"unsuddenly" poems
. o
f
hu
man
thin
gs: ma
ny doin
g, thing
s human
are more n
eatly couth i
n Into-Dust co
ats of polite var
nish and their ha
ats hang at precise
their teeth ivory and
the smell of their colo
gne catches back at the
throat wearing finest silk
s (but time, time looks bru
tally through their and prim
shoes and trousers. knees sag
eyes hang instantly
languor w
ears them like cheap perfume and
laughter unsuddenly from nowhere
crisps the cheeks of everywaiting sou
l creeks with soon to be dirt bones and
amongst them sprouts something gener
ous. Less close to nearly dead, and has (l
ike a frond has) demure sturdy waifish. its
timber is clothed in blonde lips and eyes lik
e waking almost never(no like daffodils; yes l
ike more them) only daffodils, they are not so b
right, nor as agile, i think but who knows i was o
nly a boy who, from across the street noticed, a girl
pressed between death,
laughing like a *****
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
the more less you (than unsuddenly writhing
with magic)i write for is really not and too
bad 'cause(taking with neat blackest fingers: me)
if you were i would swear a poem of fast
intricate roses(who amongst coyly hidden
scythes take)that swell with scents as
nearly radiant and folded as thy own scent
of swelling(so please waiting too long don't to
finding) enchanted nothing: rolls and rolls
of stink
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 3:19 AM UTC
elle n'est pas one hell
of an elle in does
brightly chafe with
dower stocking removal
hastily into thigh as thigh
does improbably hairless
Glide into petite grande
pink pretty pinched heaping
of dryless ****** helping
of **** help needing
A quick drizzle of angles that
unsuddenly with immortal pairing
bare the rude stem of Spring–
which cannot unbarley but to shreak
the tiniest whisper of "please into my
house enter the deepest blooming
of red red red steam "
being i just could only
that at
the naked perfume
of her
seeping incessantly laughter
but to boom as wide and cloyingly
drunk with open health
as God had said
making the world
by one word: she
said not one word
(making my world)
but two,
**** me"
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
Does my life lie within the sighs of limelit crying?
Stained forever, its dim, outshined, most importantly, not shining.
Loose
Dying by the poorest of timing,
it seems strange of me.
Not to mention that chirping
Usurping
Word murdering phrases curdling
and unsuddenly curling nails back, furling the unfurled.
It's not working.
Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 9:53 AM UTC
Unsuddenly
quite sadly
and plain
matter of factly
she passed away.
Now
Mother would say
don't weep for me
just keep for me
a small place in your heart
but a small place
hardly starts to begin to put in
the wealth of her wisdom,
it would have to be
a mansion
Which I suppose my Mother's
heart was.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 7:36 AM UTC