a seasonal & good intention of a friend
to promote my writing ambition
providing another means to pen my intimate thoughts to paper
this night though I can only see an open casket
a celebration of that which could have been …
without tears shed —
the ink stains
With every passing night, the king-sized bed I inhabit grows; in length & in width & the icicles therein extend beyond the frame of endeavours of possibilities.
With every passing drop of blood, the bottles I reflect in shrinks; in size & contents & the source of all that is becomes less the matter of fact than the truth of dreams.
With every passing remark I choose to silently suppress; the not said and thus unspoken: oh the blessed, the blessed words of silence lingering: begone you fickle being; begone and stay gone
My words are stewing, words left rotting in a laundromat without coins; without value and time to dry To the core and beyond I compare me; me to thee and failure is all I perceive Nothingness will change into something-or-otherness & I will grow Grow beyond the words, the failure and the nothing which I am I bleed without shame of words & emptiness
2020 poetry blog train!
Every once in awhile it’s good to start a new blog train because a lot of accounts tend to go inactive or deactivate and we gotta stay up to date!
If you’re a poetry blog or a blog that reblogs/posts a lot of poetry, like & reblog this post so that others can find you and the work that you share!
I no longer regard this a poetry blog… I write, arrange letters into words, sentences if you arrange them further… I am not expecting much & therefore I do not receive as such, but when I do I live for another day; safe in the knowledge that I am not alone in this world
For the purpose of my sanity I do wish to express: my love for you I did possess, but somehow I forget… Forget, forgot to make it clear: to make the point, the point, the point was not as such particularly clear. I regret the lack of expression: of the love I did not convey. No doubt you did not notice me, as only silence lingered there. But now when all will never be told I do wish it to be said: that all I ever wanted was the you my heart held dear. So for the purpose of my sanity I hope I have made it clear: I once did love and that love was yours, & thus: it has been said
It was that time of year; of snow and hailstorm and abandoned tears, it was around the time you opened your mouth; no, not the yawning at the corner of Runnymede and Dundas, I found a growing sense of purpose just then and there; an awesome urge to stalk to follow to never let go I was found wanting -- forevermore
Once upon a time I found a beautiful mind One I could relate to If not so much such to its brilliance But through its struggles I found a kin-ness & now await my time to realise that all this is fiction and a mere result of the figety imagination of my -- broken mind
The reflection in one bauble is Different to the others, I see the truth of that which is the me; the essence of bleeding: Red baubles dreaming of the New year & another world Altogether
I sometimes confuse myself Imagining being you Having someone close Being more than naught I sometimes confuse the self Imagining teetering on the brink Having a place to escape Being boundless & bouncing I sometimes confuse Imagining a self Having a personality & Being
