Tag Archives: song

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.

Storied Stormy Nights

Hello again, all! Back from my vacation, I have a little poem for you all that I enjoyed writing very much. Imagine yourself on the deck of a ship, you and your shipmates, hardened sailors one and all. The sails start to flap and wood starts to creak as dark clouds draw overhead. Rain pours over you, washing away the the salt and sweat so forcefully from your brow as lightning can be spotted in the distance. The captain screams his orders over the roar of the wind and the seas, attempting to regain control of the rigging. Amidst the cacophony you start to hear a beautiful song. Drawn to it, you and your brethren sail towards the rocks. A song that beautiful… Surely there aren’t any rocks?

Ballad of Sirens

O’ that cape of forlorn hope,

I sail around the bend.

I hope to find on other shores

a beach on which to mend

that poison heart and all its open sores.

Sailors find their sirens

there upon the rocks,

a place where ships will come to break and crash.

Beautiful their voices,

and so too are their faces,

so beautiful in fact

that sailors won’t notice

how their heartbeat quickly hastens.

Is it fear, perhaps?

Rightful to so fear the siren, yes,

but perhaps that song they sing,

that pretty one that lingers in your ears,

perhaps there is some truth to it

and closer to the siren’s heart the sailor nears.

There I lie,

crushed and broken on the rocks,

comforted by those deep blue eyes,

color of the sea I’ve grown to love,

belonging to the face

of one graceful little dove.

I know I’ll not survive the night,

I’ve not had enough adventures,

or been enough places,

but to die with you will mean eternity,

to find again Elysium one final time.

To hold you in that orchard,

my forever love.