Tag Archives: part of a whole

Bird Murder (1)

“It would take some getting use to, or in this case it would have to be the object of my affection.”
I relied on what anyone else would and I forgot that I was catchy, that I was me, an unforgettable person with a heart made of pure sadness because when you love someone you cry. I’m that guy, I’m the letter Z, from here on out consider me last but most important. I won’t tie any of this together, I’ll let you be the bird that can’t fly, and anyone who doesn’t think that birds have lives sure should get a parrot and train it. I think the BIRDS know what man doesn’t, in case it doesn’t click, the whole bark up this tree came from me wondering if birds actually murder each other. Same type same size ordeal, we know the eagle is a predator.
The lines from your editor…it doesn’t matter right now if you think a bird will murder.
The bird that can fly will escape his own death,
If that Bird flies at all.
Bird Murder

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to words not written (1-3)

this is a poem.

this is a – i’ve been up all night kind of poem.

this is the type of poem people who ate too much speed like kind of poem.

this is a i’m living each day like a new king of a poem.

i’ve been doing what I want, each day, kind of,

waking up dry mouthed and wide awake,

slipping in the hall,

knocking on the hall,

listening to the wall,

kind of poem.

 

this is the type of poem you write when you want to write, type of poem.

this is the type of, days turning to night, into days, type of poem.

hoping for something new, seeing everyone new,

everyone the same, type of poem.

this is a home for holiday, seeing old friends – kindergarten best friends – ordering ice cream for his mom at a gas station kind of poem.

it’s a i’ve wanted to be an off track better my whole life kind of poem

this is a no one man you know is happy with where he is type of poem,

and no one man will be, kind of poem.

 

this is a Blakean – i’ve feared these visions, my innocence vs. my experience.

you walked along the fallen rocks and kicked mud, we all kick mud kind of poem.

a “i’ve taken to long trying to write a poem” type of poem.

the type of poem you write when you should have tried prose,

maybe try to explain your ideas better, maybe try and get better ideas.

shorter sentences length, that one is a run on, do you check your grammar, have you proofed this,

type of poem.

this is a, “i’ll come back and work some more on this one” type of poem.

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ode to o’holy (a work in progress, of which there are many)

and there are things in this world,

things I’ve forgot.

like this.

and things I remember,

like that.

I’ve wandered nights,

long and alone,

of which there are many.

and heard songs through our collective ears,

stoned and wired,

mouths talking for the sake of talking.

and talking,

talking, talking,

and listening,

listening, listening.

Through nights and days and nights and days.

WE discovered the reasons of life through the moonlights and smoke.

WE discovered the path of the sun through cars and the road.

and WE watched the road unwind beneath us,

the Earth spin beneath us,

pain beneath us.

Joy beneath us.

Life,

beneath us.

Life,

above us.

WE in the middle,

understatements.

Understanding.

Misconstruing reasoning for truth,

and finding truth was never at the bottom of the bottle.

———-

If I’m lucky, I’ll be posting a further completed version of “o’holy” from the one posted 11.07.12 sometime soon.

This is an Ode to that, in the sense that its completion will come with the finalization of both works.

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