"thudding" poems
It was not a heart, beating.
That muted boom, that clangor
Far off, not blood in the ears
Drumming up and fever
To impose on the evening.
The noise came from outside:
A metal detonating
Native, evidently, to
These stilled suburbs nobody
Startled at it, though the sound
Shook the ground with its pounding.
It took a root at my coming
Till the thudding shource, exposed,
Counfounded in wept guesswork:
Framed in windows of Main Street's
Silver factory, immense
Hammers hoisted, wheels turning,
Stalled, let fall their vertical
Tonnage of metal and wood;
Stunned in marrow. Men in white
Undershirts circled, tending
Without stop those greased machines,
Tending, without stop, the blunt
Indefatigable fact.
8k
Pitter patter,
Is that the sound of the drops of rain streaming outside down my windowpane or is it in the pain I am feeling while the tears cascade down on my swollen cheeks?
I try to speak but no words come out,
The rain stops.
Pitter patter, the sound of my tears and the thudding of my heavy heart are now one.
I try to speak but no words come out.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
somebody knew Lincoln somebody Xerxes
this man:a narrow thudding timeshaped face
plus innocuous winking hands, carefully
inhabits number 1 on something street
Spring comes
the lean and definite houses
are troubled. A sharp blue day
fills with peacefully leaping air
the minute mind of the world.
The lean and
definite houses are
troubled.in the sunset their chimneys converse
angrily,their
roofs are nervous with the soft furious
light,and while fire-escapes and
roofs and chimneys and while roofs and fire-escapes and
chimeys and while chimneys and fire-escapes
and roofs are talking rapidly all together there happens
Something,and They
cease(and
one by one are turned suddenly and softly
into irresponsible toys.)
when this man with
the brittle legs winces
swiftly out of number 1 someThing
street and trickles carefully into the park
sits
Down. pigeons circle
around and around and around the
irresponsible toys
circle wildly in the slow-ly-in creasing fragility
—. Dogs
bark
children
play
-ing
Are
in the beautiful nonsense of twilight
and somebody Napoleon
6.4k
A million bitten off breaths
Hang quietly.
I’m close enough to hear
her thudding -
A jarring noise that parts
a cloud of frothy swans.
We’ve all seen photographs
in Wildlife Books –
I’m sure you can conjure up
the moment a water bird
lances a sunlit river
with the very tip of its beak
to gobble a fish.
It’s a difficult photo to take,
It’s all over so quickly -
The fish caught,
The river moving, moving,
Still.
But here she is in front of me,
That bird,
Suspended with one
Foot in this world,
And the other
In another.
Her toes grind up the
Spotlight,
Trampling into
the moon and balancing there,
(I'm surprised the stage
is not full of chalk.)
It's not beautiful,
Not ghostly,
But all visceral meat glistening,
Fitness, strength, survival,
Like nature…
No need to take a photo,
She is a picture that my mind has
Tricked me into taking.
So perhaps that’s talent, darling..?
Or
Perhaps it’s something else, with a name I never knew.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
My words don’t have arms big enough to hold these great and growing feelings.
They stay in my insides
Crowding out
Grinding down the subtleties
That reside near the edges in the used to be,
that cushiony soft berm.
It was comfortable in here once
The Room for Interpretation,
now lost,
now over-full,
balloon-bright and tumbling one voice and many into and out of supremacy.
These great and growing feelings
and my insufficient words
that fall from me one-by-one into place,
the thudding truth in basic blue.
Sep 26, 2021
Sep 26, 2021 at 9:38 PM UTC
and I would give everything I have to see your eyes light up like streetlamps and you know that time in summer where the steady glow from daylight merges into night time and the breeze dances along the leaves of trees too tall like ballerinas; so gentle if you blink you’ll miss the sway of them? that’s what you remind me of.
you are a glow, an indian sunset and I long to be the sea your sun shine kisses and when your glow transcends into moonlight I long to be the stars who are accompanied by your effervescent light night after night and you know to me you will always be a god **** sunset when you should be rainfall: you pour down on everything I love and leave puddles; you cause unapologetic floods in the crevices of my collarbones and attach your saltwater to the follicles of my hair and you warp the words on the pages of love letters I never sent and when you fall down my cheeks my teardrops and your raindrops will merge and for a moment we will become one and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. to be one with you. to be a god **** indian sunset in your illuminous eyes.
I keep running through the hallways of my mind and your voice is bouncing off the walls and echoing straight through my chest and there’s a thudding that gets louder and louder, like bongo drums, every time and I’m pretty sure my heart is now a gallery of us, open for public consumption and they can walk along the hallways and appreciate the beauty of our profound love like you never could.
one day you will find someone who melts your heart into your veins until it feels like the oxygen around your body is trapped and screaming for you to try to breathe, try to breathe harder and you’ll scream for them and they’ll stop returning your calls and there’ll be no texts and everything you once had will sink – almost in slow motion, almost as intangible as the idea that I loved you harder than anyone ever could – a ship where you’re the only person aboard and you’ll be watching an indian sunset like you watched their fingertips trace the curvature of your hips for the last time and you’ll realise in that moment that they were your indian sunset and man, don’t you just wish for some rainfall?
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
it started as a polite knock
tap tap tap
always three times
my heart asked timidly to leave my body
tap tap tapped
on my ribs
always in three
my heart has ocd you see
soon my heart progressed
thud thud thud
always three times
my heart started raising its voice
thud thud thudding
on my ribs
always in three
my heart has ocd you see
then my heart was angry
wham wham wham
my heart pounded in my chest
wham wham whamming
on my ribs
always in three
my heart has ocd you see
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
I am here, risen up
from dust
and I sit in the sand
beneath the mangroves
as fruits fall around me
thudding softly in the
strewn leaves.
We sit here,
where I am,
these fruits
and these insects
and small reptiles,
watching the clouds roll in from the east,
where the ocean sprawls,
lavishing the beach with delicate hands
under the phosphorescent moon.
We all sit here,
the fruits,
insects,
reptiles,
the ocean,
and I-
We watch dense clouds roll in
as distant flashes of light
and gongs of thunder
grow more frequent-
we sit-
we watch-
and we wait-
for the rain.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
Who decides life is not worth it?
You?
God?
When you reach this point, questioning living, breathing, you play god.
You feel your mind make,
take,
break
and create
new processes never felt before; a process of passion,
confusion, contradiction and confession.
You strive just by the thought of not surviving.
The
downfall
of a
suicidal
mind.
Painfully and buried deep down the impulses slip out.
Screams for hopes, answers, connections, positive aspirations.
Constantly wondering is this it?
Is this the end?
That your life can never peek again,
so the result of your collapse is an
eternal slumber with the devil by your side.
Whispering in your ear telling you about the ache
and sorrow your sinking heart and conscience feel.
An eternal hell. An eternal anguish, torment, suffering.
Do you stay in the hell on earth or hell in the after life?
You examine all the details
over and over
only thinking of your lonely pitiful life.
Meaningless and outrageous.
Screams moving around trying to get out but only
bouncing back inside of you to find
the little nothingness in which they are in seek of.
Literally, are taking you in and cutting you into
the smallest treads as possible over and over.
Never letting up to give the one underneath a second break.
Pounding as hard as possible.
Thudding and pulling, twisting and hurting.
Neither end nor good.
You can feel the over whelming sense of your corruption
taking you headfirst and choking your every last breath off.
Cutting it away like a river being eroded by things we cannot control.
Your life you cannot control.
People you cannot control.
You see the only outlet in your mind
but it burdens you with insanity behind it.
Taking life; your own life.
The reasons are bliss.
Sweet tender resolutions freeze
over your tempered thoughts,
fragile thoughts of a
suicidal.
Unaware of the footprint left behind.
Your stomach churns,
stirs
and confusion
sets in once again.
You feel ***** rising in your
throat about to implode
but it’s just an illusion created
in your mind;
hallucinations.
Questions are still increasing
their intensity and passion.
With every moment of aloneness and isolation,
the time ticks away from you until you feel as though
you will fly into a rage.
You take a deep breath;
intense thoughts.
Questioning right verses wrong;
life verses death;
now or never.
