Words of varying strengths fucking and punching one another, lighting cigarettes and putting on coats. All creating shadows that we call poems with a queer read on them.
Sandwiched between regret and some kind of love Where the layered leaves of autumn fall The damp stars all glide over such a mouldy moon And our ships were christened by the naked man- called Salvation Our Wisdom was king and we heard the sirens string section Yet we did not know where we could go that day We just merely sat there with frozen limbs and fortune was plagued by Nemesis Who could we seek underneath that mouldy moon Who would paint us as we sacrificed that which we held excellent and new Between that which we chased and that which we could not believe in The arrows within our compasses all pointed upward against our pockets And the string section was played backwards as the soft skin changed colour in the heat and light But the rules had been written by Salvation and the granite had been carved The dreams had been lost to night and no one could remember The knives were as silent as the saints, the angels were loud as they fell to the water As they rolled i...
Sunshine on stone Take me to the olive trees On the hill Watch the boats Come one by one Turning the sky inside out Draw a lion in the dust A wolf in the cloud The coolness of the grass The warmth of your stomach The falcon overhead Distant voices The boys swimming Old ladies yelling at lonely girls Hear the song of history calling Shirt hanging over branch Summer sweat The mainland coast Blue and Grey and Green Golden song of ancient instinct Power Strength Breathing in air The scent of pine Sex and sea On a hill high Sunshine on skin The song of history calling
I walked into the room while thinking of our little story I should have written it down If only on my stain covered sleeve I should have turned it into a song And whistled it to the wind You seemed to have it transcribed onto a look An expression close to criminal intent A cross between lust and hate and docile integrity It's a joke I suppose, left out to sprout in the sun There was a way I could have left Yet no way out but through that door Its like trying to understand why a smell reminds you of love Why a certain pair of eyes reminded you of night Is it cruel to give someone else Your love? It was built for You, it has Your dedication written on the title page But You shall not receive The lost mention of the peppermint grind Your eyes were so dark all I could see were the reflections of the street lamps It will be your story I carry Though I know someone else will get to hear the ending I was just the start Though I did give you courage To walk through th...
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