"rework" poems
There it is again. That sound you've known for so long but can never grow comfortable with. It's resonance is beyond anything describable in this world; by these means. You know it so well yet cannot fathom it. Years pass without your awareness of what this thing, this intrusively disturbing abomination truly is. You effortfully and excruciatingly ponder, analyze and rework your thoughts to no avail. You are virtually incapable—and utterly useless.
As you stand, sit, or lie, pondering your lack of discernment, you stop in your tracks.
You realize something you never have before.
What is it?
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
People are ... Funny ... !?!
They Now ... make me laugh ...
You talk ...
They DON'T ... listen ... !?!
MP's ... keep restricting ...
IGNORANCE ... in people ...
has now become ... SICKENING ... !!!!!
Kinda gets me to ... " Thinking " .....................
What a ... CRAZY WORLD ... !!!!!!
Girls ... Loving girls ...
Men ... Killing men ... !!!
Abuse of our children ...
by some who ... Teach them ... ???
But ......
What about those ... ?
with ... Abusive children ... ?!?
Those who ... Don't Care ...
about those ... who ... Made Them ... !!!
Adults are now ...
being chased by ... Children ... ?!?
Teenagers ........
RAGE ... !!!!!!!
Their acts of ... Aggression ...
are now ... OFF THE GAUGE ... !!!!!
Words on ... This Page ...
are my feelings ... Today ...
What more can I say ... ?
I write things ... This Way ...
to avoid seeing life
behind bars ... in a cage ...
Seems like ...
... " End of Days " ...
is Not ... far away ... !!!
But Many ... DON'T LIKE ...
The things that I say ...
because .....
Things that I say ...
Reflect on ........................................
What's TRUE ... !!!!!
But Many think wrongness ...
is just .... TV News ....
But ....
" Some of it's " ..... True .......
and can happen to ... YOU ... !!!
So ....
What would you do ... ?
if ... Sadness and Misery ...
Tainted ... your view ... !?!
Probably ........
LOSE YOUR COOL ... !!!!!!!
Be an *** ...
or it's ... Mule ...
Give in ... to clues ...
that you ... HAVEN'T BEEN ... true ... !!!
True about ... " Things " ...
that ... Luxury brings ...
Like ... " Flash Golden Rings " ... !!!
or ... Diamonds that ... BLING ... !!!!!
Well ...
Here's the ... " Dilemma " ... ???
Life is for ... LIVING ...
but now we see ... KILLING ...
for ... Mobiles that ... " Ring " ... ?!?
or Jewellery that ... BLINGS ... !!!?!!!
So ....
What will you choose ... ?
to think you're a ... KING ... ?
cos' of ...
Your .... Diamond Ring .... ?
and .... wait for the ... KILLER ...
to come with ... " The Sting " ... !?!
Oh now ...
Just for you ladies ...
Let's ... " Rework " ... the scene ...
You've got to ... Realise ....
Luxury's ... for a ... " Queen " ...
But .....
to those who ... Don't have them ...
Your Bling ... is ... OBSCENE ... !!!!!!!!
Then YOU ...
like the ... Fellas' ...
Might find that ... " Your Dream " ...
is SHATTERED ... One Night ...
by a ... RUTHLESS ... " Street Team " ... !!!
I'm CHANGING ... like seasons ...
because of ... " These Reasons " ...
cos' actions ... some make ...
are Equal to ... TREASON ... !!!!!!!!
I REALLY ... am Dark ...
like that man ... Liam Neeson ...
This life has ... MORE MEANING ... !!!
than ... " Custom Made " ... Jewellery ... !!!
Like Bruce ...
when i'm writing ....
My fists ... bring the ... " FURY " ... !!!!!
cos people act ... CRAZY ... !!!!!
Their outlook seems ... " Hazy " ...
to make themselves money ....
Their Slim's ... REALLY SHADY ... !!!!!
Do you ...
Trust your lady ... ???
to bring up ... " Your Baby " ...
When Coc' ... is ... " The Drug " ...
she likes to take .... DAILY .... !!! ? !!!
Well ..........
Maybe just ... " Maybe " ... ???
If you see ... what I see ...
when you ... look around you ...
You may just agree ...
with ... A Brother ... like me ...
The world we now live in ...
is TRULY ....
..... " CRAZY " .....
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
O Savior, deliverer of my wasting life here.
Create in me strength to overcome my trials.
Teach me how to lay down my sins here.
For I want to be going to heaven after I pass away.
So do a mighty transforming inside of my life.
Rework my attitude, among my behavior too.
Transform me into your likeness Lord God.
Heal me, restore me, create in me a righteous heart.
Create in me a steadfast spirit, finish your work in me.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
**Rework The possible, rethink the rest
don't be blind, don't ignore mankind
finance and commerce, profit obsessed
imagine, the whole world re-designed
with both you and I in mind.**
... ... ...
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 2:48 AM UTC
The sky kept speaking in a dialect of grey,
did stay overcast all through the day,
like a new bride upset about
her nuptials, right after it.
"Could have been with some zest,
I feel drowsy and totally lost"
she repeatedly whispers, it seemed .
A vast net of haze fell, first on the skyscrapers
standing in a row, pushing, jostling,fighting,
it then descended slyly on to the tree tops
adorned with garlands of flowers
red, cream, or violet on their coiffures.
They looked lost, at this turn
of the story, unexpected.
A helicopter, with tourists
Criss -crossed the sky as if clueless,
perhaps seeing sights in that light
curious, who knows what they look for
in a bad hair day like this?
we could hardly guess!
A stray bird appeared, as if from nowhere
hastily retreated, sensing the prevailing mood.
"We'll just stay put" she said "til the night would
rework the story board. perhaps with starlight "
She bit hard on my upper arm, as if
to exhibit her aggressive mood just once
I loved it , she deftly made it erogenous.
She is a tigress, forcefully kept in her den
with a purpose, she slyly smiles imagining.
When the wave of oily dark night advances
inundating us, she is a promise, exquisite
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
Through voracious eyes devotees, peruse writings, clever literature all styled to thoughtful poetic ways
eloquently, exposing wounds of body and soul, discovered distrust, anger much regret, sadly even fear,
thereto shortcomings in life, of people, their actions, loves and lies promulgated in illuminating phrase.
Technology endows contributors with outlets for venting suchlike occasions using artistry is here.
Passionate poignant experiences most well written, some not are duly shared to attracted communal eyes.
declarations of 'I have cared so much I'm wounded mortally', some bask in lost or unrequited loves last kiss,
several employ inner strength 'whatever happened, I don't care, I'm resilient, I survive', shared with poetic pride
concise verses rework obvious reminders, may motivate suggestion that opportunity shouldn't be missed.
Modest words abundantly profound begin remarks that reassures, with the - I'm here for yous'- symbolic embrace,
in support it is written, 'I know what you mean' and from a great distance - empathise, but I have little to say.
Health issues aren't fixed by artistic pennings, only face to face professional advice forms the strongest base,
Writings from the poetic inner self may become positive steps, for futures not, staring in depressions face.
Much is written with sensitivity oft-times is judged by content, overlooked is why and how it is composed.
For instance suicide educes fear however. dubiety invites, is it fiction or truly despair?
Writing as an art observes, describes, creates imagery, of sadness and joy, escapism, fictional or no.
Poetic creators who web-wide commune through stories, thoughts, secrets, ideas, dreams, let the poetry be shared .
Poetry www Michael C Crowder 12th January 2019 @scorsby
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 9:16 AM UTC
Today my friend looked me in the eyes and told me that
If I give any more of myself away, I’m not going to have any parts left for myself
But I don’t need any more of me.
I have too much of me.
I want to give it all away.
Even when I know that it’ll end up at the bottom of your backpack
or forgotten in a laundry basket
or on the ground outside of your favorite coffee shop
I want to give and give until you can’t empty out your pockets without finding pieces of me.
I want you to go to a baseball game, sing the national anthem,
and put your hand over your heart
Only to realize that there’s a perfect indention
in the shape of my hand
in the middle of your chest, pushing
Beating for you
I want to fill your lungs with my breath
Even though I know I’ll never get it back
Just so I know every sigh is of me
I want to be your oxygen mask
To suffocate knowing that you can breathe a little bit easier
I’ll give my hands to your ribcage,
So maybe I can feel how you hold yourself together.
I’ll give my lips to your body
Leaving secrets down your neck, and your shoulder blades, your hip bones
Stitch together the scars you’ve left open with the most private parts of me
Until you can hold another person in your arms without splitting yourself apart
I want to give it all away.
Until I run out of me to give you, or things to leave behind
And once you’ve collected all of me.
Every hidden inch of my being
When you find me under your fingernails,
in the melody of your favorite song
Hidden in your bedsheets
And all I can do is rework the scraps I have left
Into a frame that might resemble a person who remains
Unapologetically full
I will still wish I could give you more.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
When I pretend everything is what I want it to be
I look exactly like what you always wanted to see
When I pretend, I can't forget about the criminal I am
Stealing second after second just cause I know I can but
I can't pretend this is the way it'll stay I'm just
Trying to bend the truth
I can't pretend I'm who you want me to be, so I'm
Lying my way from
If you feelin like a **** ***** go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, go and brush your shoulders off
****** is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
I probably owe it to God, props to His Son of course
Tryin to hustle some things, that tranquilize a horse
Feelin no remorse, feelin like my hand was forced
Middle finger to the law, better read up the psalms
All the ladies they love me, but the Preachers they screamin
All His Body is bouncin they like the way I be Beamin,
All the trappers be hatin, off the sack that I'm makin
But all the shamans they love it just to see one of us make it
Came from the bottom the bottom, to the top with pots
Yeshua Son of Man, of His plan I talk
Like a running back, get it man, I'm straight off the block
I can run it back ***** cause I'm straight with His rock.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
If honesty was a skill it'd be something you lack,
It's so hard to keep going as I still look back,
Maybe I'm a fool, a fool for unforgiving love...
When your heart rips open is that finally enough?
Simplicity was all I've seen,
Wish you would still hold my hand as I walk along the streets.
A bed fit for two but it's only me,
Use to lay, use to rest but now i can hardly sleep,
As nightmares have come and taken over dreams.
If someone told me lonieness is where my life would lead,
I would close my eyes, block em out and never hear them speak.
Think it's time to rework these mental images, as I press Delete.
Passion, where have those lips gone?
Why must it take losing love to write the perfect song.
Why must it take, losing love...to write the perfect song (guitar playing)
uhmmm, she's gone away,
Yeah,
But I would erase this song just for you to stay.
Uhmm
But still...
Why must it take losing love, to write the perfect song.
Uhmm..why'd she go away. (Last guitar strum)
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
The algorithm we live in
has become the dumb
nightmare we’ve been given,
a constant flow of concessions,
sad contrivances to survive this
cog in the machine existence.
The fight seems pointless
with only minor bouts of resistance.
If history teaches us anything
it is only labor movements,
those unions that win men
woman and children
any real economic equality.
There won’t be any eulogy
for this lie we call democracy,
while men of prestige and property
have been constantly fighting
against those who bring the lightning
of enlightening insights about this fight.
Shrinking borders while expanding profits,
supporting fascists regimes,
whilst demolishing and reorganizing
governments that try socializing
their own country’s resources.
Our local war mongers
want to rehabilitate
the image that people hate
twist and change the slang,
rework and spin everything
over and over again
as the kings of what is truly Orwellian.
They are so close to destroying
the environment and
every human edifice,
every ounce of progress
in the name of
capitalistic measurements of success.
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 2:00 PM UTC
“It’s all ********
She mouthed
cocking a drunken head and lighting a broken cigarette.
up,
up,
I looked her up,
and down again.
"Between just us
us friends
it'll be fine
just fine in the-"
"I know."
As she looked away
she showed me soft grace
a wrinkled nose and tired eyes
posture of those patron saints.
I poured out two gins
taking both
she smiled.
Both gone
She saved
not a single, sip.
"You're beautiful"
I mumbled
and
she smirked.
Made upward movement
taking a lucky
she brought fire
up to the tip.
Lips pursed together
tongue pushing spit out
toward and around the dirt
at my fumbling feet.
