"nowone" poems
Unamed princess
from a far set up parish
cup my hand into
your's again please
Let the willows I imagine
now whistle gently the tune
of my dreams
long gone.
Ask the child suppressed in you
if the lives we live here
are what we at that time
found true ?
We both think
we probably could speak out an answer
but in the end
we know well grow and regret just the same.
Your dress is tight, your smile is bright
just everything in this light seems right
Yet I'm getting worried more and more
that pleasures close some doors.
What are we chasing after
is it happiness, is it pleasure
maybe serenity or an epic treasure
The thing is
nowone really knows
not even the priest,
bless him,
For if Peter exists he surely
highlight these names of peace.
I somehow wish
to spit these thoughts
right out my tumoring brain
and cleanse the
real felt pain.
I grab you by the neck now
your wonderful dress
pressed under my feet and
the park's green grass
as pin does over a bug.
I take you here, in the middle
of the park tucking it all down
you frown as I push the gown too
Now it faces me
I can clearly see a thing.
Are we promised anything ?
Are human beings just ******
old animals bright and clever
enough to know sister from lover
enemy from brother
winter from summer
marmalade from butter ?
Animals do not worship
they don't create republics nor kingships
Even though they
were here first.
Evolution has changed their face
and the length if their tails
that's it, but here we all are
Only ten million Years counting
and already we fight
over who really is god's son
Like a ***** deep inside
its hole like any human on a beach
in the middle of a night.
I can sense things hugging
around me dripping smooth
transparent curtains of
cosmic covers
We both think we probably
could speak out an answer,
to the questions left to decipher.
But in the end we will probably
forget the problems brung up
by today's day and age
And since we will,
like everyone else;
it surely musn't have
been that important.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
I made a castle on my own
with sand that you're not supposed
to touch, and help from Friend.
So bad at shaping regular dirt,
here's what it is :
what you dont expect of me.
And thus
Shaped alone,
somewhere in Somewherelese
where nowone could feel me breathe,
not a living thing can smell my bheat,
grew a thing i could not show
because it was Ridiculous.
The people asked to see my secret place
as soon as they saw my strange blue lips.
I was speaking from (not of)
a place that i wasn't ready to ****
Burning by trying to cut a peek.
: Jealousy, or maybe just curiosity
for that lingering perfume that had
now followed me.
They knew they saw The Cave
where i drew that blue tar from,
but they checked and saw they were wrong.
Because they cant even see her,
because shes not even from this island,
and she's a person, not a name ("The Cave").
Now. We are getting to the point.
Oh the pleasure of creating,
the pleasure of sharing existence,
the pleasure of secretness,
of timidity which time blossoms to
die and make place for something
totally different and unrecognizable
from the first formula.
From honey smell
to Honey,
from text to
Voice and Face.
ALL OF THIS IS FOR ME I ONLY WILL FIGURE IT OUT ITS ACTUALLY EVOLVING INTO SOMETHING QUITE HUMANE AND SANE IN TIME I MIGHT MAKE IT INTO SOMETHING WHO THE HELL KNOWS BUT THE MEHER;
.love from existing on another shore.
.a shore that was earned
.a shore that exists in reality
.a shore that has ******* a ****** no hair in bad parts
and is pretty and flat and hilly yet nice for all i can think
of for now.
.a shore that i learned to love only by
listening to it's every waves
. as shore that's also a cave,
a brook, a damp nook (to the grave diggers
and maggot fillers)
. a shore not swhore
. a thing i threw a flag on
(planting isnt what only counts)
up till now everything did fine,
up till now everything is doing fine,
it almost never happened,
im hoping this thing lives
that the shores stays happy
that she thinks of me.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC