"poetically" poems
Capricorns, Capricorns are ruled and schooled by the planet Saturn, Saturn, Saturn. A bandit with a similar pattern, pattern, pattern. Capricorns, Capricorns are brethren from a legion; a legion of an atmosphere of the southern-hemisphere; in the equatorial region. At an
angle, angle, angle; Capricorns, Capricorns are angels of Aquarius and
Sagittarius. They’re boisterous, courageous, contagious, glamorous,
prestigious, rebellious, various and victorious-goats, goats, goats!
Capricorns, Capricorns cope, devote, note and quote, quote, quote.
They’re ambitions with superstitions and various missions, missions, missions! They’re novelties and poverties, revelations and
revolutionaries, revolutionaries, revolutionaries. Capricorns, Capricorns are theories and visionaries, visionaries, visionaries.
They’re objects, projects and rejects. They’re leaders and readers that are poetically, negatively or positively dictatorial and doctorial! Some are historical, optical, political and radical; authentic, eccentric,
neurotic, poetic, theoretic, theoretic, theoretic. Unicorns, Unicorns are biblical and mythical, mythical, mythical; they’re ****** exotic, iconic, ironic, magic, nostalgic creatures, creatures, creatures. Their features
resembling a horse of course, of course. Furthermore, they’re fierce and a force. They’re a breed and creed of desire, fire and perspire, perspire,
perspire, perspire! They’re viral, viral, viral! This partial, sworn steed;
born awesome, awesome, awesome and too blossom, blossom, blossom. Unicorn’s spiral, crescent horn usually projecting and protruding from their foreheads. Rough and tough enough too pierce,
pierce, pierce! Unicorns, Unicorns are defendants, independents and
pendants. Hark! Hark! Hark! They’re brilliant and resilient sparks, sparks, sparks! They’re told as bold, old art, from the heart, from the start. Unicorns, Unicorns are fillers and pillars of guide, pride and
stride, stride, stride. They’re along for the long, long, long ride...
Unicorns, Unicorns are strong, strong, strong! Some as a song, song,
song, some throng, throng, throng, some wrong, wrong, wrong. As a
child, child, child; wild, wild, wild! Unicorns, Unicorns overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm. Their domicile realm, apparently, inherently and originally belonging from India; alleluia, alleluia for India, India,
India! Capricorns and Unicorns; two different creations. Capricorns
and Unicorns; two different relations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two
different situations and superstitions. They’re rainbows that glow, know and show. They’re of borrow, of sorrow and of our tomorrow.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
*Poetry moves from within our souls,
It's emotions pouring out
Covering us in rhymes and flow,
Like rain from the clouds*
***Infinite letters, words and phrases
In various permutations we play
Collaboration between heart and mind
Breathed into these pieces that we lay***
*Touching lives with our written form
Healing with words, what's poetically true
Freedom of expression, thoughts and ideals
Crying out in ink, until our sadness is through*
***Similar in thoughts but meander through individual routes
We all sing the same but to different rhythm and tunes
Inscribe our innermost but to varying worthy causes
We all draw inspiration but from the same loyal moon***
*A different form of art, yet art none the same
It's in the eye of the beholder, so they say
Poetry is life drawn in pen, it's not an erasable game
It truly breathes life, looking forward to each new day*
***We proudly fly our diverse flags
United under one banner
We revel in words of poetry
In the hopes they'd last forever***
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Picnic
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My friends laugh elsewhere on the beach
while I sit here, alone, counting the waves,
writing and rewriting your name in the sand ...
Confession
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your image overwhelmed my vision.
As the long nights passed, I became obsessed with your visage.
Then came the moment when I quietly placed my lips to your picture ...
Rain
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why shiver alone in the rain, maiden?
Embrace the one in whose warming love your body and mind would be drenched!
There are no rains higher than the rains of Love,
after which the bright rainbows of separation will glow with the mysteries of hues.
My Body's Moods
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I long for the day when you'll be obsessed with me,
when, forgetting the world, you'll miss me with a passion
and stop complaining about my reticence!
Then I may forget all other transactions and liabilities
to realize my world in your arms,
letting my body's moods guide me.
In that moment beyond boundaries and limitations
as we defy the conventions of veil and turban,
let's try our luck and steal a taste of the forbidden fruit!
Moon
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All of us passengers,
we share the same fate.
And yet I'm alone here on earth,
and she alone there in the sky!
Vanity
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
His world is so simple, so very different from mine.
So distinct—his dreams and desires.
He speaks rarely.
This morning he wrote: "I saw some lovely flowers and thought of you."
