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Literature Text
We weep for wounds not yet born
We predict the patterns of storms long gone
Only after it's concrete, do we mourn
We live life expecting the next dawn
We ask for truth yet prefer the lies
We pity the foolish and decry the wise
We sketch blueprints for mountains we can't make
We dismay over bad and think all good is fake
To each his own, we've our selfish desires
The beauty of destruction is all too sought out
We dream for the stars, but settle for fires
We louden cacophonies to silence any doubt
So caught up in answering questions not asked yet,
We die with only one lasting regret-
We know not of who we've become.
Our mirrors are blinding, and sightless isn't fun.
We predict the patterns of storms long gone
Only after it's concrete, do we mourn
We live life expecting the next dawn
We ask for truth yet prefer the lies
We pity the foolish and decry the wise
We sketch blueprints for mountains we can't make
We dismay over bad and think all good is fake
To each his own, we've our selfish desires
The beauty of destruction is all too sought out
We dream for the stars, but settle for fires
We louden cacophonies to silence any doubt
So caught up in answering questions not asked yet,
We die with only one lasting regret-
We know not of who we've become.
Our mirrors are blinding, and sightless isn't fun.
Literature
remuneration
there were dreams of abasement, tearing up at the thought of
the noxious corners of your eyes. i saw them at a glance and fell
headfirst in the Styx, catching billowing waves of uncertainty and
heartache. they crashed with a decade-begrudged mind that was far
from healing -- far from me.
and though the fall was abrasive and the
waves, their own harangue, their heartache
and toxins faded & found graphite talismans
engraved in a red wrist warmer.
the ground that my blood decorated, with a history of broken bone
marrows now showed how unnecessary a transplant w
Literature
Amends
They tell me you're dying,
when you're not etching poetry
into glass.
Words as fragile as the surface they're written on,
not nearly as transparent, though.
Dotted between the lines like Morse-code,
concealed in true poetic verse.
If you want to know a poet,
just fall and one will rise.
The ink flows deep within the lines,
we just have to die to find it.
I see your plead.
They tell me I should make amends,
only the forgiveness you seek
doesn't come from me.
That boy is gone,
and with him
any debt you owed.
Still if it helps ease your passing
I'll say the words.
Like writing a hot check;
it'll get you by for a minute,
but in th
Literature
circumventing hearts
my frail ankles, wrists
are inversely proportional to
your broad shoulders, chest
so it goes
that
your touch, though tangential
comes at me
full-bodied, whole
whereas
your low
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So, this comes with a long description.
Every once in a while I come across a writer that just amazes me and sobers me up instantly. It does the weirdest thing where it makes me hate all my own words because I think they are never enough. All these writers have the same thing in common. They craft phrases that say one thing but mean something else entirely. They are beautiful, and cling to the tip of your tongue. You have to read it four or five times to get the full extent.
If I could write something with all the power and meaning they create in one line, I can't tell you how happy that would make me. That being said, I came across another poet like this the other night and decided I was going to try and be what I couldn't draw myself away from.
I know I'm not there yet.
But I pray one day I will be.
Critiques are greatly appreciated.
Every once in a while I come across a writer that just amazes me and sobers me up instantly. It does the weirdest thing where it makes me hate all my own words because I think they are never enough. All these writers have the same thing in common. They craft phrases that say one thing but mean something else entirely. They are beautiful, and cling to the tip of your tongue. You have to read it four or five times to get the full extent.
If I could write something with all the power and meaning they create in one line, I can't tell you how happy that would make me. That being said, I came across another poet like this the other night and decided I was going to try and be what I couldn't draw myself away from.
I know I'm not there yet.
But I pray one day I will be.
Critiques are greatly appreciated.
© 2012 - 2024 intricately-ordinary
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I love the riddle to this, yet it is simple enough to understand. This work is a masterpiece in my mind. thank you for sharing it 
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