Tag Archives: song

Entombed

Good afternoon, everybody! I’ve got another little piece today. Something sadder than the last one. Without further ado, please enjoy.

Entombed

The writing, my dear.

Scrawled there on the wall;

can you see it?

Those old runes…

What could they mean, my darling?

Chicken-scratch, sure.

But what if?

What if there is something to them?

What if it’s about us?

What if it means something?

All of it.

Can you read it?

Interpret for me the symbols of antiquity?

You always were smarter than me.

I am confused.

Something you’re all too familiar with.

It made me angry before.

Now?

A hollow sadness.

Memories and dreams reverberate through old and decrepit halls.

Could you…

Could you help me remember?

What am I doing here?

Where was I going?

Who are you?

Who…

Who am I?

Spiders Dare Not Spin Their Webs

It’s a rainy day today. I hope everyone is staying warm and dry. One hell of a season, this winter. One minute cold, next minute less cold but also wet. When will I be able to wear one outfit the whole day without changing? No one may know. Without further ado, please enjoy.

Spiders Dare Not Spin Their Webs

Teardrops fall

on an aged turntable,

one that creaks and winces

at every drop.

Once upon a time,

its exquisite design

and joyous notes

filled halls with envious glances

and raucous applause.

Gilded then,

much like the age,

in silver and gold

now tarnished and old.

Like porcelain and glass,

now precious vinyl degrades

as its uses and users too fade.

I remain by its side,

this sweet and beautiful turntable,

until the drips form stalactites

and I myself subside.

Laisse-moi t’aimer!

Good afternoon, everybody. C’est moi! It’s been a little while since my last post, but I actually have a little song I wrote today. None of you rat bastards are going to hear my sing it, mind you (except one). Just imagine it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard and then tone that down by about three notches. If any of you would like to grace me with your patronage, do not forget there are donation links on my home page. Whether you give or not though, thank you to everyone who visits my website and enjoys my writing. It really means the world to me. Without further ado…

Just Hope That You Know It

Imagine just sailing away,

having nothing to say.

I love the way that you sway

at the end of the day.

You’re like the rays of the sun

filling my chest up a ton.

It’s so hard to tell you this, hun’

but just know i love you

and i think i won.

Seeing my reflection in your eyes

makes me forget all the lies

that everyone else told

and filled me with all sighs.

Perhaps I’m not sure if it’s wise

to keep all my love in your eyes

but theres nothing that stops me

when you are the prize.

I’ll never stop thinking of all the ways you try.

My heart is so open

and i want to show it

by letting you in and letting you know it.

Trying to water and letting you grow it.

I look at you and just hope that you know it.

Esoteric Ablutions

Hiding, secretly, covertly under the stairs, you think of ways to wash yourself. Sitting there, on a dusty mattress, pondering your cleanliness. No matter how many times you wash your hands… How can you be sure? Please enjoy the poem, friends.

Interregnum

Peridot and periwinkle,

pox and pax romana,

pleat and pedigrees,

all words that come to mind

and rest within that little wrinkle.

I do so miss

feeling that feeling,

the one I knew

could never last.

Perhaps you’d like to study

that peculiar way a heart shatters,

how the impact velocity

and momentum

change the shape of shards.

Maybe then you’ll find

what it is you’re looking for.

It’s funny,

in that funny little way

that things always are,

the way I know.

You think I don’t hate the way my mind works?

The way it bends and twists

and flexes and breaks,

over and over and over again,

spiraling down into the abyss,

locked forever

in phantasmic bliss.

Fleeting and illusory.

Perhaps two words

that in practice

would be found contradictory,

for how can a thing be fleeting

when it didn’t exist in the first place?

To be loved

is surely so

to be lost as well

upstream

without a paddle

heading towards the falls,

only there is no river down below,

but blackness

stretching down and down.

Throw a rock

and you’ll never hear the sound.

Feeling Sick But Doing Fine

Good morning, everyone! The poem today is one of my favorites from the past couple weeks. The way it comes together is like a forlorn love letter, brimming with nostalgia and pain. It twisted my heart to write it. I only hope it helps you feel too. Without further ado, I bring to you…

Munchausens – An Eleven Letter Word

Do your eyes grace the pages

that fill beneath my pen,

every inkblot a kiss,

every stroke a love letter,

just for you, my dear?

~

Does your mind wander

on over to me

where I fill your head

with lovely and sweet things,

always bringing back

my amnesiac?

~

Alas, my love,

these starry eyes,

in all their seeming candor,

bely that feeling most unkind.

~

And then you see

these tired eyes

and their bags of lies

Filled all to the brim with flies.

~

To feel rotten inside,

a feeling most sour

and nigh unfairly dour,

it eats at the psyche,

the ego its bread

and the id its cheese.

~

It makes a man unwholly holy,

and perhaps leaves him feeling wholly unholy

with but a sprinkling of that reminder

of being wholly unwhole.