Take a step back
and pull the trigger;
welcome to the end.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
his rumbling voice resonates deep
within my
psyche
my chest rattling with
glee
my
heart thudding
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
Mistress Misery,
You remind me of many things
Of things such as an aching, thudding heart
Of lost marriage rings
Of rainfall
During a bleak, cloudy day
Pattering a tune of blues
With a black cat lurking, a homeless stray
Of slow-played violins
Strumming across many a sad note
Of pointless lives, causing crushing depression
To which many a person does devote
Of abandoned houses, of creaking floorboards
Of dust, cobwebs and failing light
Of storm thundering whilst the moon is up
A desolate, cold, wet and empty street in the midst of night.
Mistress Misery,
You remind me of darker times in life
It's just in your nature
To show the dark, to show the afterlife
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
Human beings are we all,
Each of us sharing views, that differ and are similar, and
Hang suspended in the air
By pieces of thread called emotions.
We all hold to our minds
Thoughts of hate and sorrow,
Revenge and jealousy.
The mind is the chamber of negative secrets.
We all hold to our hearts
Feelings of love and joy,
Happiness and bliss.
The heart is the bed chamber of positive secrets.
The beating rhythmic heart in the center of our chest
Is the one thing that forever remains pure.
The thudding mass of brain that is our mind
Is what is susceptible to pollution.
If every human being follows their heart
And not what their mind thinks is correct,
No one in this world will be lost.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Me
I quickly tap my screen to respond to your message
"I'm absolute garbage and I love you."
You
Your fingers softly brush against the keys as you type out your reply,
"You're absolutely beautiful garbage and I love you more."
Me
I thought that things would be different with you; you were so much more compassionate
"I think I'm in love with you."
You
You hesitate as you read my message, unaware of the stars that were forming in my mind at the mere thought of you
"I'm not in love with you."
Me
I read the message with my brimming eyes and soon enough, I hear the explosions in my ear of the galaxies that once formed when you told me I was an unexplainable force of nature that everyone was wary of.
I also hear the slow thudding of my heart in my ears before everything fades away and becomes numb.
You
You sit there, quiet and in deep thought
You heard the planets imploding all the way from your bedroom
But all you did was shrug, shake your head and turn up your music.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
imagine a calloused doubt.
cracked, chipped, clicking
like warped wooden floorboards.
soft from overuse
but still overrides willpower
in one palpitating breath.
grimy yet illusive
like your teeth after a day’s work,
collecting gunk that sidles up
to calcium companions,
crunching down on things
that become
so bland in the end.
doubt is offbeat,
monstrous footsteps hidden deep
off beaten paths,
its thudding is clammy and hurried,
aligned to the discordant jazz of
your alarmed body.
it tastes like
coppery heartbeats,
rising bile,
salt and mucus in the back of your throat.
it is a truly uncomfortable thing.
it stacks sweetly like buttercream pancakes
but crumbles you
with such a sour taste on your tongue.
imagine an agony that loves you.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
Rain clouds stain the Sky
with dark lies
Vagrant Wind trumpets them
to the world aloud
Lightning ruptures her
with needle like claws
Thunder stamps her
under its thudding feet
And the molested Sky sheds tears,
inconsolable!
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
the train whistles lull me to a dusty sleep
an ancient sleep
primitive and timeless as the sage
it tastes like rain
and reads like a folk song
and when the engine songs are gone
the interstate strikes up it's serenade
flooding my heart valves with gasoline
and valvoline
and the smile of what i can only hope to imagine are young lovers
with a fiesty case of wanderlust
and a puppy in the back seat
with a wagging tail
"happy trails" i whisper
and the stars flicker
and i smile
the walls let their secrets slide while they sleep
all those restless memories they keep for themselves
floating around
and settling in the parlor dust
they trust me just enough
to let me cradle them in my chest
woven between my rebar ribs
and my flat-tire heart
thud thud thudding as it speeds off into the distance
the dogs rustle the sheets as they rise
just long enough to sigh
dance a sleepy circle and a half
and put themselves back to bed
i finally crawl out from inside my noisy head
as the boy nestles up to my neck
and traces my clavical with his humid breath
and ropes me in closer to his chest
with his big bear arms
his heart sings like a fire alarm
stirring the brave to save me from the shadows
and chase the ghosts from my gallows
and he even lets out puppy snores in his sleep
the tune that finally pirouettes me towards my dreams
where the birds sing like drunken sailors in the mango groves
and the rows and rows of lime trees
my heart and mind innertwined to paint me a scene i've never even seen
not with my own eyes
it's so nice to think it's within me
and not without me
yes
for every sound, a source
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
LAST night a January wind was ripping at the shingles
over our house and whistling a wolf song under the
eaves.
I sat in a leather rocker and read to a six-year-old girl
the Browning poem, Childe Roland to the Dark
Tower Came.
And her eyes had the haze of autumn hills and it was
beautiful to her and she could not understand.
A man is crossing. a big prairie, says the poem, and
nothing happens--and he goes on and on--and it's
all lonesome and empty and nobody home.
And he goes on and on--and nothing happens--and he
comes on a horse's skull, dry bones of a dead horse--
and you know more than ever it's all lonesome and
empty and nobody home.
And the man raises a horn to his lips and blows--he
fixes a proud neck and forehead toward the empty
sky and the empty land--and blows one last wonder-
cry.
And as the shuttling automatic memory of man clicks
off its results willy-nilly and inevitable as the snick
of a mouse-trap or the trajectory of a 42-centimetre
projectile,
I flash to the form of a man to his hips in snow drifts
of Manitoba and Minnesota--in the sled derby run
from Winnipeg to Minneapolis.
He is beaten in the race the first day out of Winnipeg--
the lead dog is eaten by four team mates--and the
man goes on and on--running while the other racers
ride, running while the other racers sleep--
Lost in a blizzard twenty-four hours, repeating a circle
of travel hour after hour--fighting the dogs who
dig holes in the snow and whimper for sleep--
pushing on--running and walking five hundred
miles to the end of the race--almost a winner--one
toe frozen, feet blistered and frost-bitten.
And I know why a thousand young men of the North-
west meet him in the finishing miles and yell cheers
--I know why judges of the race call him a winner
and give him a special prize even though he is a
loser.
I know he kept under his shirt and around his thudding
heart amid the blizzards of five hundred miles that
one last wonder-cry of Childe Roland--and I told
the six year old girl about it.
And while the January wind was ripping at the shingles
and whistling a wolf song under the eaves, her eyes
had the haze of autumn hills and it was beautiful
to her and she could not understand.
2.3k
Since we met in this life we’ve been so together
The trees and the sky will tell you, just ask them
Since, frankly and completely as one
Searching our souls, discovering each other and ourselves
Loving, living and learning with no effort at all
Moulding our life to divine goals, elements exploring
Each day we grow, smoothing our rituals and tasks
Simple, small, understated and beautiful
Yet enormous, devastating and wonderful
I’ve never been clearer in mind nor more ordered
Serious or intended, structured yet mesmerised and dreamy
Child-like pleasures our little hearts
Honestly, knowing you has given an exclusive season of patience
A crown of peace with measures of muted resonance
My emotion and behaviour jangle with excitement
Gaining speed and velocity as our developing love fertilises everything we do
If any part of me was withheld or absent it was without cognisance or most importantly intent
I was always here totally, loving you with an undivided heart
Building our future and having the truest most delightful life
Such destiny within two earthly beings, such kismet
But no..earth is not from where we sprung
No logic or contract by human standards but from cosmos and celestial forces
Stardust, moonbeams, sunlight and energy
Our future is viridian, cobalt, alizarin, ultramarine, carmine...
Colours drawn from a bow of happiness with arrows of true love
Thudding into our hearts every single moment
Rainbows of kindly sparkly crystals reflecting each tiny emotion
Willow tree flexibility, cool streams of pure clear water whisper in our ears
Look to your soul and to the memories of our short time together
Begin to believe that life is so very good ,so treasured like us
Darling Jan my complete lover
The wife I’ve always had, true soul provider, custodian of my heart
Clearer in the transformation from Jan and Max to a ‘whole’ inseparable
By anyone or anything for all time and eternity..
Even better knowing that as always
Now even more.....I’m all yours
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
we all have habits
they make us who we are
they’re what makes us unique
the twirling of her hair
the nibbling of his nails
the tapping of their foot
you used to do this little thing
you’d touch the tip of your nose
in the peak of your amusement
you would fidget
usually with the hair tie at your wrist
you’d snap it constantly
you ran your fingers
through your hair
nervously working the nerves
sometimes when you were deep in thought
you’d chew on the inside of your cheek
i could always tell by the sour look on your face
and when you got embarrassed
you’d smile and bite your lip
and turn bright red
or how right before a performance
you’d thump a hand over your chest
a harmony to the heavy thudding of your heart
those were the things that made you you
the things you didn’t notice
the things nobody would unless they knew you
the way i knew you
knew
before everything changed
you’re still the same you, though
for the most part
people change, habits don’t
you still touch your nose when you laugh
you still snap your hair tie on your wrist
you still run your fingers through your hair
you still chew the inside of your cheek
you still bite your lip when you’re embarrassed
you still thump on your chest before a show
you’ve changed
but you’re still human
and humans are creatures of habit
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 8:45 PM UTC
in a dark autumn forest, five creatures
strangely glow, cold peaked ears are blue,
rhythms of thudding, scudding boots
full of youth, synchronized they run,
outlined in neon, nearly covered in fur,
running amok in the hungry dark.
what do they search for in the dark?
all keening, these tempestuous creatures.
what propels them? what makes their fur
stand on end? faces an oxygen-less blue
as arms are locked and strong legs run
with the heavy monotony of feet in boots.
driven by laughter and labored breath, boots
thunder up dewy hills, disturbing the dark
loam underfoot, disheveled as the wind runs
through and into and throughout these creatures,
and the trees, and the strange aura of blue
surrounding a juggling man with hair like wolf fur.
he is levitating, has eyes like a burning fur-
nace, is manipulating boxes of light, wears boots
that make him seven feet tall, his is the blue
of martyrs, of imagination sacrificed to dark
forces, alight like clicking live wires the creatures
tumble on, finding a new reason to run
toward a long, narrow, white hallway they run
across an empty street, a nearby raccoon's fur
bristles as they break all boundaries, these creatures,
all sharp claws and fearless teeth and stomping boots,
assault the stillness of closed doors and early dark
morning eyes just beginning to distinguish the blue
of the sun's prologue, a deep and melancholy blue.
charging the hall doors, they dance and thump and run
down the shadowed interior, adjacent rooms dark
but for the lights of the lonely and static cat fur.
on wooden floors the cacophonic burst of boots
rumble like wild animal's hooves, here come the creatures!
and as the sun illumines dark corners in orange and blue,
through untidy mists these creatures continue to run,
all flailing limbs and matted fur and brawling boots.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:15 AM UTC
Chains and shackles
Chains and shackles weigh me down
Ties to strong to break, helpless struggle
Unheard screams, guards surround me
Your around me, and you run blindly
So I sit quietly, with silent thought
Not knowing can be easer, so I remain unheard
I falter under pressure so squeamishly
Why slow you down?
You would try to carry me
Chains and shackles hold me down
My echoed heart beat is the only sound
A thudding heart could be heard
Tare it out from my very breast
It stop the twisted breath in my empty chest
A tortured heart freed from the rest
My body now a cesspool
A wasteland of festered stress
I will **** my hopes and dreams if it means
Honesty, equality, fairness to my loved
Chains and shackles ground me down
I could fly when your around
But I will squash anything
I wont dare let my bleeding heart sing
So let the guards hold me down
I challenge the people to there bliss
Tragic is no way for loves first kiss
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
Shrieking, all-in, nothingheldback laughter
Beats up against my skull,
Thudding, thudding.
Is this happiness observed?
Pools of wrinkles gather underneath
Squinted eyes,
Little silk kimonos crumpled at the foot of a bed.
Laugh lines fold and expand,
As if they are their own organisms,
Breathing in and out with the rhythm of life.
Somewhere else, there is crying,
***** feet and bruises the color of wilted pansies.
Undisturbed, they vibrate to a different frequency,
An isolated rhythm.
