How old are you?
What do you want to do
When you grow older, becoming…
What is your favorite word?
Do you smile when you say it, or
When it’s spoken aloud?
Go ahead and tell me
Everything you hold inside,
Hoping one day to let it all go.
Go ahead and tell me
What you keep from yourself
When the lights go out
And you’re alone in the dark,
Giving in to madness to avoid sadness.
Go ahead and tell me
Who you really are,
Who you want to be
And who you cannot continue as.
-
How old are you?
-
wind’ed
When walking,
Onward,
Stepping
Lightly
Between the through-broken
Tufts of green,[ …]
We are patient.When time,
Simple
Excesses,
Melts off the skin,[ …]
We are patient.[When accepting
There is more,
Following
wind’ed words
Toward sanity, …]When nature,
[You know,
The real world,]
Finds us,
Lends us a view
Of life, unrestrained,[ …]
We are patient.When this world’s
Place in the spin
Pushes us
To be where we be,[ …]
We are patient.When we
Follow
Our
Instincts,
Those
Bits of ourselves
We know not until needed,[ …]
We are patient.
-
lights in the distance
Staring toward the sparkling worlds
Just beyond reach, slowly growing
Bored with this world, but I know
More exist, and can fade safely now.The sweetness of being here is
Being buried, let churn in dance
Of dust and carrion there, the
Fuel of progress not hunted yet.The slow play grinds closer toward a goal, but
after the bang is the resting echo, before the
second shot can be heard.I want to write on a crowded page, a dark screen, somewhere no one will remember me.
I want to be with life and living, journeying from where I need to be by season and leaving behind all other reasons. We are nomadic, yes? We are meant to roam to find a nook or cranny from which our world can expand, yet be kept separate from the rest. Solitude? No. We want autonomy.
-
I got more than 99, but that ain’t braggin’
This skin I’m in
Holds me more
Together than
A mind so shallow.
I wait to wade for tide
And avoid the future flow,
‘Cuz I’m livin’ in the ebb,
My toes buried ‘neath the sand,
Like life is so much better where
I can’t see the wash comin’ in;
I got 99 problems, more?–
Should I even account for the past,
Or make this about where I am today?–
I got 99 problems, more?, but
I got them blinders on, tellin’ me
The future’s all that’s worth seein’, see
We livin’ like now gets us there alone,
But, nah, you gotta look ahead ‘n’ know
You, me, we all get there eventually.
-
you tried to sell your soul
you tried to sell your soul
for
another dollar;
more
would have been too much.
-
we’re alone because of who we are
and this world,
this
orb/
misshaped,
holding on to us
as though needed we are,
though we know
it will continue without us,
this world follows cycle
but observed and meant only
as a means of being, this world
gives us view of life
most extraordinary, in
hopes others exist as same,
despite likelihood of
diversity, much like
we witness
without knowing
we are already not alone.how absolutely silly
to wonder if we are alone
when the world holds
our friends, our fellows,
and we treat them as resources.
how absurd to think
one would want to
play with the child
slamming its friends and toys
against the floor,
while screaming for
another.
-
voluntas
voluntas
giving in is more than i
expected of myself, but
there’s a reason for ever-
ything.i forgot the meaning,
left before seeing
the error made.as many spaces
between thought
prior and thought
now, and i still
cannot absolve
myself of all
that’s been said;
as many words
written, between
then and now, i
cannot unknow
what i did not
know then.giving in
is more than i
expected of myself,
but the small hand
moves slow enough
that i could catch up,
stumble ‘on,
keep going,
and all those other
mediocre phrases
coined to
make one ignore defeat.giving in is more than i
expected of myself, but i
know more now than ever
the lights on corner shine
whether i’m muddied or fine.giving in is more than i
expected of myself, but i
guess pride is sold high,
while i knew only my
self, and no visitors,
but those from space,
came to visit, and i knew
the tiger stripes on
rain-soaked window would be
the only memory, for i
could control that moment, i
could wipe them away, or
sit and love their
path, the one of
least resistance, where
the reward is pooling,
lasting longer than if
they had stayed to dry
without…giving in, i guess i
saw myself in ruin,
having given more
than taken, though
not if family counts.returned to find
the memories of
a mind, failing
to see what waits
behind an image, or
animations, tuned-in
and clear, while
shadow crackles
’round who i was
behind eyes used
sparingly to see
myself, to see
anyone not in
front of me;
i gave in to
forgetting,
falling for
the clarity
of no conscience,
no scenery
not in front of me.