I remember:
the silence of pens
and the ruffling of paper
and the echoes of the corridor
and the hugs and plans
and all this because of
one word:
Hometime.
WATCHING
He says he is dead.
He says this matter of factly without any emotion.
He says that I should I know why.
He says this to me without moving his lips.
He says he is dead.
He says this in a voice that is bigger than me and him.
He says that he beginning to forgive me but he’ll never understand.
He says this as I’m walking down the street, as I’m watching a movie, as I’m driving my car.
He says he is dead.
He says this as I’m sitting in the office sipping a cup of tea.
He says all of this to me.
He says all he wants to know is why I refuse to believe him.
GORGEOUS
Billet this:
we are
under the
sun lips
open craving
artificial highs
painted in
red averted
eyes missing
the stare as
arms fold
open again
and again
and again
posted by paradigm at 10:19 PM
4 Comments:
Paradigm, "Gorgeous" is exactly that. How beautiful. And I like "Watching" very much too... it would make a really cool performance piece, I think.
Have you been writing long? You've got a lovely, lovely style.
mizu, i've been writing for roughly five years. although all these poems are from the last six months. up until then i used to write more angsty, hermetic poems. now i've started to move from outside my own head and problems. they still come from a personal p.o.v but the meaning is now much more universal then those other ones.
thanks so so so much dennis. you're admiration means so much.
watching is spookily great.. more!
you star!! god these are fantastic, i just love them!! (but you know that already!!)
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