Ha! I know my aging face is no orchid ...
but how I wish I could believe whatever he says, however momentarily!
Keywords/Tags: Perveen Shakir, Urdu, translation, Pakistan, love, passion, picnic, beach, vision, confession, rain, rainbow, hues, forbidden fruit, body, *** orchid, mrburdu
What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch
What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~underwater~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles ...
Both worlds grow obscure.
Published by ByLine, Mandrake Poetry Review, Poetically Speaking, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Little Brown Poetry, Little Brown Poetry, Triplopia, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, PW Review, Neovictorian/Cochlea, Muse Apprentice Guild, Mindful of Poetry, Poetry on Demand, Poet’s Haven, Famous Poets and Poems, and Bewildering Stories
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
Moths are born from spider webs,
creatures who make love with seven legs bent over their heads
and that is how I feel for you.
Almost invisible upon the back of plush blacks
merely caught up in a game of Twister, twisted, tied,
birthing beautiful flies -
I want to feel my saliva crawling out from your ****** hair.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 9:10 PM UTC
I love her.
No not ******** worldly,
But softly, purely , celestially.
Obsessively?
Not necessarily, just completely,
selfishly and I'm sorry.
I love her unconditionally, some say unconventionally.
But they don't understand me.
Yes...I love her.
Most spiritually, asexually, platonically and wholly.
I love her, truly, honestly, musically and poetically...
She doesn't have to love me.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
When the baker bakes the baked bakery bakes,
Do they also bake the recipe required?
What's the recipe for a poem?
Does the poet pen the poetical poem poetically to pen their pretty poems?
What temperature do you bake ink-
To make it a bestseller?
How much baking powder do you bake into a page
To perfect its pagey turny pageiness?
What kinda poem crust does a poem become encrusted in?
Should it crumble?
Should it rhyme?
Should it cry a melodrama so dramatic that drama llamas like “that too much drama!”?
Wait,
Where did drama llama come into this?
Who else is in the kitchen cooking this poem pie?
Is the poem pie perfectly pied in its drama crust?
WAIT-
we forgot about the filling…
What do you put in a poetical poem pie?
Should I peach the pied poem?
The peaches plumpy peachy smile?
(i’m not sure how the drama llama feels about that)
Should I fill the peachy pied poem with orange and lemon citrus ?
A little bit of snazz to the snazzy apple pie.
Crap, I forgot the apples as well.
Well now my peachy pied lemony apple-orange poem is too long!
And i still don’t know what temperature to torch these thoughts at!
Well the pied piper pipes in that maybe my peachy pied poem needs some pepper
To pipe the spice to pied poem levels!
But lemony apple-orange peachy pied poems with pepper seems a touch peppery for simple pied poems to be.
But who ever said a poem pied can’t have spice and everything nice WITH lemon and apple and orange and peachy fuzzy smiles?
So,
My peachy peppered pied lemony appley orangy poemy is piping hot to boot.
Now i just need to figure out whos gonna eat the **** thing.
Dec 2, 2021
Dec 2, 2021 at 3:27 PM UTC
Despicability is the foundation to their life
For them it is intrinsic
Genetically encoded
Simplistic
Poetically eroded
Reprehensible at best
**Unscrupulously callous
Secrets and facts, they conveniently
ingest
Distorted byproducts, they release to the
masses
To aid their campaign; a forked tongue
fest**
Pathetic and unapologetic
A beast armed to the teeth
Imported bypasses to increase the flow of police
A weakness and an act,
They so vehemently attest
**Harvesting greens off the branches of
the people
Pockets engorged with wads and folds
Crushing blue collars at the lower levels
As they sit atop their pyramids of gold**
Today they sip champagne
To celebrate their reign
Tonight we'll skip being humane
To feed them excruciating pain
**You've incited this coup with ill-thought
deterrents
Now herald the arrival of the scourge
Down with lopsided governments
Tonight... All we would topple! Tonight we purge!**
Justin G
ryn**
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
she smells (nameless and shameless)
*a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless
morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-a-little-closer-tasting for the summer solstice,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded
the first of the season red spot-stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are mostly gender identifiable
my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within, a ****** hallelujah,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt Nile of the basement waters
the burnt crumbs of illegal in-bed brioche toast
amazingly invisible on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed, was yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things (popcorn pieces)
is just a scratchiest fragrance too far,
needing a sheet wiped clean slate
even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
one of us makes a (vice) presidential declaration:
she smells, I man-ually stink, each,
each glower shower nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass aroma fresh cut,
to exhume and then send away
this odor now christened,*
nameless and shameless
11:47 28/4/19
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
Having read both cell biology & molecular biology in Bachelor's,
This subject seems a lot different when studying it in the Master's.
