Poetry Promises

A year later  Hidden little artifacts always looking for them  In the starry night skies  all too small and all too big  A city of red dust  A temple to his wife  A fight to spark a fire for the night I’m sorry i’m so tired and not so light  What a sight the light…

The leaves fall like decomposing bodies  Eyes on her sister  A shadow lures her to swallow her scream  Convincing her to see how small it’ll vibrate in her stomach   synoptic starvation suppresses her hunger  Under a stream of weed  The other is headed for the water  There’s no starry streams  Eyes on her sister  Her…

A thousand poems… I could try to write my own  But to me they’d all sound the same, with different times and tones.  Perhaps none of them could catch me  Or the words Ive tried to untangle… But  I’ll tell you  I saw them in the trees once,  Heard them in the birds songs,  In…

I looked into her eyes today  She told me I’d be okay  That just because I couldn’t feel the wind anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t there So I went outside I took a deep breath and I asked the sky to make me a picture in the clouds  I gave away my time waiting   when…

I’ve tangled myself into words for years I used to not fold the pages of my books I’d keep them neat, untouched and perfectly pressed But I grew in a world where my corners were folded My body was marked and my soul was wearing So now when I hold a piece of a story…

All jokes  Lines messy, scribbled on a small paper,  The words coming together making a paper crane  flying in range of a heart in the midst of a war. The last note sounds like an old record,  The one we danced to with laughter  Transmuting the dust we let build on the fireplaces fold  Every…

I pulled out a poetry book, One with flowers on the cover, I hoped for inspiration, My thirst unquenchable, Your shadows not even present, And still nothing came, So I tried to concede to the writer.

You must of seen it from there  My mom said she met Nirvana in the grunge age,  I wonder if she knew she’d have a daughter the same, He became a design, a profit to sell souls  She used to be in love with her best friend  Talks about the old times like they were…

A house party, Lola is sobbing in the corner, someone has the code to denote our home, I heard it whispered in and out of your zones, It’s already been concieved, we can not abort, you ask her “can we write what has already been written?” The sacrificial goat is hard to hug, If you…