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Literature Text
the grass is verd ant wet
it krills through my toes
and slags under my feet
the sky is as you, blue
dotted with cloud sand sculptures
of heroic beasts
and villainous hands tandem
like a wilting glance
shifting from dawn to dusk
the tree czar, happy with birds
lush rich reaching deep, deep
within thearth and hearth
cradling bed s'oft children
falling as tigers shake the branches (Sanchez)
making real the nursery crimes
times with her wither
with him within the reaches and depths
of coiled coins and granular sky diving dances
gift given hand sanities are pressed like
kneaded brows needing comfort
come for the wine,
stave, or the kisses
but leave for the trees, happy with birds
songs long lasting deep, deep
into the sleepless night
--
bah, tin - my eyes
the grass is grey and jággedy
an djinns dænce to the dim din
but in my eyes
the sky is grey and operas sieve
through screaming curtains of clarity
blurred with clouds and sculptures
shifting from grey to grey to grey to grey too grey
the trees are grey with grey birds
preying on the maggots that feast on their fallen children
when the bough breaks the cradle will
be rebuilt on the same frail tree
grey'll be the end of me
the end of me
the end of me
come for the wine
stay for the kisses
leave for the trees in season
treason in grey
tree song ingré
the silence holds
till
the silence
holds
still.
it krills through my toes
and slags under my feet
the sky is as you, blue
dotted with cloud sand sculptures
of heroic beasts
and villainous hands tandem
like a wilting glance
shifting from dawn to dusk
the tree czar, happy with birds
lush rich reaching deep, deep
within thearth and hearth
cradling bed s'oft children
falling as tigers shake the branches (Sanchez)
making real the nursery crimes
times with her wither
with him within the reaches and depths
of coiled coins and granular sky diving dances
gift given hand sanities are pressed like
kneaded brows needing comfort
come for the wine,
stave, or the kisses
but leave for the trees, happy with birds
songs long lasting deep, deep
into the sleepless night
--
bah, tin - my eyes
the grass is grey and jággedy
an djinns dænce to the dim din
but in my eyes
the sky is grey and operas sieve
through screaming curtains of clarity
blurred with clouds and sculptures
shifting from grey to grey to grey to grey too grey
the trees are grey with grey birds
preying on the maggots that feast on their fallen children
when the bough breaks the cradle will
be rebuilt on the same frail tree
grey'll be the end of me
the end of me
the end of me
come for the wine
stay for the kisses
leave for the trees in season
treason in grey
tree song ingré
the silence holds
till
the silence
holds
still.
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Literature
Price of Too Much Self-confidence (Six Word Story)
Thinking he would win, he lost.
Literature
On Writing
all the words
all the senses
all the dirt and smell and roughness
the bursting heart
fresh cold water
CRASH of waves and then the ache within
trickling nothing tears and itching legs
all these things
someone wrote them, a bit.
How can you tell anyone
else? How can you thrust
the living today
into someone else's soul?
This is just a nut in a banana leaf.
Literature
the ghost
I don't know what I'm waiting for,
because I am a ghost and yet
I sit on my hands and wonder
where you've been -
I walk the forest in circles,
the methodical crunch
of leaves beneath my feet
and I remember
that you made me feel small,
and alone. here I am, facing
this brilliant hue that is me and myself
and I am the ghost but somehow
you are haunting me.
Suggested Collections
shall we
shell we
fill we
fell we.
This poem is best read out loud. so i changed the category to spoken word. The lines may be interpreted differently to someone who strictly hears the poem without knowing the written words.
shell we
fill we
fell we.
This poem is best read out loud. so i changed the category to spoken word. The lines may be interpreted differently to someone who strictly hears the poem without knowing the written words.
© 2015 - 2024 slenderblade
Comments4
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Really love the flow.