But I just can't abdicate & concede this point in my master's degree at all,
I'll study creating poems about every major topic to let poetry happen.
That way it'll be easier to revise,
Both poetically and theoretically.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
❤
A man
Not a child
Warm and kindhearted
A little rough around the edges
Sweet and poetically inclined
One that's only mine
No cheaters please
Speaks freely
A tease is fine
I like a challenge
Wealth is not required
But brains and humor is a must
A "freak like me" desired
Green eyes recommended
A golden heart with a platinum soul
*No ******** please*
An equal need to have a hand to hold
A wish for two lips to lovingly kiss
A friend to listen all night
A lover who gives me light
It's just a dream of mine
A lover and a friend
I'm looking to find
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
Screaming
What's the use----??
Flower of the Graces
"The Tenth Muse"
"Everyday Use It"
The earth revolves
Around the sun
Minerals Love it
Drink it vitamin C
Mass of energy A-B-C
The gravity every day
We cannot use it_
Became the play money
Copied tainted not the
Bee's honey here's
The everyday economy
One lick of hope the
envelope not much
company
Everyday- Einsteins
Big profit scope
The brainstorm Reign
All signs detour cabin
Choo Choo train caboose
You nailed it the moose
One footloose
The one-man show
Two women know
The odds to their
advantage
Someone is the traitor
Mom is the Tailor
The zigzag lines
Crazy cat felines
"That's It" punctuality,
Use your capability
"Technet Technology"
take a walk favorite park
Shiba Inu rollover
The bad ones the
Millionaires homes
flip over the do
or dare
We cannot pay
NYC token fare
Words are our power
For Sale quick sales
Being sold
Too hot whats cold
Those emails trying
to delete
(More casualties
Tombstone mummies
Democracy leading us like
dummies chewing Bear
Valentine gummies)
Like the "Elephant Stampede"
New Orleans parade
Every day please donate
We never know about
our fate too early or late
Every day new Providence
Demon computer virus
Love comes with confidence
Love yourself and Venus
Apples and oranges minus
Use it You have a voice!!!
City clean up cockroaches
Swap your fake Rolex
Watchtower index
Trump tower complex
"Eiffel Tower Use It" to be kissed
Every day we need to cleanse
The "Godly Shower" be blessed
Practical Everday Use It
Magical write poetically
Precisely the right piece puzzle
You are the one
World it's you to dazzle*
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 9:54 AM UTC
I try to think poetically
Combine words in ways
That jump off the page
And into the heart of the reader
But I can't.
Instead I'm left alone with my thoughts
All jumbled and pressing against
The bones of my skull
Imprisoned only by my naive tongue.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Emotionally my feelings are poetically ineffable
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
let's make a deal.
uncap the bottle,
discover my greatest work-
a soliloquy on sentience,
performed to an empty room.
the walls
are bleeding lead poisoning again
and i
am leaving logic behind.
the air is crisp on my wretched skin
and as the world dies
its aching breath helps me
to finally feel alive.
i am pure white.
let me rise, enlightened.
as i float, breathless,
i can feel, finally,
the weight of my bones.
make me into a sparrow,
feast upon my marrow,
so i can become porous-
but leave my hollow mind whole.
idolize me.
spin my disease into pure beauty.
a stone-cold rose
grounds the coffin for my dreams,
liberating me from responsibility.
awaken me.
strip my heavy corpse of its wings,
eviscerate the breath from my lungs
cease my tangibility
oh glory,
build me up
strip me down
to my knuckles and teeth,
to the weathered bone.
remove the bloodstains from my home.
if i bleed now
it will be beautiful
when i fall, i
will glorify the cement, decorate it
with my shining insides
when i come down
it will be stunning
it will be dreadful
and i will be resplendent
-but the delivery
won't change the content
candy wrapping
can't cover up the stench of death-
i have given up
on purging the necrosis from my tissue
i have found
this tantalizing muse once again, and
once more i
will let her put cigarettes out
on my sorry skin.
