It’s a feeling that’s more than a feeling
Like an itchy elbow that cannot be itched
A recurring thought weaving its plans
Undoubtedly gently, so subtly urged
And nestled, and cuddled, and squeezed
Into a mold so earthly seated
Next to precious corners of life
That neither time nor obstacles hinder
Where no word plies this rooted fabric
Which sinews, taken from this same itchy feeling,
Are used to steadfast so strong a bond
So effortless a unison that does makes sense
That it feels good to be a part of
It’s a feeling that’s more than a feeling
Unfound (day 810)
A turned over rock
What once stayed fast
For thousands of years
Put up, tumbled
Upset in an instant
In search
Of an anomaly
Of yet, unfound
Imprints (day 809)
Wake up my beautiful sparkles
Shift the sun into our moments
Lift your eyes to broken spaces
Wandering about like tea leaves
Waiting to reflect thoughts and
Leaving imprints in sandy beaches
Dried Tears (day 808)
In blossom I cry
I whisper to winds
Sharing thoughts
Short lived moments
Fluttering [almost]
Like the bumble bee
Skirting here and there
To then be
Where we once were
A dried tear
Upon falls spoils
A Hand Shake (day 807)
I’ve been the leftover
The gimme-gimme gone
Got you by the balls in the halls
Leftover
Give it or not
Lost, blown in the end
A dream or a thought
Give it away, give it away, give it away
Now drop.
Let the groove hold your hands
Flow through the night
Through the eyes and the eyes of the eyes; high
See me, see the glow in these these
See the chance
Buckets fallin’ under heavy, heavy
Drops of pure bloods truth
I’m havin’ attacks
Straight to the heart
Like a shak-a-shak-a-shak
Bare chested at the moon, OWWWW
So it’s the way that we love
It’s the get it, get it
Get it all packed in the black Jones tall
Lost souls holding out
My bodies been around
Shuffled down long gray gray walls
Penitentiary
I’ve been the guilt, the reconcile
But I’ve learned you are the shift
The give it t’me, give it t’me
Give it t’me with leftovers
Drop. You’re here
[note: best read at 91BPM]
Hidden Heather (day 806)
And if the glen should turn away
To cobbles and hurrying; death I say!
I sing still loud my songs of love
Ol’ songs I sang while as a lad
O’er the fields of hidden heather
Note: this poem is in response to William Antcliff’s poem Hidden in the Heather.
In Your Teeth (day 805)
I’ve been watching you shift the ever blurring lines that hold society in check
Taking them in your teeth and letting the camera capture your raw moments of sex
I want to understand what it’s like to plan this desire like a premeditated killer
Drinking tea over strewn socks and dirty magazines in a black and white image
I never thought I’d hold your hand walking down this hall
Penis stuck between your legs and there isn’t even any kissing
I’m not sure I understand the lines being blurred here
For they exist singularly in figments of imaginations
Directed by lines of square adults and their best intentions for children
I’ve been watching you shift the ever blurring lines that hold society in check
As you walk away veiled in a cloak of mastermind and glitter
I’m not sure the intention towards my understanding and which end is right
But this is my effort to blur my own lines of this never ending puzzle
Unintelligently (day 804)
I couldn’t have struggled through your disaster without the common knowledge that you’re batshit crazy. I mean, I knew you were batshit crazy the whole time, but it’s even more tragic when it’s unintelligently directed at me.
Honestly baby, it doesn’t look good on you, that shade of abusive humor and ill suited temper that rolls off your tongue with vigorous encouragement from your minions who are just as uneducated, particularly on the logistics of the complication that’s arisen here, as you are.
I’m not sure what part I should even attempt to understand; my innocent discussion was nitpicked like the crows at the side of the road… Did you really miss the smile about the side of my face? It hurts me when you know I’m a sensitive being and just trying to keep cool.
It’s not even logical to me! It’s like the clock struck bat shit o’clock and out came the fangs hissing because they simply smelt dinner. And I wasn’t even invited to the party in the first place!
God dammit.
Ecstasy (day 803)
Desires released
Into arms
Accepted
With Wings as Black as Night (day 802)
I knew I’d recognize you
Though you weren’t wearing your Wellingtons
It wasn’t hard to miss you for
Beaming proud was on your face
Your feet were wrapped in exotic fur
Bound by moccasins
That made your step about the grounds
Delightfully light and charmed
You wore about your head so gay
A red rose, pinned towards the back
Of your lady-hawk’s slickest moments
Black as night and long
I knew I’d offer you my arm
To waltz about to and fro
In the darkest hours
In the bright daylight
To the attention of our fancy
I’m not sure where I left you off
Or where it since began
But your sacred heart is telling me
To let mine go with wings