Tag Archives: beauty


prose or poems.

o’holy find love!

move toward a goal.

what was that she said?

stop now.

maybe not.



drugs. drugs. drugs.

stop now.

what did I say to you?

I miss the mother and son who sat behind me, my seatmate, the comfort.

No one makes noise from Roc to Cuse. The Lady who took my seat eats

crackers quietly and rubs her finger tips in the aisle. She flips vanity fair reading

the ads and plows another cracker into her beaked face.

15 minutes till noon, when I’ll allow myself to start drinking the booze I brought along in my bag.

9-10 more hours until Boston. I bought the ticket, I’ll take the ride.

she refuses to

hold conversation. I hope

they sell bottled wine.

All stops went quick, hoping to get into Boston early. Slept from Albany to  Schenectady.

Too many hits of tequila in the bathroom. Just left Springfield, headed toward Wooster.

Had noodles and coffee to burn off some liquor. Both were terrible.

Dinner lady, forty something, black and from Chicago.

Hope to find a sandwich shop in Portsmouth and a good coffee and maybe flowers.

I want time to sit and enjoy a Marlboro.


Filed under sangretti

Flower Girl

A daisy among flowers, a sapphire among gems

So ambient so alone yet so liberating to the eyes, nose and ears

A smell, a glance, a sound, so distinct and resonating deep within the bowels of my being

A woman, not just any woman either the one that contrasts to all others

The x factor, the right stuff, an energy that is warm yet so reclusive

A star that shoots in the bright atmosphere, while all others are in complacent stare

Gravity itself to me has no bottom, cosmic yet so instant without reason or rhyme

My soul floats when it’s around you, so featherlike and boundless it seems when you endear my axis

I’m completely off balanced, time stricken, and perplexed

But with every night, comes morning and every step, comes direction

Mysteries unravel and words are spoken through our mouths and through our minds

Pour out raw unadulterated emotion that I cannot control

But I must, otherwise the joy will dissipate

Good things can die with even the smallest of whispers

I therefore will shutter myself for the sake of beauty itself

And hold it to the sacred vessel my being


Filed under J.L.Wanderer

This is She

Freedom tastes like cigarette smoke and reeks of booze.

Freedom is a fine woman who has fallen prey to society’s constant change.

Freedom is not the same as how it use to be.


Filed under cireryohei

Refrigerator Magnet Poems: 2



by | February 20, 2013 · 1:35 pm

Sparrow: Three

“I love the sound of the engine,

coursing its path through the night.

and with the sights of the w0rld all around us,

I can’t seem to believe it’s all chance”

said the Hawk,

“the journey of the road,

chasing the sun,

forgiving the moon.”

Up a little too late,

with a little too much wine in his stomach

and having smoked a little too much of his bag.

“But when I see such simple beauty,

a child on a swing,

a girl walking with purpose,

I notice the patterns in watching for reas0n.

It’s getting hard to live.”

“It’s not enough to notice and enjoy,”

said the Sparrow,

“but you must also take part and be destroyed.”


Filed under sangretti

Tanka: 17

Cold sweat, hidden here,

I’m not sure I’ll make it there.

But with the sun bright,

and with the wind at my back,

I think I’ll take to the road.


Filed under sangretti


Maybe it was all of those eloquent and intricately designed tattoos on her slender body.
Maybe it was the way she wore her amber hair;
Barely styled, half of it pulled up, half of it flowing elegantly down to the small of her back; right above that fine ass of hers.
It could have been the way she spoke;
Vocabulary as if she were a Stanford graduate, yet there was that splash of vulgarity that was somehow so damn attractive.
Her style was her own, simple as that.
Sneakers, but she had those nice pair of brown boots hidden in her closet, too.
She just didn’t try too hard to impress, unlike the majority of these bimbos that prance around this tiresome town.
She didn’t wear sunglasses when it was dark.
She was true. She was her.
The level of admiration for her was out of this world.
I wouldn’t expect a single person to understand these thoughts.
But I just wanted to light one up right there.
Mosey outside and watch her slowly follow me, just to catch a buzz.
And so it begins.
I admire her.


Filed under Willow Hutton

I Could Not Decide On A Title: Pt. 2

Muse: writing.

Creativity: sparking.

Where have all the good words gone?


Does a great poem come from witty lines and sudden breaks: creating rhythm?


Does a true poem form from,

The dawn on dewy mastheads,

Navigating pretty landscapes,

And showing the world exactly where,

The man met the road so long ago?


Or does it contain

Itself within syllables

Slowing being said

Rising in beauty: the sun

Setting in contempt: the moon


Are we too contained?

Hiding natural talent,

Scared of what might be?


Late night lullabies,

keep me awake at night.

O’Holy: let me sleep.


Filed under sangretti

I Don’t Even Know You

i dont know who you

are, i like you sincerely,

birds together as

one, team made informally,

thanks willow coordinately!

memo: I appreciate you liking my writings and I like yours as well. Although we may not know each other, us birds fly strong. Basically I’m saying, even if I am more recent than you, this blog is a great thing, but you already knew. Keep voicing your opinion and let everyone know, the birds will continue to put on a good show! Thanks to Willow Hutton!


ALSO: A thanks to all you bloggers who sit there and read, and like the thoughts of which we create. It’s really great to have people that care, so again thank you from all of us here!!!


Filed under aptenodyte, cireryohei, MESS, Mo, Mr. Stacker, sangretti, Willow Hutton

This Person I Know

to this very day,

i can absolutely say,

this person i know,

will perpetually show,

how fucked humanity is


Filed under aptenodyte