i've grown to love the smell,
that acrid poison
it almost covers up the scars
she leaves-
if i can make dying sound beautiful
then to hell
with us all
if you could romanticise suicide
you'd be rotting
too
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 9:14 PM UTC
/
When you are growing as a poet
your pain is pining to born a poetry
where there are too many clouds of emotions gathering,
also a pensive mood longing
then the thunder of thoughts growing,
your paper is awaiting for the first word
as I was waiting for you, my love
when you were coming slowly
then words of rain raining,
automatically,
randomly
When the first raindrop pings on the pond
even you don't know when it will be stopped
how far it will be covered
which path it will be taken
even its density,
dignity,
or the diversity
Your first word inks on the paper
you don’t know when it will be finished
which way the words will be taken
even you don't know
its size or style,
its fashion or the scheme
Either it's a long or a short
or even a sonnet or a verse
even its rhyming
or the rhythm
You should not think about its length
of course words grow as long as
the metaphors can travel
through its thoughts of cohesion
and its feelings moving
naturally,
poetically
You should not count the words
or even you can't stop within a limit
it makes your thoughts imperfect
rather you can tell totally
about the life,
or can tell about
the love easily
or beyond the life spontaneously
The words can grow 3,5,7
lines for a haiku
or even it goes for a mile for an epitaph
or more for an epic
Poetry executes through words
words come from thoughts
thoughts come from the emotions
and ends with the wisdom
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
hacking the cloud
to paint the sky
- code in words
gets the color
down between the lines -
beneath the verse -
perfectly - poetically
- subversive.
r ~ 10/19/14
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
Trapped in my head
Thoughts I should've said
Words drawn like an artist
This paper is my canvas
The art of written form
My pens creating a storm
Scribbles so energetically
It just comes out poetically
The start of a verbal creation
Ranting and letting out frustration
Written out to sound vocally
Just the way I like my poetry
I'll ask just one question...
Have I made an impression?
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
Poetically vibrating
Intensely radiating
Broken letters synchronistically mating
I love the way I am matchmaking
It's scintillating
A river rush of vowels are grating
Against consonants that were waiting
Sentence structure upraising
And then
I am only making
An attempt at escaping
This world
That is wasting
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
there was
a time in my life
when i didn't know
that
gin
existed.
at some point
someone put a
gin and tonic
in my hand,
and i said with delight,
"this is so refreshing!"
i bought the
cheapest gin
i could find
until i heard
snoop rapping
about tanqueray
and i thought to myself,
"what the hell is tanqueray?"
come to find out,
it is a delicious
gin, in a classy green
bottle with a red stamp.
how lovely!
things were just getting better!
i love limes, and
in no time,
a lime version of tanqueray,
"rangpur" arrived,
and i discovered
DIET LIME TONIC
life seriously couldn't get any better.
let's look at the mathematical equation, shall we?
gin=refreshing=limes=tanqueray=snoop=all around good times
marvelous. let's fast forward a decade.
gin=tanqueray=tears.
i honestly wish
life was not this
way and i
could go back
to the way
gin used to be.
and here is the
point i'm
trying to get to -
i'm so blah ...
so u n i n t e r e s t e d
so unfocused
that the thought
of going into a store
to get tonic was
too much for me to bear.
seriously.
so.
i'm drinking gin. with ice. and a little straw.
i have limes in my fridge,
and lime juice.
i looked at both of these items,
and could not summon
the strength
to move either
from the fridge to
the counter,
let alone my drink.
the next step on the road
to the river styx
is gin with no ice and a straw.
then just gin in a glass.
then just gin straight out of the ******* bottle.
then i would just eat the beautiful tanqueray glass bottle.
that seems to be the jist of things around
this place (by "this place" i mean earth) in general.
it's entropy. pick one of the definitions -
i'm pretty sure that poetically any of them apply.
personally, i think
heat death
sounds the best.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
Write me ******
Converse with in my notebook
Write me in verses
Use lust a word to trace my lips,
kisses in forms of sonnets,
Touch my hair in feather inked pens,
pencil my buttocks with curvy nouns
Endearments in & out like syllables,
while spelling out sensual adjectives
poetically ****** me,
calling out my name
as you rhyme again in and out out and in
****** deeply within me your hard penetrating
Philosophy.
Wrap your hand in mines as you
once more trace your tongue down my notepad
become master *********** within pages of my dairy.
Converse with in my notebook
as we fill up my pages.
Please Please Please
Write me in verses
Write me ******
Write me harder& harder
Faster Please
Write good long as you Write me
Sweet Poets!
Always Me Ayeshah
Mar 13, 2010
Mar 13, 2010 at 7:55 PM UTC
For me, these things don't seem to be matter of questionable choice
If you understand my face, then there's no need to hear my voice
Like a beautiful bird's everlasting melody it sings
Never wasted, for all the joy that it's song brings
Until the grim reaper's phone call eventually rings
And I make an obvious decision on boneless wings
Ride me like a horse, and return me to my stable
Use me then divorce, just like you're stealing cable
Oh no, I broke my leg, hole in my head like a bagel
Is it chicken or the egg, either way life is a fable
choices that we made, until we're no longer able
No brainers weighed, don't ask me booth or a table?
