Tag Archives: my poetry

Churning Cross


When the throat is straitened 

and each weeze a corrosive churn.

My eyelashes become mallets 

Pegging my sight down.

In ground.

Every raspy word lifts

Like steam in your cauldron 

Boiling and reacting and

Unhurting

The only way we can to ourselves.
We’ll collect the remains 

And archive the strains

But my mind will forget

As my body witholds.
And my brain will smile

At new seasons

And trends.

Forget the old, forget the current.

The future is definite so hold it 

Precious.

Even though my breath can’t catch

Up. And I’ll still lie.

I’ll still lie.

I’ll still lie.

Advertisements

Pushing Decades


Reaching the quarter.

The century references dig 

in its depth is death.

No lights and abundance 

of noise.

We reached a pair of decades and

rushed for more.

Hated you.

Hated the past you.

Hated the you of now.

And hate the you in death.

Nothing makes you an angel.

Mold and plasma till

memories give you heart and smile.
Depth of the grave.

Depth of your human self.

Goodbye worthless 

And captureless

And ageless

you. Goodbye.

Changing Wrongs

‚Äč

Hate how it’ll change for you and for you and even you too. I’d 

do it. 

Again and again and again.

but this is expandable 

this is tissue 

this is just. Only not just.

this is talking over the head

this is words gone missing

this is me.

And this me is tired 

or calendars that mess up

and groups that add up to

Spinning ideas and

lame humans

that pay too much for a human like face 

and socially accepted manners.

This me says delete the days and

bring back the halls 

of honest home.
~bH374
(On a brighter side note: The picture I’ve added to this post is from my trip to Chatsworth House yesterday. So very amazing.)