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Literature Text
Lucid, abusive
Tongue in cheek divine
Stupid, elusive
Lost soul of mine
A snap of orchestral fingers to summon the suave illustrator
Mohawk punks and minions to smash the limp masturbator
Loveless, acquiesce
Arpeggio flutter ripples
Convalesce, Fancy dress
Breasts with perky nipples
One or two drinks, make it three then five
Keeping the blood warm and love alive
Visceral, peripheral
Dark raven hair
Liberal, scriptural
I couldn’t even care.
I adored her all, her everything, her gleaming demeanor
The subtle wink of her eyes, the glow; even greener
Exotica, ex machina
Street amazon of desert glass sand
No drama, rural karma
Flesh sweating like the heat of Sudan
Dead singers like Cole and Morrison sing of paper moons and Crystal Ships
The mixed CD segues to U2, Pulp, and then The Flaming Lips.
"Nightingale", minor scale
The saxophonist played under the street lamp outside
Folktale female
“Another drink?” she abides, two glasses and wine supplied
On her balcony we watched and listened, to the call of urban passion
The wordless music we adored, a testament to our mutual attraction.
Tongue in cheek divine
Stupid, elusive
Lost soul of mine
A snap of orchestral fingers to summon the suave illustrator
Mohawk punks and minions to smash the limp masturbator
Loveless, acquiesce
Arpeggio flutter ripples
Convalesce, Fancy dress
Breasts with perky nipples
One or two drinks, make it three then five
Keeping the blood warm and love alive
Visceral, peripheral
Dark raven hair
Liberal, scriptural
I couldn’t even care.
I adored her all, her everything, her gleaming demeanor
The subtle wink of her eyes, the glow; even greener
Exotica, ex machina
Street amazon of desert glass sand
No drama, rural karma
Flesh sweating like the heat of Sudan
Dead singers like Cole and Morrison sing of paper moons and Crystal Ships
The mixed CD segues to U2, Pulp, and then The Flaming Lips.
"Nightingale", minor scale
The saxophonist played under the street lamp outside
Folktale female
“Another drink?” she abides, two glasses and wine supplied
On her balcony we watched and listened, to the call of urban passion
The wordless music we adored, a testament to our mutual attraction.
Literature
Finite
I sometimes wish you were small—
so small you could sail this little model ship
into the clouds and never have
to look at a bowl full of put-out cigarettes again,
or make those oh-so-obvious
black paper hearts that you tear
down the center only to
band-aid back together
when I assure you, once again,
that you’re not worthless.
Remember the license plate you had
on that old blue car—
the one that said DANCE?
I wish you’d do that again;
I wish you’d do it in the middle of that abandoned attic
with its weathered beams and emptiness
like we did as children, without shame
or purpose.
You once said that everywher
Literature
blind eye
she always said if
ever a house was
built for hide and seek,
it was ours.
maybe she was right,
or maybe she just couldn't see past
her reflection in the window.
i guess it doesn't matter.
as the dawn sets light
to the horizon
and her first cigarette,
we hide within the crevices,
the coils of smoke
that roll from her lips.
Literature
Swamp eyes
I am the creator, the mover,
the shaker.
Shapeless invader, the accuser,
the taker.
Subliminal mind, the mythical,
the maker.
I am swamp eyes
Thriving, breeding, decedent dark.
Eyes overflowing, sinking arks.
Rhythmic, plucking morbid harps.
I am swamp eyes
Accursed slithering, wilted disguise.
Cruel, demented fate, awaiting unwise.
Baptize the skies, with my cries.
uncharted unknown
I am swamp eyes
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There's a deep sorrowful place in my heart for the night roamers of life. Especially in cities and places where it's common to see the struggling and insomniac writer huddled in a corner of a diner. To see late shift waitresses and artists loiter along the layered asphalt and bars. There is always much to be experienced and learned from this world. Amazing how the day calls for a different set of people; unique with jobs and rural families while the night was there to accompany the individuals who desire something more.
This was influenced by that idiom of living. Also, it can be a derivative of the film of the same name, "After Hours" by Martin Scorsese (1985)
Other such experiences would be Films like "The Addiction", "Bad Lieutenant", "Dark City", "Blade Runner", "Mulholland Dr", "Metropolis", "Chinatown", "American Psycho", "Fight Club", "Choke" , "Shame" and many more.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think if you have the time.
This was influenced by that idiom of living. Also, it can be a derivative of the film of the same name, "After Hours" by Martin Scorsese (1985)
Other such experiences would be Films like "The Addiction", "Bad Lieutenant", "Dark City", "Blade Runner", "Mulholland Dr", "Metropolis", "Chinatown", "American Psycho", "Fight Club", "Choke" , "Shame" and many more.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think if you have the time.
Comments13
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This is gotta be in my top 10 list of all time favorite poems. So wonderful, I love the word choice and the way the words sort of flow. Amazing IMO.