Posts
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Selfish
Death is a homeless cat
Sleeping outside your door- hesitantly
Prowling on the porch, while
Searching for its ultimate owner.
It begs for leftovers,
Mewling in desperation -
Money pit heart
If I gave you the keys
Would you settle down in my money pit heart?
She’s a fixer-upper,
But you always loved the feeling of a hammer.
Together we’ll work these calloused hands –
Compose a home fit for the two of us. -
“You looked depressed with that slouched posture.”
When I straightened my posture-
Creating (and becoming) a statue as
The pinnacle of impeccable posture-
It seemed to be that I no longer
Held this deep-seated weight
On my once infamously slouched -
Episodes
A young-minded puppy that is full-grown
Bumping into the coffee tables
Knocking off picture frames and wine bottles
Unknowing of the damage
Until she steps on the glass
And the blood leaks from her paws -
leaking epics
I.
The crack in my ceiling idly opens to let Calypso’s
clueless hands reach for my body like a rag doll.
I’m handled with care despite my bedrock mold. -
A Request
"I do not wish to escape to myself, I wish to escape from myself."
- Allen Ginsberg (Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg: The Letters)
do not dwell on my life.
when death licks
the last reminiscence
Loves
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Who Is Autumn?
Autumn is a woman with a top hat and golden eyes atop a horse as dark as night.
Autumn is the auburn hills glowing in the light of the harvest moon.
Autumn is the pumpkins and the squash and the nostalgia.
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Hood Rats: A collection of Poetry- About 5 PM
5 pm
Is a time of day where it's not quite night yet.
Some would say, The day is young.
Others would argue, the day is over.
They will get in their cars and drive home to their families.
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Better Things
autumn leaves, they
fall to the pine-bathed
soil, and my heart falls
with them, and I think it's burning
too, burning too, for all it takes
is one glance into your
amber eyes, september sight, and
you've got my -
The Artist of Fall
When night awakes sooner,
and the stars become brighter,
Fall descends onto the land.
Soon enough, winter will bring its false sand,
until then, the leaves paint the sky-
as the trees and wind begin to sigh.
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New Polaroids
Amber leaves cling
To umber trees reaching
Frayed roots deep into the ground.
They've told you time
And time again, "autumn is the season
Of the dead.
Green leaves rusting, flowers
Dusting over till the pink -
Spooky Season
When the air is crisp,
with a chilly breeze,
fall puts a spell on me.
The leaves fall in a wisp,
as an artist weaves-
a portrait of the fiery sea.
Though, it’s not February,
love seeps through the air.