A Poet's Encyclopedia& the moment's slipped away The chance for something Beautiful & poetic To be thrown into the quiet air, To be awed at like a meteor shower In a dark, late night atmosphere of the room. But his poet fails again.A Poet's Encyclopedia
Opportunities never taken Too scared, within her head, of Words straight out her mind, Words hot off her lips. She can picture them Tripping awkwardly around Like little girls at their first ballet class.
She could write encyclopedias, Volumes on the ultimate ways To get tangled up in the worst things That mean the most
The Ice Bard's SongListen! Children, By the lips that Were meant to be kissed not chapped, Is whispered lyrics that Were meant to be sung not spoken.The Ice Bard's Song
Look! Children, As hands that
Were meant to caress not callous
Perform signs for stories that Were meant to have fanciful pictures not fumbling gestures.
Not all destinies come true Some just have to make do.
Time has taught us great things Like sometimes we do what others order For selfish reasons like we actually want to. Like sometimes picture perfect Is hiding things just beyond the frame. &nb
Sunday NightsIt's time toSunday Nights
Throw clothes stained
With meaningless words & careless touches Into the laundry.
Try to blink away The lack of sleep & brush stale beer
Out of your teeth.
Wash the cigarettes Out of your hair & scrub the bar fights & tipsy falls Off your limbs.
Bear a mostly cold shower when the tank runs out 'Cause only two minutes of steaming water Isn't enough to no longer feel dirty After two steamy nights.
& you never cease to be amazed That one night of being alone again Can so rapidly unrav
Modern MythologyStars align & pull our strings Celestial puppet masters? Conductors of a symphony, Directors of a Greek tragedy?Modern Mythology
But there is no such things As titans? Or dryads? Or god(s)? Or an undying love?
& when it's cold Her shoulders are bare. & mist kisses them gently Like a half asleep lover Early in the morning. & sends small shivers Racing down her spine In the same way.
We're still slipping back & forth
It seems But these days
It's with different things.
Like three Fates & their complexly wov
Lock Picks and RocksWe broke into the old apartment to look for things we'd lost when moving on and moving out, across the streetLock Picks and Rocks
and sixteen cities South. I tried to take the poems from the windows but memories are more permanent than marker. Mornings seemed longer when sunrise wrote words on bare walls and bare skin, or when I traced end-rhymes and metaphors into the curve
of your hips.
These days we don't sleep.
and I couldn't find them; instead
we found furniture that spelled apathy
and wrong words on right angles, organized
and dead. They painted over &nbs
inspiredThink about it, mister. It's supposed to be a ring, a circle,inspired
and her favourite shape is a triangle. She's in love and she's a born
protagonist and life isn't a shape, or real. Tomorrow she wakes up a boy, yesterday she was a princess. Today she is yours, just yours.
You'd be tired of thinking, no doubt, if you married her. She just wouldn't stop and you wouldn't be able to
stop her.
Not even if you tried. She wouldn't let you. All those nouns you sprinkled her, but you'd never expect your love to be flipping pages whilst on top of you.
Why I Don't Say ItThe steps beneath us hurt. They're made of cherry wood; your dad was so proud to finish them last year. He bought a boat just to reward the job well done. Dad wasn't rating them for comfort.Why I Don't Say It
We sit here anyway. I told you I quit smoking but, well, tonight that's not entirely true. The haze of old cigarettes hangs in a flat cloud near the top of the garage, like the past attempting to eavesdrop on us. Learn a few lessons. Find out where it went wrong.
Whatever noise had been floating around us, ripping apart the quiet we tried to find, it's d
moon woman.i.moon woman.
you can find her in the sand oceans, but only if you don’t look too hard.
she knows what it’s like to search.
she is three hundred years old, she says but she’s lying; she’s as old as all the stars just as beautiful, just as unreachable, even though she wanted to be there for him.
he was blind in her glow.
ii.
she lives in the craters, in the meadows filled with moon flowers and star bugs.
from her front porch she watches the ear
Modern Mythology
Content
--
If she has to tell the story,
She tells it slowly
- ~AnUrbanNomad, "And They Didn't Sleep..."
i didnt think many would do it but it made me smile that you did!yeyyy!
--
Hear lit tweet here
Sat on his thingers
trying hard to behave
Along came a deviant
and made him all creamiant
when she ran off with a fave.
-
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