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"shadier" poems
In this deranged, fertile light - which makes shadier our sight -, come and sit with me, right here to join the passage's rite of a generous dark to find. Unlit your cigarette with that sleight move by offering it to the night and, from the ashtray of dreams and might, augur my future; see the fright for armoring me against its smite. And say: I bound all these tribes of kite and bury you under the ashes and blight; deep inside the hallways of the iron hill to quite. Burn - you say -, and they all become trite for they only promised me two-tongued daylight but, now on, all I can see is the fire of my dark bright.
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Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 1:40 PM UTC
diana-bosa-engler
Rite
In this deranged, fertile light - which makes shadier our sight -, come and sit with me, right here to join the passage's rite of a generous dark to find. Unlit your cigarette with that sleight move by offering it to the night and, from the ashtray of dreams and might, augur my future; see the fright for armoring me against its smite. And say: I bound all these tribes of kite and bury you under the ashes and blight; deep inside the hallways of the iron hill to quite. Burn - you say -, and they all become trite for they only promised me two-tongued daylight but, now on, all I can see is the fire of my dark bright.
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surfeit- stuck on the clipboard, shadow of muse long shadier than many counterfeit What good did I lose, when I lost a day, when I lost yesterday, man, the best hold on the whole idea, we ever had, duty we share in the world that we occupy, we inhabit, so whatever good we do gets done, one day at a time, in this wilderness, aspirational inspiration is as fleeting as a thought never written, but, if you caught the fleeting thing, and wrote in the most flowing effluently efficacious way, beautiful zone shone known knowns and lost it to a literal glitch, an old forgotten buffer flush lost in transfer from chaos, through some kind of standard query language patented Microsoft gadget, for which, now, I must wish a fix, a certain deja vuish recovery that must be in here, some place I must seek to find, or, leave it go, one day, what the hell, the nonsense of that as a question or an expletive at a surprise, a wrinkle a surfeit patience fabrication, too compleatly much idle time, too little aim at being seen at the scene of the last confident lay down, almost all I'll go rythms that we hear, after sufficient trust exposure surprise is never the plan, value for value idle words for idle time. A matched wisdom, seeing the worth of the effort to be doing over, ever put right where the surfeit nothing was… put in place holding peace pose So, now, then sad, sorta, not bad, or mad. At peace, permanence advantage, eternally true when you know you knew backups exist, or believed you knew… tov ra, towb ra' gnosis, da'ath chabad advantage wisdom, is the kingdom of truth, which, it is writ, the God Jesus worships, the spirit of truth, in truth must be taken at true value Faire and far dhe put here. Say that tree holds witness, with our wits about us we do more thinking than other doing so… Thinking, that other day… deemed written off, but loved, didn't we survive yesterday, ain't this so, so we might make peace, enough to fill the Boötes Void. Using poems read once imagined twice.
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Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 6:18 PM UTC
kenpepiton
Coping with lost lines and one whole day
surfeit- stuck on the clipboard, shadow of muse long shadier than many counterfeit What good did I lose, when I lost a day, when I lost yesterday, man, the best hold on the whole idea, we ever had, duty we share in the world that we occupy, we inhabit, so whatever good we do gets done, one day at a time, in this wilderness, aspirational inspiration is as fleeting as a thought never written, but, if you caught the fleeting thing, and wrote in the most flowing effluently efficacious way, beautiful zone shone known knowns and lost it to a literal glitch, an old forgotten buffer flush lost in transfer from chaos, through some kind of standard query language patented Microsoft gadget, for which, now, I must wish a fix, a certain deja vuish recovery that must be in here, some place I must seek to find, or, leave it go, one day, what the hell, the nonsense of that as a question or an expletive at a surprise, a wrinkle a surfeit patience fabrication, too compleatly much idle time, too little aim at being seen at the scene of the last confident lay down, almost all I'll go rythms that we hear, after sufficient trust exposure surprise is never the plan, value for value idle words for idle time. A matched wisdom, seeing the worth of the effort to be doing over, ever put right where the surfeit nothing was… put in place holding peace pose So, now, then sad, sorta, not bad, or mad. At peace, permanence advantage, eternally true when you know you knew backups exist, or believed you knew… tov ra, towb ra' gnosis, da'ath chabad advantage wisdom, is the kingdom of truth, which, it is writ, the God Jesus worships, the spirit of truth, in truth must be taken at true value Faire and far dhe put here. Say that tree holds witness, with our wits about us we do more thinking than other doing so… Thinking, that other day… deemed written off, but loved, didn't we survive yesterday, ain't this so, so we might make peace, enough to fill the Boötes Void. Using poems read once imagined twice.
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