Whereabouts
You can't see me cause I'm not here. I'm over there. Because there isn't here, here is here and there is there. And I'm there. So I'm not here, so you can't see me. You see my residue, of where I once was, because I'm no longer here. I'm there.
-by Me :-)
reader's block on reader's blog
ain't havin´ speaker's block
although I should
while I'm readin´
this reader's blog
havin´ no writer's block
either, although I could
while enjoyin´ this
reader's blog
reader's block I got,
so bad
just a title,
a line or two,
is all I can do
I've played it all-thought out movements-game in hand-might as well tell- how we all end up the same-in the end-the rules must change-and bend-no one ever really the same-ever really winning a game-I've played it all out
well its kinda short but it doesnt ryhme and if you want to see it its my newest blog
I'll Drink to Girls that say they Will,
I'll Drink to Girls that say they Won't,
But I Will Not Drink to girls that say they Will and Later Don't,
I have turned into dust ,
couldn't be the same anymore ,
how could I , in my own land , be so lost,
when I was the only one who watched everything grow.
HOPE U LIKE IT ;-)
tell me where the forgotten flower grows.
for a barren field thinning quick the memory
has webbed the corridor of childhoods missing glow.
is it here, in the now, inside the me?
still aching for the arching passing sun;
do thirsty roots rot and recoil us?
can these question germinate the answer!
Everyone seeks a home...
Leaving their nests behind...
Only to return to the starting line...
And to remember what was lost in the beginning of time.
The girl waits.
She waits. She waits. She waits.
In the bitter silence she waits.
Yet no one stirs. No one comes.
There are no hello or good byes.
And the dream dies.
Gray passions veiled in expression, haunted masks of loves missing touch covering the blue flesh of the sky, expands accross the full width of my horizon: floating over our city which lays in bones under the stretched skin of an extinct knowledge growing along the desert floor.
I've sought no ordinary permission,
and though it was dished out glad-handedly,
the alphabet belongs to the wind
or locked in a chest with the lost souls
while sentient beings struggle at the wheel
and wind riots through the canyons
above the thief
Only metaphors can rebuild those souls
for just this side of heaven the volunteers are ready
with pots and pans to bang the new day into place
while the transient remains wedded
to a wounded heart. I wonder
who is boss of the magic
The snakes quote a price
and though the thought is half off
it's still too much to ask
given the sun will rise on the machines
while likelihoods go hungry
Extremely effective juxtaposition of such a dichotomy of two emotions. One of the best I've read. Made my day!
"while the transient remains wedded
to a wounded heart."
my heart is hurt
i've hurt another heart
and in the end both heart are hurt
--The Shower--
Hot water
beating down
my neck and back
my cheek pressed against
the cool tile,
feels better than
any man's hand
I have known;
Almost like a good book.
...
feels better than
any man's hand
I have known;
Almost like a good book.
DPenn: Almost like a good book....is an abrupt ending and almost a non-sequitur. As a reader, I was enjoying the shower with you only to be jerked out of the warm, wet soothing shower and plopped into the hot, dry heat of an armchair parked next to a fireplace (just a stereotypical place for a good read).
If you don't mind a recommendation, keep the shower-as-better-lover metaphor going (for examples):
feels better than
any man's hand
I have known;
gentle and unrushed -
undemanding attention.
or
feels better than
any man's hand
I have known;
If I could just spend
the whole night
in its embrace.
Thanks Writch. I added that last line rather abruptly, actually. Maybe I should just take it out. The point was that reading is so pleasurable for me there is really nothing better. Also, word can really transport us into another realm, can't they? Isn't that what good books do?
...The point was that reading is so pleasurable for me there is really nothing better. Also, word can really transport us into another realm, can't they? Isn't that what good books do?
I agree whole-heartedly! So much so, that I challenge you to write a few lines about your Book-as-better-lover. (It deserves its own attention).
Thanks Writch. I added that last line rather abruptly, actually. Maybe I should just take it out. The point was that reading is so pleasurable for me there is really nothing better. Also, words can really transport us into another realm, can't they? Isn't that what good books do?
Where does the sleeper go?
When sleeping, somewhere close
The sleeper goes, where the sleeper goes
Right above your nose!
-by Me :-)