We Are The Ocean
We puddle splash
boots of vast
intricate classed
shocks of tide
we expand to heel,
paring in ripples foe
depths of see-
through aperture,
in lone hands
we prune, in ease
sailors touch,
sight of drape
horizons, we bid
a due, shy in tide
retract for interest,
I withdraw to meet
lens, inadvisable mark
and beats of silent
crash, we are wave,
we leave savage,
in melange are met
soft coral hair,
novel breezes in
calendered season,
breathe from cars
pass, moons pass
and lounging glance,
a dream spot settle
in the abrade we
construe, in eyes
blend of perfection,
we are the ocean.
I love this.
I’m glad :)
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but I’m starting to pay more and more attention to your stuff. You’ve got quite a way with words man.
Hey thanks I really appreciate it :)
I’m defiantly glad you enjoy it,
I get a lot of inspiration from your posts.
Perhaps A Break
I feel it gnawing
my ankles bleed,
sluggish in hiatus,
backtrack in sight
an expansive
trudge, I walk
alone, timid
emptiness
half full
bottles of rum,
darkness in a
swollen room,
pens worst enemy,
an ink-full foe,
hostage fingers
thread like needles
put to unwilling work
willing to tire,
tracks billow
hot lead in chain,
unchained and bare,
melted thoughts
in break room flow,
I’m calloused in smiles.
There’s nothing else to live for, you say?
cling to a memory, search in laughter
find that inner child, full of energy
en coursed with more spirit then
a drunk, who’s motto is to only
live for tonight, hospital beds
and threads in vein, strung
free untied and unreleased,
tie it to a tree and swing,
swing away the sorrow
you feel, an empty
heart is easily filled
let it all in, smile in
pictures like you did in
days past, bring in the
past, cherish smiles and
uplift these devised demons
who sought hard to bring you
down, the only way to go now is
up, so spread your arms close your
eyes, smell the fresh breeze, feel the
suns rays reflect your pours, feel the rain
pour down your face, feel to feel, its called
life, emotions and thought, don’t let it go, not
now, there is far to much for you to see and do
everything your eyes touch, is worth the journey.
Does it seem worth it??
Tuned Out
We hum our tune
poised in no harm
as car doors slam
and headphones jam
we break forward,
revolving doors
my head is taking
a trip down memory
lane, in retirement
we see images,
I see images,
childhood deja vu
nightmares come
forth, on the fourth
day of this injustice
as I stand in disbelief
at the site in front
of me, the site
entrenched in my soul,
for soulless eerie tunes,
i hum in disregard,
in the back of my head.
Sex Drive
Symmetric form
between friction,
touching velvet,
sheets and pelt
calm and felt,
rubbing, in lotion
drive in bottles
plural, restrict
and fine craft,
we’ve crafted
short breathes
on shirts torn,
how so apart
from ones vibe,
in another hymn,
sore in tight font,
clap hands on
plight for lights,
clapped by thigh,
inch by inch
we roll, we beat,
to the floor below,
in experience on,
soaked tongues
words in bit,
never take a leap,
unless certain
two can land.
We Can Make It Last
In inspiration we’ve striven
to the bowels of every sign
made wrong by every turn
in each arithmetic sequence
in each quandary of sunken
hearts, I’m skinned to the
bone and shaking, splintered
for the touch of familiar
fingers, in warmth I find
meaning, a precipice to
ponder, over crystal lakes
can we string these moments
together, instead of compose
uncanny, reminiscent, fictitious
diversions of the past, a forgotten
embrace, we can lock it all away
behind closed curtains and
hesitant eyes, beyond the chord
of a guitar, we can strum until the
blue sky passes by, when the sun
cries its final goodbye, when at last
rest your head on the pillow of my
shoulder, your safety, with a smile
on your face as I watch you sleep,
these are the nights to remember,
placed in the primary of my rising
heart, returning to its rightful place.
Not Until July
We break surface
in shredded syllable,
our remarks shuffle,
in tones of the wind,
played out in a dazzle.
Caressed in boardwalk,
on strides of verbal talk,
peering against salted
eyes, we ripple toward
the peak of the horizon,
a support reach opposite.
Slipped in repeat at hand,
clenched full of white sand,
full on rays of broken skin
tend to mended wounds,
or soon to be bleeding.
Dialed in to exhale openly,
an inhale is quite contrary,
we play like a deaf canary
or a parrot locked away,
we key in open queues.
Riveting ultimatum,
take me in cuffs,
drift in arms,
arms race,
serenity.
I need some Jack Daniels
hmmm yep
All you needed was time,
circles in palm, I cascade
in the essence of hands,
moving, shifting
together and apart,
can we point forward
as we tick back,
we seem to always meet
again and again
in days end, we will never
stop moving, our
clockwise renditions,
we’ve been through this.
I will turn back this clock,
to hold your hand again,
our motions, our fingers
will always end up meeting,
time will never really know,
what it means to need time.
My Means of Writing
I write in scatter,
in seismic pattern
followed in naught,
a finger can’t trace,
though a mind can
figure, if revealed,
figures in shade,
shapes without
shape, a gape,
closed gates,
where in sharp
tongues, I hither
movements bare,
raw forming in catch
return to sender,
depths of an ocean
away from a current,
for a current blank,
I’m drawn in rhythm,
sketched in epidemic
cursed fingers aboard
withered hands, who’s
eyes have seen plenty,
though not enough
never enough, engulfed
in ink, I roll I splatter
white paper suffered
dreams fornicated in
black, so it seems,
I’m seeing possibility,
swallowed in a world
of endless wording,
motionless muse caved,
in which i use in escape.
Computed codes
devised of ash,
we billow,
false touch
numerical difference
strung from a kite,
suffocated at height,
shifting platforms
fired in flame,
melted morning dew
cold-ens my lips,
an input error
it’s not an error,
or is it a side note,
melodic paper spins
machines with no heart,
trusted in password
trace my fingers
breathe it in,
smirk in distress,
this is only binary.
Simple
Shame in all resistance
as we question out brittle
existence, our curse,
in the cusp of good wine,
we solemnly await for a truth,
in truth we find nothing.
Forging and repaired,
destiny is but a years embrace,
found through inner ambition,
the dusk of a lifeless day,
we know this, learn this,
sharp rocks and a brush of ivy,
slowly seeping into our core,
souls grow tired in an effort
shown in an empty home,
rings of a kettle clock,
awaken yourself, your heart
is beating, follow it,
for if not one day,
you’ll regret it.
