No 5 was done with a knife
on a late spring evening
under cloudless skies
the boys
now hand in hand
became men,
innocence lost forever
evil removed this day
prayers said to the heavens
the rapist had to pay
No 5 was done with a knife
the purge unabating
I am a flower
Or at least that is what I thought you were trying to tell me yesterday when you brought up the petals and balance and the jings and the jangs and multitudes of…
Aaahhhh fuck I don’t know, I am no flower, not one with petals anyway, they’re long gone, withered away, fallen off, crumbled to dust and spread by the wind.
I am a flower, and you can make me bloom again
I paid the piper
painting pretty pictures in my head
I paid the piper
singing songs for blackened suns
I paid the piper
shutting the blinds, the taste is foul
I paid the piper
hiding under blankets of lies
I paid the piper
the ticking never stops!!!!!
I paid the piper
go just go, please f* off
I paid the piper
awaiting night fall, counting sheep
I paid the piper
but dare not call the tune
knock on my door
ring my bell twice
my legs are old
I will not make haste
unlocking the gates of hades
There will be questions
and answers three
Once: begone and come with me
Twice: return to the forest of free
Thrise: find Dusty the magic rabbit, Riemann, and the Zeta function
If answers be of the unsatisfactory kind
your soul too pure for this world no doubt
So I bid you farewell
and happy trails
Come back when ready for your soul
to escape
.
.
Prompted by a @maxmundan: Too pure for this world
To be…
or not to be… regarded
a choice I make consciously,
by glancing at you reveals
your perception of me,
by not looking I nothing see
thus remain free from anxiety
no judgement there
no peril lurking
temptation does not stick
on eyes shut and mind adrift
I sometimes forget myself and
wonder what You might think of me
then catch myself in thinking
and revert back to safety in that
I would always
rather not know
Prompted by a @poetryriot prompt: I would always rather not know
Within my grasp // joyous mishaps // begone you fickle mind outstretched // tripping up the merry dance // begone the darkness that roams my heart // begone the gray chains of day // as moon arise on starlit sky // begone my fears begone
I stuffed my belongings into into the suitcase
You were still asleep
Nicotine yellow fingers
Heart in overdrive fron latenight drinks
Your friend’s curly hair showing
I knew this was the end
But kept the ring just in case
I turned my back and left
The suitcase by my side
Wishing things
Would turn out
all right
By all
Prompted by a @maxmundan prompt: open and shut case
You can’t say you understand
Summer
Until you’ve seen the sun setting
Then change its mind
To rise again
Above the
Artic circle
I carefully removed the excess energy from the water, now solid to the touch. I placed it carefully in a container made of melted sand from the outer reaches of the Everground. Poured equal measures of potato based liquid and squashed up fruit. Then added insurmountable measures of water until the container was full. I watched the concoction settle, the fumes barely noticeable. The smell was pleasant, I the taste not so. Why is lack of fizz such a downer, how to make it decent? I don’t know
I suck at most things
But I’d suck your lips
Until you scream
Stop
I’d stop briefly
To smile
Then ignore your pleads
Until you die
