poetry

there is a story [untitled]

there is a story behind the
shape of your skin
the husk of your smile
guitar contours lace
the rhythm of your stare

β€œthere’s a circle, that
can’t be broken…”
cowboys
commas
curses – stir through the
smoke of your cigarette

denim and man
forged into veins of your beard

a tin can
rattles in a song you
sang above the poised audience
begging for air

 

 

Original draft

 

 

PhilosopherPoet

Advertisements
Standard
poetry

the one he buried

there was a small soul
who buried a hole
right underneath his
own carpet today

he thought that if he
could take enough
hysteria and squash it
into his jamjar with a
few simple fingers
people would come to watch

some healer had said
that putting your problems
in a jar overnight would
help you sink into the
swaddling momentum of peace

this morning he sat on his
bed and watched
the blister events
whirl wrapple quiver and
cry behind the tears of
peanut butter

watching it made him
late for work when a small
trickle of pathos rippled
down into the ground and
just above the lid

a few flies began
to sit there and watch
him hatch more
stone solid emotions

he cut his nails though
his grandmother
said a clean griever was
a righteous believer in
the book

she absorbed at night
today he only had a jar
to use and process the
heavy twinges for now.

that was ample enough
for his stamp of serenity
other folks grilled their
voices in waves of coffee
and headlines which
then made them scatter off
to imminent events

he finished his toast
wiped his hands
scrubbed his mouth
and got up feeling lighter

he pulled out the virile
tongue of his shoes and
tied the arms of laces
together to keep his
feet inside of the
brown arms that collected
at a heavy knot and

looked like a noose

PhilosopherPoet

Standard
poetry

Years away from sleep

Don’t call me

For I am footsteps away

Drinking in the sleep

Coated cream sheets

 

Stay where you are

There is no time for

Your feet to patter

On the old oak

Floors

 

I am footsteps and feet

Away from sleep

 

Tomorrow come give me

Your deep voice and

Sweaty whisper

I don’t feel old with my

Dream thick curls

And button eyes

 

Come back to the story

Standard