So don't come to me with questions wasting time
If the winds blowing might as well hang a chime
Karma will always cleanse even the perfect crime
Deserted island, poetically just reached my prime
So much to say, but just became a professional mime
Always had two nickels but really wanted a dime
Life's pointless questions, like should a poem rhyme?
To me if you don't, you"re a mexican beer, w/out a lime
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:32 PM UTC
Is there anyone here who wonders where I've been?
Those who still follow my trail of words, per chance
That I poetically scattered yet ordered all the same
As if footprints left by feet once in dance
Do friends fear for my lengthy absence at all?
Or have they turned away to worry another day
Are my words long past enough to keep them close at hand
Even though I did not stay
I am here again if anyone cares although I'm not so sure
And my message is as always the same
My love for you is still full in bloom
Awaiting anyone to finally claim
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
I'm the Afrocentric Gift
you been waiting and dying to open ..,
Christmas came Early just for you this year,
I'm the Thoughts in ya head,
Mind blowing the
Essences of Sexuality,
Wisdom,
Knowledge
and a
multitude of Feminine Power,
Prowling and
Roaring for your affection,
I'm every Women,
Just not to night
I don't want to share,
Be my one & only..,
I am the
Architects building
the bridges back to ya heart,
My Prominent Black African King,
Mr.Sexy as ya wanna be..,
I Dreamed of this many times at night & also for some weeks,
Thoughts of you Thought of us become " We"
Teaming up and Doing
What lovers do,
But
I want more,
I want your heart too,
I see it in you,
the artist ;Your words caressing me,
Like painting and drawing,I'm just one of your sculptures..,
But
I'm the centerpiece of this mental non-nocturnal dream,
Your the
Author writing a great masterpiece only I'm the Main character...,
Chapter one we began slowly as our bodies
mesh&entwined...;,
Can you distinguishes between Fantasy,
I'm here and these feelings are real.
Lust so passionate you'd think you
conjured me up from your imagination.,
I'm un reasonable when it comes to you,
I want to give you unquestionable pleasure.
Be the Concubine you desire & you shouldn't have to wait,
Not tonight anyways.,
Come here and let me show you,
Be mines....,
Sacrifice yourself,
Be my love salve and come away with me..,
I want to give you this
Delicious yet delicate sweet
Afrocentric Gift!
Speak into me poetically,
Mentally blowing my mind ,
touching with words as you hurt me gently
Yet pleasing my body..
take me
cuz
right now
I'm for the taking,
I'm ready and waiting,
open me,
for
tonight I'll be your
Latin mist
You Puerto Rican *** ,
Come get drunk off my love,
Let me sooth you
and
caress you into submission.
Take what's been given.
This Mix, and blend it with you ,
dance to my song
as
I open for you.
I'm ready and willing
to be what you want me to be.
Give
me pleasure
release the yearning
deep with in me...
I'm yours ya Afrocentric Gift!
Always me Ayeshah
Copyrights © 1977-2010 Ayeshah(A.K.K.C.L.N)
All rights reserved.
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 10:28 PM UTC
Framed so poetically, there it stays
Never steps out of its flimsy boundary line but
it takes in everything with him
Inside a a static sea frame, there
roam all the wild guesses you
took:
all blue
all trapped, as erratic and diminishing as it was named.
Was you were to throw that time when
you tried to take to the sea
all into it?
There is no need to make me open my eyes to see something as obvious as this for a even a blind man can see it so crystal clear
in his pitch black vision
I'm closing my eyes and hope it stops
but
***I remember waking up
somewhere in midnight term
drowning in salty seas
and making bitter coffee to
recede the former taste.
I found your diary on the sea
shore with all of the demerara
sugar sand
disconnecting wires in my mind
with overflowing water in the
bathtub
and getting electrocuted.
Alarms when off buzzing with
tick tocks
I found myself with
a pacemaker also
your dying digital clock you had
since forever, displaying
blurs of phobia***
Am I wrong to be trying
to breath underwater
Would it be right to despise
the blue sea that should soothes us
that turned grey for all our
fears we threw in without hesitate
I put all of my fears into this sea,
as a glitched version of your
deceiving eye hue,
demerara sugar on the edge of
your lips lingering in my coffee
chronomentrophobia oh thalassophobia,
yet I was to choose between icy cold ocean air and
falling into clocks' icicle-like hands.
This
is much of an error as it is
a tsunami washing us with a tide of heartache like
over sugared coffee with still bitter taste that melted into
my inner cheeks when I had ulcers
and
you wearing wristwatch while holding my hands.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC