Poetry dump

Me: you should set up a writing blog and post all the time!!
Me at me: or you could set up a writing blog and promptly forget about it…

This is late and I’d apologise, but honestly if you know me at all you’d know that leaving things till the last minute is my special talent. I should probably just set a reminder on my phone so I actually, like, remember to post here. Ah well. Probably won’t.

Anyway! I’ve got some poetry from a poetry topic I took last semester so, go ahead and read it if you want. Or don’t. You can make your own decisions. Unless you live in North Korea, I guess.


flowers on walls

all the feelings stuck inside of your head
they’re ready to break free by any means
stay very still, do not get out of bed
or your skin will pull apart at the seams
it’s warm and chilly and hot and freezing
anxieties trickle into your lungs
the open window lets the warm breeze in
you absorb others’ sadness like a sponge
does the beating ever stop to take breath
is there anything you can do to help
you see ahead the peace, the warmth of death
see white light (cliche) hear your old dog yelp

the madness rises, all the pain will fall
internal organs paint flowers on walls


broken brain fantasy

i get these visions in my head:
my skull is open, a clean line
circling my exposed, grey-pink brain
and, nestled in folds and creases —

— burnt pieces of a once good mind
i see myself calmly reach up
i shiver at the first touch of
cold, slimy exposed brain matter

my fingers slowly excavate
all the broken little pieces
and leave behind a me that works
my thin white hands close my skull shut

thick red scar across my forehead
i can really see myself now
how i should be, a real person
who understands how to just be.

 

i know it’s unrealistic;
not how neurosurgery works;
but it’s my little fantasy
that i see all the fucking time


Passing

‘Death must be so beautiful.’

peaceful solitary emptiness
a kind of quiet unfound
wished for, hoped for, the loneliness
practiced in dreams that end unwound

‘To lie in soft brown earth,’

warm and forgiving of all you did
ignoring your rights and wrongs
accepting all who are given to it
welcomed into a life you have longed

‘with grasses waving above one’s head,’

dancing to the music of the wind
holding the secrets of everyone past
keeping you warm, tucking you in,
and you are able to sleep at last

‘and listen to silence.’

a different kind of beautiful song
written by the beat of feet overhead
trickling forever slowly along
never quite getting stuck in your head

‘To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow.’

no wants, no needs, no happiness or relief
no wishes or dreams or goals or desires
no nightmares, fears, terrors, grief
no heat, no cold, no ice, no fire

‘To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace.’

forgotten memories lay you to rest;
you settle in and sleep your best.


Thank you Oscar Wilde for giving me inspiration & words for the last one. I’ll try and post again soon. “Soon”.