"tristful" poems
A nascent society gluttonously feeds
on the palingenesis of hyaline paragons
forged by stolid and archaic eremites.
A whilom friendship leaks a susurrus
of tristful regret,
while pernicious ***** maunder
puerile attacks on munificent
intellectuals who only wish to
augment risible souls and divagate
from vertiginous roads too often traveled.
Such a chimerical respect for tradition
is too rigid to be broken alone.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 3:09 PM UTC
A nascent society gluttonously feeds
on the palingenesis of hyaline paragons
forged by stolid and archaic eremites.
A whilom friendship leaks a susurrus
of tristful regret,
while pernicious ***** maunder
puerile attacks on munificent
intellectuals who only wish to
augment risible souls and divagate
from vertiginous roads too often traveled.
Such a chimerical respect for tradition
is too rigid to be broken alone.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
dreams of dying
then what happens?
mine will go to the darkness, like hers did
and she will weep giant waterdropletsonmyface,
and i will drink them until my stomach is full of sadness
she will always be reaching for that small moment of peace
and i will always be searching for someone to love me
she has no heart, no *******
no legs no belly no heat
now you are here
your clothes are vacant
i want to wear them for you
let's be together
climb into each other's shirts and skirts and socks until
we can't move anymore
and we'll lay over each other
resting and reading sleeping warmly
and you will never be tristful, here with me
and your lips will taste like sweet coffee
all the time
how nectarous
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 6:39 PM UTC
The night falls with a
silent sigh,
Entwined we are.
The light for which you
lust flares once,
Then dies.
Crushed by a velvet ebon
nothingness,
All we hope for must come
to an end.
Our passion's,
Throb no more.
How could you tear us asunder?
Our tristful emotions surround
us,
Crying,
We have lost our way.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
I'm afraid.
That the feelings I hold
Will fall from my grasp.
I'm afraid.
Of saying those words
That if spoken,
Would vanish into thin air,
I'm afraid...
That the feelings I express,
Are feelings based on lies
That have been painted by myself...
These fears I have
I know are wistful,
Desiring and yet
Holding feelings fickle,
Wanting truth... and yet,
Comforting myself with lies tristful.
There are feelings I am afraid to voice.
If voiced, just like before,
They would lose their meaning.
That if spoken, they would just become
The past.
These feelings that I hold,
Are they lies?
Or has everything become a regret?
That if spoken,
If fulfilled,
Parting with it comes with ease
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 10:53 AM UTC