A symphony of cornflower and charcoal,
They dance about in a sad song of neglect.
Far away from the loud, booming laughter.
Oh, sunken eyes and sullen brows,
How have you not yet changed the world?
Thunder your despair,
Push up against the merriness and chrisanthimum bliss.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
Seven minutes to midnight
The New Year’s Eve party in full swing
How stunning you look in that red dress
Our friendship of many years is about to fail
Funny how one moment can change everything
My heart pounding, I feel like a mess
Our courtship playing out on a global scale
Six minutes to midnight
My mind is racing, and I begin to perspire
You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen
Why you chose to dance with me, I'll never know
Thoughts of what may come sets my heart on fire
I always secretly hoped you may be keen
And now the world waits for us to put on a show
Five minutes to midnight
Uncertainty begins to cloud my every thought
Perhaps I misread all of the signs
What if the whole thing is only in my head
I remember the times when we bickered and fought
Sometimes I read too much between the lines
All confidence gone, my feet turn to lead
Four minutes to midnight
I watch, mesmerized by your swaying hips
My soul is filled with joy by your laughing eyes
How could I ever doubt the way you feel
We move together and now I become transfixed
Reflections in a mirror, our bodies synchronize
My deepest hopes and dreams finally becoming real
Three minutes to midnight
The pace and tone of the music intensifies
We dance as one, never missing a single beat
Our arms moving together in perfect time
My stomach churns, full of butterflies
I never knew anyone could be so sweet
To think, in a few moments you could be mine
Two minutes to midnight
My ears fill with the sound of my thudding heart
As though a million men were marching nearby
Surely you can hear its deafening roar
We've both waited a long time to play our part
Now the time approaches when our love can fly
I wonder why we never thought to do this before
One minute to midnight
Standing precariously at the edge of the abyss
One wrong step and we both might tumble
But we've come too far now to walk away
As the seconds count down, I begin to reminisce
Recalling the friendship that's about to crumble
The whole world will always remember today
Midnight
In a sea of red, balloons falling from the sky
Our arms finally embrace, as midnight chimes
Your intoxicating perfume fills me with bliss
All men should feel this way before they die
As the band begins to play Auld Lang Syne
I whisper a silent prayer, and we kiss ...
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
Across and abound to the sounds of fire, they lurch and leap toward the river bend. The twilight is thunderous and bold, a fragmented frown upon this calamity of calamities. It's jagged, smooth streaks of light passing judgement from the heavens above. God himself looks on.
Bright Blues to blend with Grim Greys upon such an all encompassing canvas of green. I hadn't known the extent in power of the color Red before this night, in overpowering; in swallowing up, smothering. Exploding in iridescence and irony, in trite translucent tragedy. It sinks into the ground. As it sinks into the bones of myself and my posterity.
I shivered and clutched my chest, that my heart did still beat. Noticing to my relief, it was thudding quite audibly amongst the quiet stir of grass and leaves beneath my feet. It was then I noticed the haunting silence of it all. I was alone.
But I was not alone, my eyes could see the smoke rise, they could almost feel the bullets whip through the wind. The chill of which caressed my skin in sensation. But sounds of gunfire, bombs bursting, yells yelping, the riotous roar of it all, were absent as a shadow. My veins turned to ice, my skin to stone.
In one particularly magnificent mingling of light, in one irradiating instant; I stumbled as sound met my deaf ears. Lightning and Fire danced in the sky. In this soulless shimmer, the slow shuttering lens of humanity captured the essence of something much beyond the present frame of existence. Breaking glass and pouring out of corners, a transcendental photograph. Reaching out through the pages of time to be acted out in accents yet unknown, by peoples yet unborn, to scream with insoluble resolve. The heart of man beats as one, we shall overcome.
Sep 26, 2011
Sep 26, 2011 at 1:49 AM UTC
My words are clumsy
and heavy as rocks thudding
on top of moist earth.
They're disruptive,
uncomfortable.
The noise of my voice like brass
clattering down a flight of stairs,
injured and dented.
Though underground, the sound
is silky and sleek.
My words falling like tiny pearls,
tap dancing daintily,
spilling smooth across marble,
rolling easily,
steady like pattering rain.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC