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"urbanised" poems
comprehensive and cohesive thought is perhaps too sophisticated for a mind that shatters upon arrival - i am not boundless; my thought cyclic like a sunrise or hyperbole or the soft decay of trees upon frost and grass upon high mountain, failing crop upon a forever urbanised temple. winding foundation i've clearly fallen through, lost within nothing but a clear crisp memory i think this setting is lost here but i don't think that your arms emanate enough heat for me to judge you've emptied me of difficulty whilst filling me with the clarity of misjudgement and this decadent optical illusion.
0
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 3:13 PM UTC
jessica-h-k
untitled / self
comprehensive and cohesive thought is perhaps too sophisticated for a mind that shatters upon arrival - i am not boundless; my thought cyclic like a sunrise or hyperbole or the soft decay of trees upon frost and grass upon high mountain, failing crop upon a forever urbanised temple. winding foundation i've clearly fallen through, lost within nothing but a clear crisp memory i think this setting is lost here but i don't think that your arms emanate enough heat for me to judge you've emptied me of difficulty whilst filling me with the clarity of misjudgement and this decadent optical illusion.
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16
you know, they say, prior to urbanisation, during the winter, people turned into rabbits because it was so bleak... but now winter in an urbanised system seems rather like a stare into a cold nearing ultra-violet light of the neon of adverts at piccadilly circus. spring came yesterday, long awaited i guess, head up my *** sort of speak, warm rain, not icy in venture of sleet, warm, while today a day of warm contentment, an hour spent on a bench imagining how it would be in Disneyland, two squirrels in a chase, woodland pigeons making ends meet, a menacing crow flying by with his hidden harem (i said it once, you never see crows do the pigeon thing of eager mating in front of you, i guess they do it in the dark), a robin with its crucified heart of the orange-red chest pout exploding, a blackbird rustling in shuffles; two beers in and i notice the disharmony of this spring compared with previous springs - the magnolias haven't really bloomed, the daffodils were already here in november, and the pink and white spring blossoms seem anorexic and dried out in terms of volume, they're scarcely colouring the backdrop of the uneventful blue of sky and green of the hills; summer is oh so monochromatic, the season that debases me into a laziness, a woman's sunglasses and a hood to protect me from sunstroke, just lazying on a bench thinking of a place in the archive of humanity, next to the anchovies, i hope... the weeping willow with its furry caterpillar sprouts; it's all there, if you're lazy enough to peer at it.
0
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
spring / piccadilly circus
you know, they say, prior to urbanisation, during the winter, people turned into rabbits because it was so bleak... but now winter in an urbanised system seems rather like a stare into a cold nearing ultra-violet light of the neon of adverts at piccadilly circus. spring came yesterday, long awaited i guess, head up my *** sort of speak, warm rain, not icy in venture of sleet, warm, while today a day of warm contentment, an hour spent on a bench imagining how it would be in Disneyland, two squirrels in a chase, woodland pigeons making ends meet, a menacing crow flying by with his hidden harem (i said it once, you never see crows do the pigeon thing of eager mating in front of you, i guess they do it in the dark), a robin with its crucified heart of the orange-red chest pout exploding, a blackbird rustling in shuffles; two beers in and i notice the disharmony of this spring compared with previous springs - the magnolias haven't really bloomed, the daffodils were already here in november, and the pink and white spring blossoms seem anorexic and dried out in terms of volume, they're scarcely colouring the backdrop of the uneventful blue of sky and green of the hills; summer is oh so monochromatic, the season that debases me into a laziness, a woman's sunglasses and a hood to protect me from sunstroke, just lazying on a bench thinking of a place in the archive of humanity, next to the anchovies, i hope... the weeping willow with its furry caterpillar sprouts; it's all there, if you're lazy enough to peer at it.
Continue reading...
31