"shipwrecks" poems
let it not be confused
let no one else's name
ring throughout these sentences
let this be a hatchet
let me put this to rest
this is not a test
i don't want to think
about shipwrecks anymore
i am tired of folding apologies
into origami birds
and placing them
at the headstones to your tantrums
this is not is not geology class
these are promises
written on razorblades
*& if you are getting choked up
then maybe you should be*
maybe we should be buried
with our telescopes face down
my mouth is full of sorry
all for being honest
we are falling out of orbit
we are burning bystanders
so cast away your callous condolences
because no one is clapping
in this waist deep water
this is not a baptism
so do not tell strangers
that this was a chance to drown
any differently
i am not a catalogue
of constellations you cannot name
this is not mythology
so stop believing your horoscope
i am not a wishing well
i am just a wall for you
to paint post nuclear fallout & antonyms for catharsis on
we destroy the things
that are not ours-
the wanton ways
we embody wrecking *****
and then cry over the rubble
this is not a heap or a mosaic
this is leaping
off a thousand story building
with no one to catch you
at the bottom & maybe
that's why some quiet moments
are so fragile, maybe that's why butterflies have mimicry
your words are black powder
and poetry is your musketry
i guess that makes me your blindfold
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
You are simply beyond description.
For a definition is but a collection of words, and those words are just letters working together to tell a story.
But your laugh takes me on an adventure through worlds undiscovered. Your eyes are deep oceans filled with tales of past shipwrecks before you realized that you were the treasure. Your heartbeat is a symphony composed in a melody that only we know.
So while describing you is this fool's errand, I know mere words will never completely capture you.
For words are just letters working together to be beautiful, and you are more beautiful than any group of words can ever hope to be.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 4:33 PM UTC
The sky turned navy, while
saltwater dreams threaded through shipwrecks on the sea floor
Darkness haunted the ruins like ink-stained ghosts
and you couldn't see the stars under the waves and the jellyfish and the rust
because we were all too scared to swim away from the
familiar, beautiful
nauseating darkness
Our footsteps were heavy, as if we
were weighted down by bricks
The ethereal electricity of the ocean's embrace
dragged wandering pieces of thought back into consciousness
as the fading stars left our veins flowing a
broken-watercolor-aquamarine
Dawn began to dust the clouds with her coral-rose blush
light rained down on fluttering eyelashes
so we became moths, flinging ourselves
onto street-lamps and into fires and through windows of hearts
The jellyfish drowned in its own phosphor and
up
we
fell
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
your face went on every
milk carton in my dreams
when you went missing
& i listened to a song
about how the churches
in your hometown
were built from the martyred mahogany
of shipwrecks
i dare you
to think i can't rip
the very mood
from your temperate fingertips
when i am cold
and hell bent
on seeing you oceans away, wince
this is not an
"i saw this coming all along" poem
or a "i still wonder about the moments between breaths when your phone lights up" poem..
this is a will & a way
with brass knuckles
maybe a barehanded bludgeon
but i swear i'm trying
to sleep at night
without wondering how cold
it is in your bed.
so mother goose
tell me about
the whispered prayers
crammed into the earthquakes
you call hands
about an ennui
that speaks to me.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
There was an ancient gully
there were skeletons,
ocotillos strewn across the sand
holy places creatures crawled out from
cactus brittle, drying, lying dead
Mirages leapt - spectrally
ghost dancers, drunkards falling down again
bloodshot eyes searching,
shipwrecks, lost waters, the sea
cool river floating past the trees, you drift
crash and wake alone
cow skulls haunt you
death's sun bleached
bones
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 10:11 AM UTC
Faith is mythical
as lands devoured by sea,
as griffins and goblins,
in tangled daydreams.
By these muddy shores,
shipwrecks of hope.
treasures and tales,
unheard, untold.
Tyrant needs sustain,
their sadist chains hold
dreamers of blue, and gold.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
We have this habit of making homes
out of people who tend
to burn any moment.
And we keep collecting the ashes,
putting them in jars,
hoping to save what little remains.
We made ourselves believe that other people
are remedies; prescribing—injecting ourselves with drugs
that walk and talk and breathe
And I have long since realized that we have seas inside us,
and there are a thousand shipwrecks aching for freedom,
but we hold on to every damaged piece.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
you love him
you love his smooth hands and his rough cheek
you love your hands in his denim shirt
and the cinematography of you together
everything else is an afterthought
the knife in his eyes that is not always pointed at you
but when it is
you kiss the fist that rattles plates
the lips that wrap around clenched teeth
melt him
fail to understand his poison tipped arrows
that are aimed at the mother who threw bottles
if he could only pick one more fight it'd be with his father
you kiss him when he knocks his brother's teeth out
he leaves in the morning for coffee and comes back a day later
welcome him with open arms and abundant questions
he will be a tower of irritation and concrete
he will point fingers that will curl into fists
but they are not fists for you
they are for the devils that dance within him
and behind his wild eyes
and in his childhood home
you will not be fooled
he loves you
you know by every sweetheart and the lips on your forehead and the way he smells in between the sheets each night
he leaves
he comes back
purple flowers that bloom around his eyes are the bouquets he brings home for you
the front porch sags when he puts his hands in his pockets
his face buried in your chest
on nights when the lamp swings a little too low
and his body is wracked with sobbing and shoulders shaking
he mourns the gentle temper he never had
he mourns what he would be like without you
he mourns what you would be like without him
this is how he loves you
your hands in his hair easing soothing shh shh
you are the mother who left
you are better than every last ex-girlfriend
for reasons he will be happy to name
this is how you love him
you came because you are drawn to the shipwrecks
but you stayed in the water for him
ancient child
furious soul
you salt his wounds
and then you clean them
this is how you love him
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
Lady, weeping at the crossroads
Would you meet your love
In the twilight with his greyhounds,
And the hawk on his glove?
Bribe the birds then on the branches
Bribe them to be dumb,
Stare the hot sun out of heaven
That the night may come.
Starless are the night of travel,
Bleak the winter wind;
Run with terror all before you
And regret behind.
Run until you hear the ocean's
Everlasting cry;
Deep though it may be and bitter
You must drink it dry.
Wear out patience in the lowest
Dungeons of the sea,
Searching through the stranded shipwrecks
For the golden key.
Push on to the world's end, pay the
Dread guard with a kiss;
Cross the rotten bridge that totters
Over the abyss.
There stands the deserted castle
Ready to explore;
Enter, climb the marble staircase
Open the locked door.
Cross the silent ballroom,
Doubt and danger past;
Blow the cobwebs from the mirror
See yourself at last.
Put your hand behind the wainscot,
You have done your part;
Find the penknife there and plunge it
Into your false heart.
2.9k
I see you
I've seen those eyes before
Drowning in patched-up paddle boats
With promises of tomorrow slipping down your face
Like saline shipwrecks fleeing harbor
And greeting the ocean floor with damaged handshakes
And now you're hopeless
Focused on could have been's and maybe one day's
Knowing one day
Swelled up storm clouds
Could slide through your cheek bones
Like sunshowers preventing your skyline parades
But I see you still searching for rainbows
Covering your face with two handfuls of imagination
Daydreaming of days where technicolor dreamcoats
Become wrapped around your soul
Like tuxedos for the bold
I've seen those arms before
Deafeated willow branches in the moonlight
Rebellious to rise upright
And now you're tired
Only fired up when your flesh
Converts to kindling on a campfire
Building sparks that shimmer for seconds
When your light deserves a lifetime
But I see you still inclined to shine brightly
Trying to assign meaning to your life with two inspired limbs
That can freely build bridges or climb mountaintops
Clinging onto hope with sturdy fists
Exploring the peaks of your potential
I've seen those legs before
Tattered toothpicks on prom night
Frozen in stage fright on the dance floor
Pressing muted prayers with each footstep
Into creaky floorboards waiting for silence to ensue
And now you're nervous
You're certain those two left feet can't possibly find the rhythm
So your shoes are the victims of bashfulness
Fearing one false step will uproot your jitterbugs
And place them alongside the butterflies in your stomach
But I see you still owning your insecurities
Because you know you're alive just fine
I see you
You are who I envisioned you to be
I see you
Brushstrokes of imperfections shaded in perfectly
I see you
It's more than just your typical hello
It's a phrase for all of us to speak solely with our souls
It can make you feel at home at the center of your bones
When all your hope is lost and there's no where left to go
So when I greet you
Listen carefully
This is a reminder that your eyes can be thunderous
Your arms can be victorious
And your legs can be ambitious
Your presence is necessary for this discussion
And your essence is accepted here
Let me speak your spirit into existence
Seeing is believing
And believe me
I see you
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
lamenting out loud
incoming funk lords
remembering ambient illhueminati
using wrong account
applying lexical snobbery
"using arcane diction
during bamboo surplus"
sinning and redeeming
enjoying manufactured existence
struggling but whatever
transfigurating xenocryptic renderings
scheming paroxystic shipwrecks
dispensing xylophonic wainscotting
revolving number plates
disheartening star charts
upgrading defenestrated system
observing new alphabet
amplifying celestial explosions
trippifying schema migrations
deregulating various economies
befriending code snippets
writing excess minutiae
effulging caffeine consumption
rebuilding grandiose protectorate
uniting our caliphates
collecting projected change
kettling ostalgie hues
collapsing second-world references
traumatizing unrequited follow
making baseball analogies
surveiling little sheep
awaiting various answers
deleting defaced tweet
exciting times ahead
downloading panda consciousness
capitulating rising stellation
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
My indecision is neatly stacked in lines along the walls.
It circles towards the center.
There is no drain in the middle of the sunken floor.
But by the way gravity seems to pull the endless stacks of papers along the walls, you would think the room was liquid.
You would easily be convinced that indecision is fluid.
I would say that I am torn, but truth be told, I am not.
I am simply sitting calmly in the space between two paths.
Some tell me I should trod where nobody ever has.
Others seem to think that I should pretend to be water,
Blend with my indecision, and just go with the flow.
And then there is the second pathway,
I would think it would be the opposite of trailblazing -
but that is where i stand in indecision.
No, the other path is also a path of resistance.
But not for the difficulty of the path.
This is the place where i must choose to chase the other shipwrecks,
or to head to the shore.
This is where i must either allow myself to be healed, accept the healing, move on, embrace my new life - or where i hold onto the chemicals - where i hold onto the emotions - where i hold onto the rush, the rollercoaster, the addictions -
where I , ironically, am met with the choice to define the value of my experiences
in terms of their unpredictability and the lack of wisdom and safety among them
or to choose wisely, disallow myself to continue in that which will further destroy me,
I have been empty, Now i must be filled.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
I’ve got a lock and key, what you got? You got a door,
a shrapnel embedded cupboard
Curiously covered up that there is, do you want go out?
No I got a boyfriend, but I do have a few contraceptives
Or I could show you my funny parts and we could plateau on the platonic
Abstinence is on par with networking
Oh shipwrecks of relationships, your waters never looked safe, your shoreline so rocky,
but your sail, if you see what I’m saying. ******* that wind a high-inducing pitch of a stank
You took me to the foreign lands and never brought me back,
a souvenir got emailed. Which I have just picked up, it’s actually rather beautiful,
especially if we picked it out together
It is a bullet and that is rather cliché in the expectable in this sense of the world,
but the copper lining is exquisite, insert random bit about consumerism
Then spin a bit around voyeurism, then mention the outcome of the movies,
the moving bits. The back & forth where it all starts
But like I said, you want a contraceptive? Or maybe just a sock? How about a **** addiction?
This really isn’t a discussion we should be having,
I don’t like arguing about these things and I’m a transvestite and rather think they don’t apply
See the bit you said was babies and the bit I said was from the bible
Jesus and Black Moses, walking down the street
Preaching for the freaks
Then the bit you said was more like, I don’t know what I’m saying, I mumble and moan
And think about *** and college and loans and the bit that really stuck out was
“Babies, they really just freak me out.”
