"ros" poems
i always wanted to
try listening to the
debut album of
a british goddess
while ironically
killing my own
pair at sunrise --
but as plans often go
south for mice and
men equally, so do
my own;
languid
wakefulness ran
down my gullet
like seconds on
a smooth cocktail
seasons too late,
and moreover,
my addled brain
forgot the catalyst
the night before
last when i was
trudging along
in the dark and
some saviors in
a cheap white
chariot pulled
into the parking
space beside me,
telling me to
get in --
like they knew
or i knew, or we
all had some odd
mutual feeling of
positive vibrations;
like reminiscing
about early in
last august when
a mysterious scarf-
clad traveler with
sacred arabic
etched into his
hands slipped
me an equally
sacred slip of
paper with
nothing more
to give it purpose,
reason, definition,
or validation, than
that single glorious
and grammatically
incorrect pairing
of expressive
awareness.
i don't plan to meet
the pilgrim again,
regardless of our
unfinished affairs,
but sitting on that
little square of cloth
on top of manicured
lawn in cosmic harmony
with strangers, new friends,
serenaded by sigur ros
and kept company by
grouplove, i've never felt
more enlightened,
more awestruck,
more tuned into
those frequencies
above human
perception,
broadcasting
the only message
we deny ourselves
indefinitely --
happiness.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 3:42 PM UTC
LOL is different from Lol,
LOL is League Of Legends and Lol is Laugh out loud.
ROS is different from Ros,
ROS is Rules Of Survival and Ros is my Rules of Saving (You).
ML is different from Ml,
ML is Mobile Legend and Ml is My love for you.
But Online Games are not so different from Me,
Online Games are the things you play and Me is a piece you also played.
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 3:47 AM UTC
rosees satin doll favorite orange hair thick clothe ciggerett on addas shiny pants accedent the whole doll little nos you would remember it peach polka a dot dress and ya the ros the top of my hamper wicker basket and nope never remebered to rember any of that the doll part with the polka dot dress *** i trhew the ***** bend with dithces caves and wholes the holes those are my windy road holes and the ditch just got taken care of that sentences with ditche started with a long widy road the caves was in casers i could never explain how i got my words but i sewed every one of them up and i got all my papers stolen and everything else happended too wow **** so i dont know no more again but *** k wait again yep im the **** fewfiefofum low and i dont tknow vwhat the mother **** **** is **** ya i did it was a sence i was ggoing to be talking an my greatest fear was alwasy well mark once said lurp and right before he said it it landed on me and i was checking him for the first time i said i lurp and he saidvicki dont say lurp becuse he started with dont he was at his breaking point and i just found out a second ago any fiefofee he got ****** up and almost killed and i have a question do people ypou people know get ****** up for passing seses cause i am dethly afraid i am going to pass one that sys i o i have to say the word out loud o o kay well let me try hold up i am quick well because i roll something in a row doesnt mean it hooked even though it hooked i just rolled by it dude and ya i hooked it It might be illegal on a jank undergo
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 5:39 PM UTC
You describe the tree tops as majestic,
and cats, and trampolines, and pancakes with no egg,
not even milk, not even a drop of milk.
Your postcards wont be able to find me,
so don't bother wasting your stamps,
use them for something important,
like potatoes, or some fake eye lashes.
Side-hugs are awkward,
so are nervous people,
and I get especially nervous
when you ask my friends to lick your toes.
My tongue is rough,
like a cats tongue,
and no one wants to kiss a cat,
because a cat hides behind the cracks.
Inside the cracks noise makes,
and in the color of your eyes.
I write out my secrets,
bold, and italic
Hoping someone will realize that I'm lying,
or that I wish I was lying.
That everything I say is a joke,
or that every sincere piece of literature is burning
in the flames that are your eyes,
and it's going to leave scars deeper than you could imagine.
My nails are getting long,
but my clippers are still stuck in that mans left eye,
(not that it matters, he deserved what he got).
I've thought about imprisonment,
and it didn't take me too long to realize that I'm living it,
or that I can see it in my best friends laugh lines,
or in the corners of her brothers eyes.
A whale once told me about her experience:
"All the corners meet brick by brick
I'm stuck in a cell and I'm getting sick
the food is gross
I want to listen to Sigur Ros
BUT I CAN'T
because I did a bad thing"
I guess I don't have any room to complain about love,
or friendship, or **** or torture, or birth,
no matter how traumatic people say it is.
I'll always be stuck in my head,
and to me,
that's worse than anything.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 8:01 PM UTC
rosees satin doll favorite orange hair thick clothe ciggerett on addas shiny pants accedent the whole doll little nos you would remember it peach polka a dot dress and ya the ros the top of my hamper wicker basket and nope never remebered to rember any of that the doll part with the polka dot dress *** i trhew the ***** bend with dithces caves and wholes the holes those are my windy road holes and the ditch just got taken care of that sentences with ditche started with a long widy road the caves was in casers i could never explain how i got my words but i sewed every one of them up and i got all my papers stolen and everything else happended too wow **** so i dont know no more again but *** k wait again yep im the **** fewfiefofum low and i dont tknow vwhat the mother **** **** is **** ya i did it was a sence i was ggoing to be talking an my greatest fear was alwasy well mark once said lurp and right before he said it it landed on me and i was checking him for the first time i said i lurp and he saidvicki dont say lurp becuse he started with dont he was at his breaking point and i just found out a second ago any fiefofee he got ****** up and almost killed and i have a question do people ypou people know get ****** up for passing seses cause i am dethly afraid i am going to pass one that sys i o i have to say the word out loud o o kay well let me try hold up i am quick well because i roll something in a row doesnt mean it hooked even though it hooked i just rolled by it dude and ya i hooked it It might be illegal on a jank undergo
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
Seems the best music is
Coming out of Sweden these days
Iceland and Sweden
Nordic strains for angels to sing
Cleverly hidden love songs to the
Real God who listens
Who understands the language
And recognizes each emotional inflection
In the voice even when the language
Is gibberish, gobbledygook
Smiles thought it all
Revealing these ice white molars
He seems so proud of
Truth be told he's proud of Imannu El
And Sigur Ros
They represent they heavenly choir
On earth quite well
They are his gift to a tired people
To the jaded and cynical
May their innocence bring a moments
Bliss
To the beaten down and ready-to-die
May their harmonious melodies
Shine a light on one more joy filled day
To took forward to
And if that fails let the be joy and bliss
Within themselves
To keep the poor man company
Thus fulfilling the will of the Lord
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
.
rose rose
rose rose ros
e rose rose ro
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose r ose rose rose ro
se rose rose r ose rose rose
rose rose rose rose
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
I almost wrote a love song today but then I made myself ***** it away
Because love songs are overrated and have been ruined over time
I enjoy sounding this way
It's the common belief of some of the best people I've met
And that list is dwindling because people keep disappointing me
I'm an ******* for saying that
but my brain likes to set high expectations and I can't break my own habit
So I am an ******* it's ok, I've been an ******* and I'll always be an ******* internally I guess
I wonder if you are remembering what I said to you
Because I'm thinking about you and how I don't know you but I can't stop knowing you in my head
but I've set up nonexistent scenarios that have crashed and burned and that's why I'm sad about you
We will hang soon, don't worry little brain
My brain likes to worry and my heart just likes Sigur Ros
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
Lassàt in tal recuàrt
a fruvati, e in ta la lontanansa
a lusi, sensa dòul jo i mi inpensi
di te, sensa speransa.
(Al ven sempri pì sidìn e alt
il mar dai àins; e i to pras plens
di timp romai àrsit, i to puòrs vencs
ros di muarta padima, a son ta l'or
di chel mar: pierdùs, e no planzùs).
Lassàs là scunussùs
ta ciamps fores-c'dopu che tant intòr
di lòur ài spasemàt
di amòur par capiju, par capì il puòr
lusìnt e pens so essi, a si àn sieràt
cun te i to òmis sot di un sèil nulàt.
659
No need for blanket statements
To keep you warm at night
A fraction of a volcano
Is all we need to be reminded
Of the sweetest things in life
We sow the seeds of discontentment
And select our portion of the heavens
Because when it rains it pours
And when you're ****** you snore
As loud as a thousand sleeping serpents
Disenchanted on a semester out at sea
Feel free to dramatize your shadows
And create your own cages
You can decorate them with candles
But portraying fear is not the answer
We may personify victory as a dancer
Until we are all cantankerous old shadows
And flaming arrows land on our papers
We are out of place like sand in a limo
I birth poems for Eros
Images appear in your rear-view mirror
You are my hero
Imagination is a flavor
That I would love to explore
You are the color of my endurance
And if our performances are frozen
Then we'll have no more gas for the fire
Tonight let's get a little closer
And tell the stories of our ancestors
Only your magic highlighter
Could turn all of these
Strange words into poetry
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
it rained on the drive
home and brett fell
asleep early on beneath
the hum of sigur ros
and I realized my
thighs were warm
and I was living and
breathing and you
should want me
you should want
me because I am
warm and living and
breathing.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
Sleep and dreams
Make everything bearable
This is my favorite part of the day
When the room is dark
And my bed is soft
I wrestle a few memories
From the clutches of a forsaken antipsychotic
Let them float for awhile
Hoping for more eventually
I can feel the fated-to-be-forgotten
Psychedelic glow of the Ambien
Kicking in
Who knows how long these trips last
None of it remembered in the morning
I love the way it pulls no punches
Sleep and apple juice
For dream making
Such thick darkness
Buffers sound
But I hear what I can hear
On the journey
And it sounds good
My whole life in 3333 songs
With a few notable gaps
The result of artists who won't allow
Their music to be streamed
They can't hold out forever
Soon enough the soundtrack to my life
Culminated in this room
Will be complete
Wired
I can pump it in non-stop
To remind me of who I was
Of who I am
But for now I have all I need
Time loses it's grip
Space forgets it's place
I sink
I float
I sight-see
Works of art no one will ever see/experience
Colors unfamiliar
Landscapes untethered by gravity
Roger Dean meets Salvador Dali
Meets Pink Floyd meets Sigur Ros
Until we reach that place that is not wrapped up in time or space
Meet the gas giant goddess
Responsible
Recline in her ***** unaware
For a few hours of peaceful integration
I renounce all occult knowledge
Procured over the years
It has warped my thoughts
It has too often taken my eye off of the prize
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC