May 2012
1 post
A single face, a double smile.
It tells a grim tale, often and again.
Forever the center, whichever and when.
Switching gears can last a mile.
Open curtains and shutters, an empty bed.
Gossips of silence, contributions from the dead.
A beating heart, made stronger by chains.
When the lock opens, I summon the rains.
March 2012
0 posts
The docile fall, the watchful rise.
The current calm, simply the eye.
A storm surrounds, yet none can see.
Driven to false hopes and beliefs.
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No one man, no woman or child.
No shadowy puppets, not a thing of pride.
Simply the rumblings, always tumbling.
Down a slope of slippery sorts.
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An ending we hope.
But to what, fair or poor?
January 2012
1 post
She dances a step, a note on her breath.
The smile and grin, a lonely race to win.
Made to follow, made to stay, the game is played unfairly well today.
Keep the course, eye on the end.
Whatever the action, remember the trend.
November 2011
2 posts
A type of simple sighs.
A gorgeous enjoyment.
While ripe, the ego bright.
At the peak, the bane to night.
backstory
Dressing a storm with fire, this is a tale of woes.
Not for the story, for that brings wisdom and thought.
But for the fork in the road, the path erodes.
I show you the beginnings, do mind the rot.
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We begin with a gentle talk, an idle banter of sorts.
A laugh and a smile, an echo deep in the heart.
An unwinding of chains, a changing of courts.
What idle words made new, a growing start.
...
October 2011
6 posts
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
Then wait more than seven years and at least you’ll be in good company.
The time is right, the apple ripe.
A moment to change, a shift in blame.
The burden is mine, the results are yours.
A crimson tear, a fragile door.
The mighty approach a point where they can no longer hide from the weak.
2 tags
Look your betrayer in the eye.
Grant him his peace, born from a lie.
A field of green, a field of blue.
Always waiting, always you.
September 2011
6 posts
Let’s begin again, just you and me.
We’ll sail to stars and distant galaxies.
We’ll climb over obstacles and leave the bad behind.
Let’s live for us, not for them.
Let’s make our concert heard from Mars.
We’ll never let the circle break.
No longer lost, but found.
In tumultuous storm, quieted by a smile.
Lost and broken dream, whole at last.
Yet a winter approach, welcoming hands.
Keep the eyes upward, the choice is clear.
Clearly you, forever, an eternity of honesty.
Audiovisual
Speak a dream, of song and stream.
A miracle mile, a grin’s a smile.
An obvious word, those written before.
As well as those and so on and so forth.
The shadow’s gaze, under written word.
Lyrical verb, written as verse.
Careful measure, with precious sound.
The beat, the drum, the tune is found.
Truly the blind leading the blind.
A drop of memory, in distant song.
A glance of waves, of tears and hopes.
A rolling echo, a grass of green.
Someone lost, found, forgotten and gone.
August 2011
2 posts
By day the melody, by night the verse.
I am proud of you. Yes, you.
July 2011
5 posts
I was going to write a poem here but sometimes your words only belong to yourself.
A Fragile Thought
A marvelous future, a majestic sound.
A crashing of waves, an innocent drowned.
Too short of it all, too frail to bear will.
A crossing of kingdoms, of prophet and quill.
June 2011
5 posts
Does one explore their consciousness, or do we journey with consciousness itself?
What is happening, to the world?
Tumblr!
A tiny game, a frustration’s wait.
No more the scholar or poet.
A loss and more, a way to pass the days.
Driven as if driven, having known.
Said the man who was given a pebble, “I appreciate the sediment, but…”
May 2011
4 posts
A friend to all, you claim with a smile.
Climbing the ranks of society at the cost of the wilds.
No poet or bard, yet threaten and stare.
A gruesome gossip when given air.
It is not rain, but that we frighten the sun.
A hopeless annoyance, a trivial soul.
Driven to madness, despair and withdrawal.
A tortured breathing of purely air, a breeze of fire and agony and fear.
What do we name if not a mirror?
An echo of lies, this wandering sphere.
A guilty sentence was a thing to avoid, typically.
But what if the innocent are the imprisoned? The guilty, the prosecution?
A society of dreams made whole, an ecological wonder, a marvel at microscopic proportions.
A dystopian flock, waking to the call of another.
April 2011
8 posts
Without music, I would perish.
Without words, the mind echoes.
Without voice, I follow.
Distractions hold themselves.
A chance leapt for, a risk given
A note of brass and colorful tune.
A whirlwind of wood, the smashing of a skin.
A baton without flair. A direction of will.
The arms go up, the music leads.
Consplosion — When your mind schedules multiple tasks for a body of one.
An editor, a censor, a promise of chains.
A forgotten kingdom, this telling of friends.
A love, a rage, a cold delay.
An echo of memory, a distant thought.
Look, listen, and learn. Remember not.
Clever one, eyes full of dreams.
Unmatched, a regretful stare, a spade of dust.
A change, begun and begot.
Of insanity, crystal forgotten.
…and you shall become a rock upon a bed of pebbles.
A stone in the way, a door barring adventure.
A path, a lake, a drowning of sorrows.
A belonging, a strange welcome.
You, entirety.
The song, the siren, the pull of dreams.
You listen, you hope, you feel the call.
You lie, you steal, you cheat to win.
You become the vision, the haze.
The chips, the fall, the want.
You, the every, the none.
Gentle dear one, cautious rot.
You stare at us, we dare to defy.
A tumbling down, a playwright’s tale.
A bard, a tale begun anew.
Societal lapse to the gain of all.
March 2011
7 posts
A beat, a lyric, a verse of sound.
A break in the void, the silent grin.
You, yourself, the core.
The each and every, the many and few.
Riddles and games, a lie of times.
A joke, forgotten and unfinished.
An echo, finality, and no more.
He tore the heart of the land to his will, lured by false and empty promises.
Like fools and clowns, we followed and danced.
Puppets, suspended above a land forgotten.
History and its habits are funny things.
Consider then, a Revolution.
An awakening of the frustrated, of the poor.
A book, a quote, a page.
Torn, a memory, a proud echo.
You stand at the edge, and dive.
No one dies from a fall.
It’s the impact, the thunderous rush of two entities connecting.
Of death and tragedy.
Of comedic poetry.
Of prose.
You wear the red, the black and dead.
You fly through the air with grace, but with no point.
Before you stand thousands, yet they fall.
You are as a sunrise, a devilish daily inferno.
A black scar on white purity.
Perfection abound, none as you.
You exist to oppose, to riot and rage.
You are the anti, the negative, the con before pro.
The word, the thought, the feel.
A memory of poems...
Let your happiness define others.
War of attrition, war of ambition.
Waging once, twice, a mission with no end.
You look upon your final result, and see ruin.
You see despair. Agony. Destruction.
I see a game. You have lost.
ProjectImperfect: The Scroobious Pip by Edward... →
The Scroobious Pip went out one day When the grass was green, and the sky was grey. Then all the beasts in the world came round When the Scroobious Pip sat down on the ground. The cat and the dog and the kangaroo The sheep and the cow and the guineapig too— The wolf he howled, the horse he…
February 2011
1 post
Be alone, be afraid.
Be yourself, be a friend.
Be the center, be the edge.
Be the blade, be the shield.
Be the singular and the plural.
Be the one and the all.
Be the subatomic and the intergalactic.
Be.
December 2010
6 posts
Those who dwell on the past often miss the future.