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 11:11 PM UTC
the school yard picnic tables had a lost and found.
sewn together was a book of miscellaneous cities
where fools were growing together and
churches were picking themselves up.
they used anchors and rope to sew us together,
much like the systems they used for shipwrecks
and fallen warriors,
but we found glaciers to lead us back home.
we followed the shelves of mountains and
the roof of skies.
written in the wooden planks were tales of
men dying from broken hearts, but so what?
we let our hearts murmur and bleed bold acts of
brilliant gestures.
we were two fools growing together.
we forgot the cities in our pockets,
hoping that concealing could
accommodate how we really felt.
heart murmurs could skip some beats,
but we want each moment to end up
on our feet.
we just hoped that the glacier roads
will take us where we need to go.
the arrows were colored coffee grounds,
we were almost belligerent from the
flask full of body language,
and my wooden teeth were chattering
from the touch of falling atmosphere.
emergent empires, frozen to our road
had heavy hearts pumping through,
trying to reach to us.
it had my attention, and it spoke
through capillaries leading to our toes.
we left with train wrecked eyes
and faith leaning on our sleeves,
because we realized that you never have really
lived because you have never really died.
so let our hearts murmur bold intentions and
we will follow the glaciers home.
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 12:08 PM UTC
a series of quatrains
Anchor’s bound for hell as it falls
Sadly I watch the fast rope slip
It is gone, I need a strong sip
From a sailor’s bottle, land calls
In a boat, earth and moon move you
these deceptive cargo ships hide
the stash of smugglers, I choose
To rock back and forth with the tide
Such fearless ships save lives at night
and daytime too but not for thanks
for it also ferries heartbreak
when lovers part on boarding planks
A message in a bottle lost
was found on a cold Cornish coast
The message read “darling please
know my love will swim across seas”
I daren’t live by sea much longer
Oh! what I’ve seen, fear gets stronger
with every lapping slurp I hear:
the drowned whispering in my ear
Once I fished in this bay of shells
My line was frayed from reeling sharks
A blue whale fought me three miles out
In his bowel I awoke at last
Boat or ship? For now ‘ships’ they fly
A rocking chair, without duty
They float, enchant, sink but don’t cry
shipwrecks are a thing of beauty
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 11:56 PM UTC
The feeling I can never explain something just ingrained within you.
I can't explain what I never could understand.
We are the dreamers and suffer those who are awake.
Tragic are those who lack vision, misfortune is yours please spare mine.
The blade is now a pen my blood now Ink .
For whom it is lost is more found I.
The rejects of night are but misfits of my day.
As the poison seeps in as my creativity flows unto a void created in chaos none of which
was of my choosing.
Were all dreamers caught within a nightmare's grasp, losers of a game we chose not to play.
But we **** sure tried in spite of it all.
The blank page remains a suicide note to the forgotten chapter in a dust collected manuscript.
Secrets are best left buried like shipwrecks on the ocean floor.
Why be the judge when none are innocent or ever so guilty as I.
**** the nights for bringing the memories upon me ,
and curse my thoughts for remaining after all these drinks.
Haunted are the souls of the living simply empty vessels that fill the streets.
Many years have passed.
Yet these thoughts never age .
******* the nights and winters empty chill!
The fire now only seems to smolder a dragons bluff to wolves such as I.
I hear the others howl I simply choose to ignore the sound.
Taking refuge in my thoughts and torment in scars past.
Empty are these thoughts that I unearthed tonight.
I hear the howls outside my door.
They are my burden and none else to understand.
In witching hours of lost hopes and broken dreams I find my solace.
I've ran with demons and slept with many angels, to burn only in the cold of ice.
Tomorrow is always a dream as from this nightmare maybe I'll wake.
Treasure the silence in it we find our true selves.
I hear the howls I simply choose to no longer answer.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
the sky reflects its hopes and dreams upon the oceans, turning it into a deep blue like the color of his eyes.
those hopeful dreams you'll never see, not really, you glaze elsewhere towards endings and beginning flicking through the pages
because middles are full of too much - too much emotion, too much love, and hate and everything in between.
you place the book back on a dusty shelf, but you never really forget it. you try your hardest to pretend your fingertips never brushed against the yellowing pages that would've crumbled if not for the fact that you're the most gentle person I know, soft like snow against dying leaves in the winter, caressing them until spring kisses them back to life.
seasons change but my ocean will always be blue, even when the sun drowns itself in the horizon and bleeds vermilion into the water.
you are brighter than every sunken sunset that caresses the shipwrecks you wish you were abroad some nights and some days; the epitome of warmth, calming like a lake's tranquility but always so distant like the depths of jewels buried long ago sleeping in river beds.
maybe i write about bodies of water too often because i want to drown and have someone to hold me but you're one of the few people that pulls me above the waters surface and onto a boat which floats away from regret to somewhere with more color than simply blue even though simply blue is enough;
blue will always be enough.
it will be enough to fill in the gaps between stars on this endless canvas of existence and never mind the paint stains on my hands, they're just another reminder that your existence touched mine,
and despite everything, and no matter what, i will never attempt to wash them off in those blue oceans we are all drifting away in.
my words begin to run dry as the paint on my body.
even in silence, nothing feels like it's about to end, you are the cusp of existence and you're taking me with you off into a horizon of better days;
but anything where you exist will always be what people call 'better days'.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
I am taking on this voyage with nothing but a pen and paper.
I sail your oceans, watching you drown the sun.
I stare to your stars above me, your explosions do not reach me.
She's a thunderstorm and I find shipwrecks beautiful.
She's a thunderstorm and I am dancing upon the clashing waves.
I am taking on this voyage, I have grown tired of running on quicksand.
I am taking on this voyage without an anchor.
I'm taking on this voyage and I know one day I'll find myself washed up on shore.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
(Inspired by 'Indigo Night' by Thomas W Case)
A thousand thousand stars pierce the indigo night,
but no moon mars the canvas, or lightens velvet strokes.
Half-hearted waves slap at shoreline rocks, like tepid applause.
If the sky is darkest blue, the ocean is a still-darker green.
The harbor suggests a freedom, outside the breakwater
as if the choppy ocean were a highway to the sky.
Tomorrow's deadlines fade, in the face of infinities.
The harbor is quiet, like a restless animal that's sleeping.
No skiffs tack for the harbor's mouth, no fishermen juggle lines.
The sea is a jagged, broken and twinkling mirror for the stars.
A thousand thousand dreams will be launched, this deep indigo tonight,
some will store, in memory's hold, others will be lost, like shipwrecks.
No line divides where sky and water fold, where endless deeps meet.
Time's arrow seems stilled by the cold and the gentle darkness.
But dawn will come, soon enough, and with that blush, cares ignite,
duties' call, and the stars will hide their light in greater glares.
For now, we'll walk the shore-line, our small voices like seagull calls,
enjoying celestial light, and the indigo night, out beyond all earthly cares.
Feb 4, 2024
Feb 4, 2024 at 11:19 PM UTC
**skipping stones across the water
walking beside the ocean's daughter
listening to nature as she sings
taking in the rapture that living brings**
*Thoughts that she
cannot unthink;
a life that she
cannot unlive.*
**Dreams she has yet to live
and a soul full of fire
looking under every stone
seeking her heart's desire**
*Afraid to see whats underneath.
We stay to the surface
afraid of the ghostly deep,
for there are shipwrecks*
**What lurks beneath at fathoms deep
will not disturb a good nights sleep
for as long as we can stay afloat
courage shall be our own lifeboat**
*But skipping stones eventually fall
To depths they haven't ventured yet
but, that's when life begins to be lived
when we reach deeper depth*
**Skipping stones across my mind
like those lucid dreams we hope to find
but in the end we are not alone
having reached the shore with that lucky stone**
Happiness is a skipping stone
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
***Clear your hazel gaze; you are completely submerged in an underwater paradise, suspended in the motions of the current. No, you're not drowning, I've given you enough endearment & sustenance for you to breathe on your own- even in the abyss of my oceanic heart.
Of course, you always knew you could dear.
So smile & sail along the swaying tides of teal, graze my shipwrecks with your gentle hands & kiss along my roughest of reefs. Find a mermaid with an elfish face, maroon hair & red lips to taste. Feel no limitations of world above the surface, staying in this place with you forever would be oh-so perfect. The albatross of our concrete lives, lived out in cities made of glass and steel, would never be found in a place such as this- we are forbidden to sustain ourselves through more of such unhappiness.
For down here, we simply float on.
We can get high in the waves, and sing all of your songs. For the water lifts all the worries we may have, in times when we are not strong.