When we were done,
the smoke clinging
to those auburn curls.
She lay back arching.
Those fluttered eyes,
drove my aching muscles,
reaching for her open smile,
as, with slippery digits
I played our sighs together.
Petting
heavy
heavy as the world sitting
on my worried head.
Watch it crack under pressure
The gory puddle of my expressions
in her lap.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
I cannot hate you
though only God knows how hard i try
It's not our songs that make me cry
it was the dance we shared
I rework the steps in head
trace the thread from end to start
yet the filaments fray under touch
observation, physics, shift
and the memories are never clear
the only thing I know
is i fell in a trap
deceived by my better half
my better half
no longer whole
bitter fermentation of the fruits of love
drown again in the bottle
of aged oak drink
hop and barley
they said I was ****** but can't recall
yet there's a picture of me unconscious
***** sprayed upon painted brick walls
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
Love is both a vice and a curse,
A blessing in which you find yourself immersed;
A progressive, regressive, digressive pursuit,
In which you lose yourself many times in search of a route,
To lasting happiness, which still blinks from afar;
Like the distant light of a parked car,
As if someone forgot to switch off the high beams,
Or is there a reason that this pitch blackness now gleams?
Love causes you to return broken patterns,
In which insecurity orbits like the 62 moons of Saturn.
Escape it, escape it! Find solace in pain!
Find solace in the left or right side of your brain!
Like the frontal assault during Op Barbarossa,
You seem to confuse old Taiwan with Formosa.
In doubles, you see, when your love stares you down,
You want nothing more but to be her great crown,
So you let down your walls and pull-back your defenses;
Your protective soldiers fall back to the fences.
You talk with 'I,'
And realize that you're oft wrong,
Yet prior to this, you sung yourself an old swan song,
To convince yourself that your views were God-given;
Despite the true fact that you define Atheism.
Prior to this, no one countered your 'great' words;
Or, if they did, often you considered them of herds,
Which had no capacity to understand life;
They would much quicker fall towards the shaft of the knife.
You rework the office inside of your head,
And forget all the things about love you once said,
When ex-girlfriends had dumped you like a sack of potatoes;
And would verbally stain you with far-flung tomatoes.
Yet tossed in the mix are the words of the stars,
Telling you whose compatible, is it Venus or Mars?
Forget the external, this love is but yours and but hers.
Never let the rest determine,
As you're the connoisseur.
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 12:04 PM UTC
That Soggy Winter Night,
when the rain beat heavy on the old wood of the cabin
and the air smelled like dust,
and candles,
and fresh moss,
and wilted leaves,
and anticipation.
It all started with us listening to the rain through an open window.
Those hours of morning when the sun still hides,
smoking cigarettes ,
and smoking homegrown,
and drinking water ,
and whiskey,
and sharing unmistakable looks,
that both of us where too eager and scared to put words to.
So we pretended to both be tired.
So we could lie down together,
and huddle close,
and save warmth,
like burning coals rapped together in a blanket of ash.
This was the hesitant placation of our urges.
But it had to be more subtle,
more drawn out,
than both of us wanted it to be.
So I waited until I couldn't stand it anymore
reaching out a single hand from the opposite side of the bed
to see if it was ok.
You grabbed it,
and pulled yourself closer,
as if you were pulling yourself away
from the brink of a deadly mountain’s cliff.
We stayed wrapped together all night,
the mess of your hair sticking to my face
because I stayed wrapped around you.
It wasn't until the sun came up
that both our heartbeats settled
and my muscles and mind relaxed
and our breathing slowed
and we could slip into a dream
with bodies weak from wanting.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
This is another set of poems i wrote that I have been trying to turn into a song. It's composed loosely, for that's the way I write - kind of from the center out, and I don't like to rework my words too much because I find that it alters the original intended feeling, so please forgive the grammarical errors and call it creative liscense.
I've been a fool,
I've been a fool, it's true
Now I live without you
Without you by my side
I can't go on
I don't want to go on without you
If at night you hear the wind is moaning
Your lonely soul is groaning
Think back, you'll find
I'm on your mind
There was a time when you were mine
Everytime the phone rings and there's a hang-up on the line
If you search for what is lost it's me you'll find
At the end of the mystery...
Though I'm a poor man,
And I'm tired
I'll never tire of loving you.
If you're alone and you can't stop crying,
cry,
cry for me, too.
I'll weep for you.
There was a time when you were mine.
Footnote: This was writen about obssession a long time ago, but now I think it's more about the subject just THINKING he was obssessed. And no, it's not about me but, in my writing I have always been able to empathize with various points of view.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
I don't mean to be an inconvenience
but it'd be irrepressible to be alone
and, given time to find out my own flaws,
I can rework myself, digest myself a bit,
and have a better way to present it,
even though I know you'll resent it.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
we sit
moon in transition
dancing off glassed ripples
filled with breath; bread
he pulls me to him
live in vulnerable nakedness;
cherry orchards spraying fire
into his sky
hold me tight; tighter
silence screams. melodies.
unspoken words hang heavy
while demons dance within
can’t you see i’m looking for you?
close; closer
the mangos have fallen;
(consumed by the spring)
to rework our truth
we should just sleep together
night falls; darker in questions.
silence laps an metaphorical shores
where together our bodies should lay
you should go before it’s too late
tears glisten, manifest. the loss
of not knowing your skeletons
hanging from my trees
and i silently scream
wait for me;
it is not here
that you will find me.
but not here
i whisper
is better
than nowhere.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
Time,
oh time is a silly thing,
it proves things right
and it proves them wrong.
Its’ seemingly long years change you and all that can be touched.
Time-
this illusion we base our lives around, this illusion we obsess over
(don’t deny it, we all do).
It confines us to a routine, to a norm.
The time spent at desks makes us into zombies.
The time spent after chokes us with copious amounts of papers and projects.
But occasionally it grants us a wondrous thing called
wisdom.
It bestows upon us insight and growth.
My always shrewd teenage self has grown to believe that time…
can go **** itself.
I want to fall into a slumber that is a day or two long,
catch up on rest and miss the trials of everyday life.
Of course, once several days pass or several thousand ticks of a clock,
I’ll crave another respite.
Life.
Life is hard.
It’s tiring.
And somehow there is never enough time to
work,
work on the work,
rework the work,
eat,
sleep,
take a couple deep breathes to keep from jamming a stapler into any eyeballs,
be a healthy person,
and do all the things that society tells you to do.
Maybe a designated sleep day would be nice.
If we only need 8 hours of peaceful slumber
for every 16 hours of traumatizing wakefulness,
then sleeping for 24 hours would give us
48 hours of working.
Right?
No.
But it’s a proportion,
so theoretically it should make sense.
Which leads me to conclude that 8 hours is not merely enough time to rest.
Unless you’re under the age of 6.
Or you’re retired.
Or in a coma.
Or…
But no.
No, no, no, no, no.
We must keep going.
Like good little soldiers
on and on
for 60 years,
70 years,
80 years?
I’m sorry but that just does not appeal to me.
Why oh why would I want to work my body to unhealthy levels.
Why oh why would I want to exhaust my mind to points of breakdowns
nearly
every
day.
It’s silly to want to have enough time to eat healthily.
And hit the gym 3 or 4 times a week.
And sleep until recharged.
Yes that’s preposterous.
Ridiculous.
Time is an illusion
that is ruining lives.
If we have an illusion
destroying us from the inside out,
does that make us
crazy?
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
Emanation and conceptualisation
Imaginations of constellations
Can I try to reach the stars?
A place within
Inside and within reach
I can’t suspend a resolution of truth
Lay to rest and die alone
Inside a hole of my own creation
Why must you torment me with your lies?
And your life
Relent again
~ Reflect upon the self ~
>> Then write <<
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:13 AM UTC
Saw it happen.
Witnessed it. Did not experience.
Yet, left with a more interesting outlook.
An objectivity can rise above. Settle down. Rework, reword, reward, rewarm.
WHY DID I SEE THIS. WHY WAS I CHOSEN FOR THIS RESPONSIBILITY.
Screaming in the large end of the megaphone.
Screaming for the world to let you down.
Clutching at the door handle, hoping to emerge into a forest of rifles, a city-hive of pollen pushers, an oasis of blood.
Suddenly it makes sense...communication without contact.
Words on a page, worms on a plate.
Wards an’ a cage, words in a place.
This is our medium, through which I can love you, for better or worse, the medium that is.
The medium carries a meaning without judgement.
The judgement, if and when the word is received, is irrelevant.
The last dead deer rises, taking back his rightful place as the last living deer in a dying world.
The green world empties its poison, sheds its thorns, ***** out its parasite.
The glass is half empty.
Now its half full.
The glass is empty of meaning.
Now its full of ****
My skin is raw and bleeding.
My love is as real as rifles.
They both hurt.
In different ways.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
Your heart brings the warmth I seek,
Doing the little things that matter to me.
You listen so well with your cute little ears,
And can hear me when I’m not even near.
Your eyes speak of fall’s endless leaves,
And leave me with repeating sweet dreams,
Where you could be you and I could be me.
Still wondering why these dreams aren’t realities.
You play my heart like a crimson-stained guitar,
Drawing me to you, no matter how far.
You know the strings, you know how they work.
I’m used to fixing, but with you there’s nothing to rework.
Your jeans are the sky’s only limit,
I can’t help but staring for endless minutes.
Your sweater makes sparks fly with every niche,
And I helpless fall for it with every stitch.
You are a present just waiting to be opened,
You have so much in you yet you don't show it.
Love has to be hidden, love has to be found,
Now I give in and embrace your every sound.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 9:43 PM UTC
dear home,
i’m sorry. for everything. wholeheartedly. i’m sorry for leaving you with empty space i felt uneasy filling. for doubting you were my scripted setting. for losing faith that you could fully foster me. for getting too comfortable, falling victim to fickle feelings. for getting caught in the hypnosis of distance. for taking your endless roads for granted when they cradled me along. i’m sorry i didn’t listen when they said light is crucial to grow. and not the artificial kind i’ve come to know. i don’t love what i left you for like i thought i would. now i’m slowly learning a lesson in choosing rash choices. you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. some cliches are that way for a reason. but best believe i’m drenched in the karma of leaving you in the embers. i’m burning too but in other worse ways. you see, consequence caught up to me. it’s coarsened my skin and forces fake smiles. it lodges pits in my guts and steals lustre from thoughts. i’ve suffered. i deserve it. but make it not for nothing. because i miss your aura. i miss your seas. i miss the way we moved with ease. i don’t know a god, but i pray to the sky, that you haven’t forgotten those paramount nights. where we made memoirs out of nothing more than time. the moments we drank each other in. i soaked in your sun, and you in my skin. dear, dear home, please take me back. if you haven’t filled my space with a more steady heart, we can rework our tempos or just restart. it’s a tough sell, i know, but i’m ready to evolve. be my sunstone. be my backbone. be a part of me in any way. i’ll turn my insides to clay to be what you need. whatever it is just please, please, please.
love,
a misplaced migrant
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 12:44 AM UTC
a
i like to rework old poems
lily
(i am lazy..)
after all
what is reality..?
just a load of moments
this barbed fence
a thorny ball
a burning lens
a *** note
what is it
lily needs her
morning coffee..
b
but work is work
and love is
indefatigable
some seagull
dissecting blue
skies
wild flowers
outside my
windows
all the seasons
change
change
to stay the same
summer rain
living
dying
sparrows
singing
happiness
circling..
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 7:45 AM UTC
Some people may say
that the future is already written.
But I think it might surprise you.
You never know the secrets of another’s heart
So you can't know the future.
Put up a good enough fight
And destiny will fall to pieces
Line up those pieces
In a different way
And rework the threads of destiny.
Our one destiny can be changed
And you never know what could happen
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:53 AM UTC
Not yet plant or earth but soon.
Not yet runes or sin immune
In this room, and as my tomb,
My voice, only speaks as blooms:
Maybe then the creatures and eaters
Can make a home out of this unbeliever
For maybe I perceived or perhaps I was the deceiver
But I hope that in death,
I could be their redeemer
So when the weavers weave their homes
All along my bones,
My tryst with the reaper
Are where the feasts were.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 10:04 AM UTC