirling currents my daddy
always warned me about.
Poplar bridge is covered with graffiti and scars
the place I got my first french kiss
while the sun sank down into the swamp’s horizon
and the sky filled with precious stars.
The childhood place you yearn for
after the years go by
When every dark thought drives the car down the road,
ending up on that bridge just to watch the creek flow.
Stillness in the middle of a city
isolated from the corruption outside
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
They say i’m creative as a reversed mime;thinking outta the box
my minds found a way to rehearse time while it stops the clock
tick tock
what time is it?
prison block – on some infinite minute ****
neurons firing
pew
change of management declared- archetypal hiring–whoo
“Do you specialize in living positively?”
{I can try}
“Will you try to stay away from virus compositories?”
{oh me oh my!}
I live different lives as the same people:
go to the same church with different steeples.
Question the voice from my bed; oh **** am I dead?
tryn to lift my arms, but they filled with lead
where am I going and who have i led, to wander and ponder in the land of the dead
its this chilly necropolipse; filled with empty soul ships.
I can’t get warm here and so I fear
stricken by a paralysis , caught in the mists of myr
influenced by infected cysts, sickness adhere…
better deal quik through love metamorphosis
but I kan't…..—————-says who?
great big king boo!
he haunts me and taunts me into less than mediocrity
but its simplicity, don't deal with me, simply leave and then you’ll be free
of me and my moaning, ******** and pathetic groaning
but I’m simply freeflowing,
I guess I'm like an emo chick, dip in quick , then get out of it
like a quicksand pit you’ll stick quick – I do my job a bit to legit
while you sit and feel …………………………………………
……………………………this is some straight simple ****
1+1= 2
but in my equation, I'm still left with none, no you'd think , but this ain't fun
“So leave!” I yell
“Get out of here!”
I’m lost and confused like a catholic queer
Am I sincere?
maybe
what morals appear?
when your without another and can't find your brother
simply steer clear quick!————————————————–>away from that skell *****
with his nonsensical lycrical pains
and paradoxical ego feigns
from left to up
side to side
always quik to hop
and hide n hide
non-attached….BULLSHIT!_-^-_–<>re-attache these b-r-o-k-e-n__bits& p.i.e.c.e.s
so maybe one day you’ll do better than me
Just don’t listen to way i say and get away from me
EMO thoughts brought to light
need some *** I think i might
oh wait , is this just a way for me…the pages in the journal get away from me
a psychiatrist in the pages….paid for free.
**** thanks ink, thanks journal, thanks ego and funeral
I just killed my ego , and it was the death of me.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
Laying down in the forest,
Surrounded by pines,
Oaks,
Willows.
Listening to the symphony of endless music,
Either eyes close to listen,
Or drowning in the vastness of big blue up high,
My mind drifting away like the clouds she holds
A dark smell fills the air,
Of ash and heat and wood,
My hair begins to feel hot,
Even covered in shadow.
Around me I'm surrounded,
Not by men or myr,
Not by evil or good
But life, it's giver and taker.
The heat surrounds me,
I open my eyes,
And I see what once was a forest,
Now lies a field of the dead.
Worry not,
Because every thing dead,
Brings opportunity for the living to come,
Renewed the forest will be.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
*See the previous sonnet:
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCLXXIX)
I meant to put down shadows 'cross the hale
Face of these sun-washed green lawns blue skies fence
With nary cloud but tis a white puff hence,
How that September'd wink in tow t'avail,
Our hopes of was't vacations? in betrayl
Capped ere yet realized with a haunting sense
Of sheer conclusion, kneading rye dough thence,
Tae whip a sheet cake up like joy's not frail.
Poke myr'ad holes and trickle as it were
The strawb'rry juice in for dessert, and to
A fault I'm drained 'fore sundown in a poor
'Scuse. So I washed my hair at midnight's cue,
And showered after, to drift off, til fer
All that how Sunday nudges me anew.
27May18a
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:36 PM UTC