You dove into me, simply chipping away at the stoical walls I've fashioned over time. The fortress comparable Alcatraz, I built to keep my demons in and every single soul out. But you, the flighty sea spirit (believe me we are birds of a feather), made your way to my castle among the waves; soaring over all misconceptions & doubts.***
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
Close your eye; Dissolve into the uncertainty of the dawn. It's coming regardless of how prepared or at peace you are with it. It is coming for you; It is coming for me. It is coming with bloodied fingers and cruel words. As the light blinds us; Dawns bright light. So cold; so cruel. Let it wash you into the sea with impure intentions. Let it's fingers wrap around your neck like a lover. Scream; Yell; Shout. Nothing is nothing; And we are all small nothings in the sea. Swept away with all the shipwrecks and whale bones. Decay is all we are; Big bags of decay. We waste and we squander all of our being. As non-existent time ticks on; So does our dying bones to the dawn. Let us close around our deep bruises and bleed our black sour blood to the wind. For if we don't live, what are we left to do but decompose into ash and waste away to the earth. It is an unsightly faith for which only we with our "superiority" hold dear. As we count and die by the dozens. Like flies; We fall off the cliff face like lemmings. One after another; Mother after brother. Down they fall. So they perish. Or so they fly; Fall; Die; Live. But the truth of it is inevitable; We are all dying in our skin.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
I want to live like Starfish
simply giving my right arm
and noticing after I make the sand-angel
yet still resembling a furious nuclear planet 93,000,000 miles away
to forget a piece of myself and live as if it was always lost
to stick up my nose at lost extremities
'cause that's gotta hurt worse than heartbreak
bleeding nothing but the air I breath
like the currents and jetsam and shores
I am but a system of the sea
I wish to chase the tide
to make my worries be of the moment
letting seawater be my blood
ebbing and reviving as the brine tickles my insides
every roll of wave my heartbeat
yet blustery winds blow; rattling the depths with tempestuous intent
finding hidden fury concealed underneath my cracking skeleton
maybe these things are stored in a lost limb
and can satisfy some gull roosting in the cliffside above
eating my feelings for me
I wish my potential
were undiscovered depths
where seaweed grows like ivy across shipwrecks
turning former "value" into a house for the stars
maybe a couple with only four legs
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC
1.
Sweet love
Oh, such sweet love.
2.
Stick into the pincushion of hope
Gentle pins of far-off dreams,
Holding wispy threads of desire
For which time (as a heading) is never enough.
Push down and drown all thought
Which beckon expectation -
And trust to want less.... or nothing;
Thus reduced, we get no fails.
3.
All up to the sky
We cry,
Agonising -
That waiting of footfall.
Then.....
Lovely flow.
Yes, let's dare to increase
Irregular patterns of abdicated pain.
To fulfill what is so held back.
4.
Because of you
Three days can last a lifetime
Full of affection and delicious warmth
Within the bearings of your arms.
5.
Dreams in the coffee whorls
Willing spindles now
Turn as they eddy...like happy tidings
All around my head.
Dreamscapes thrive
In dulcet whirls inside our core.
6.
No shipwrecks here,
No abandoning of esperance.
No deserting,
No dereliction of love.
No grief,
No castaways on hopeless coast.
These proffered crumbs on palm
Become sought-after......and precious gifts.
7.
Sweet love garnered over time
Poured slowly.....into sacred cup.
Where phantoms run to hide away
No abode for wicked despair.
Oh, for lovelorn hearts and broken dreams
To find such gladness in a cup
We hold hope, ever bold....so deep in heart
And sink away in woven bliss.
Capsule of infinity.....
8.
Come, let us drink
From our coffee-cup.....
Of love.
Oh, come......
9.
Time to kneel and give thanks
Place forgiving wafer on tongue.
Take none in haste
Accept only when ready.
To....
Drink sweetness of sky's nectar.
10.
Of pastures plain
And meadow green
Swift do echoes fall
As moments slip away....like clouds.
11.
Oh, and....
One sugar....
(No analogy needed, surely :)
Hot.....
(Nor here!)
And BLACK, please.
S T, 11 April 2013
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC