Its passive nature, flipping softly, raising air and small bits of matter Eyes drawn and beat and haven. The frail soft bird spoke notes, not in a summer breeze Of blue and white and greys, in hues of texture and had some days seen better Caged within bars, drawing weight and flatter; it sat dark and oppressive among iron trees
Its’ drops hit earth expectantly, like claws the ground begins to crawl With liquid momentum and pulse, you tell me no When winters pass and earth softens, the rains begin to fall Like tussles with the gods, I cry, you reach for me to go
It hurts, but feels alive- as he tells me how I’ve lied Fake and untrue, my grain is no legitimate substitute How to explain that it is not now I’m false, but then, I cry You linger in momentous trepidation and repulse- I refute
In vein, I muster strength, in time I halter recourse The rains wet my soul, as claws crawl up my skirts I hunger and repulse from it, I fondle with the source You leave me with no options, I fall in mud and sand so course
The sky rumbles with spewing anger, pouring to the earth with vigor Cool dirt and pitter patter, splashing and trickling blind my ears My face streaming, joining the rains, the blood the thunder It is not with lies I told you, but truths, my dear
Like rocks retaining heat, it's warmth sucked cold by earth, I walk in Boston The trees are swaying restlessly in these rainy new england days Wandering minds and hands and feet, rustling bags and dirty streets Eyes focused, astray and wandering... the subway grinding, we walk
I find it peculiar. The thoughtless focus, loud noises of thought, emotion and energy merging Smells of air, moistness, perfumes.. wisps of cold subway wind and sprinkling mists Cars and people and time. Moving and passing in and out of attraction
My thoughts are richer in town, en route, in mindlessness To think and ponder and scrutinize. To review this days bad news. Tomorrow, it rains. I plan to relish in newenglandism, by going out anyway. I can think of nothing better to shush the chaos, than Boston on a warm, rainy night.
It is with fervor and tolerance that I embrace the humility of life Sufferers who exude apathy and selfishness collide; In a life of only experiences and a death of likely none, time is of the essence.
Do not waste understanding through lethargy and laziness. Knowledge is founded on many, many minds. We are each only granted one. And with it, only one chance to add to that knowledge.
The angelic children raised their hands to upset his long blond hair in evenly soft strokes he wonders why nearly all of their eyes refuse to speak they gently grasp the light strands pulling, snapping until the only remains sought the wind dancing in gold whispering of white wine why, he thinks do they not call him by his real name.
It's a night like no other and dreams cast shadows like a story behind closed doors so many voices an army an army of many thoughts, choice loves, losses I cry for you for anyone willing to listen to a moment a moment of darkness here in the folds of life.
Becoming lissome valuable limitlessness altering past beliefs of my own abilities his nurturing words and anti sensitivities are breaking down my inhibitions a wonderful alteration of myself unearthed slowly learning to modulate the key in my own composition that I call my life.
There are so many words thoughts, feelings uncertainties Dreams, irrational phrases ignorant beliefs of life the way that I write it as I don't record everything just the poems that flow onto paper like drugs into societies blood quick, unrehearsed contemplating not censored for eyes, I write for myself and me alone to release a knot that's inside of me and only is relieved in this form
A bird Who's strength is beyond doubt or compromise it's sound rolling off the tongue easily missed but instantly acknowledged seeking through lands learning daily a representation of my childhood reflected in a soul undeniably certain in his identity