Again
DopeBeastie
Posts: 2,513
Why the skin of a soft tan glows orange under slow light
where the heavens soft and blow on everything unsaid
The molassesies, the tiny aching, its bell pipe, the shine
It never wonders how not to, burning something in the way
but keeps appearing in the low light of one small flame
All orange. All delight.
The walnuts and the apricots, warming on the stove
Domesticity abandoned in a fine home
The smell of fall and the cool air dropping in the room
Window open after all the glue and paint it could use
Words are but the coldest gifts to the tongue tied hopeless
So, please don't mention it
where the heavens soft and blow on everything unsaid
The molassesies, the tiny aching, its bell pipe, the shine
It never wonders how not to, burning something in the way
but keeps appearing in the low light of one small flame
All orange. All delight.
The walnuts and the apricots, warming on the stove
Domesticity abandoned in a fine home
The smell of fall and the cool air dropping in the room
Window open after all the glue and paint it could use
Words are but the coldest gifts to the tongue tied hopeless
So, please don't mention it
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i can't wait to open my windows
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
"Words are but the coldest gifts to the tongue tied hopeless
So, please don't mention it" - Loved the end!!!!
Luff you!
we were diving, shallowish,
the pool was not too deep
we were swimming to the other end
when...
our lungs caught up
to piss about the air...
the lack thereof
I remembered that.
that, lack of air
how
A lack of air
seemed so starry on mountain top
stupid mop
we were diving, shallowish,
the pool was
we were swimming to the other end
when...
our lungs caught up
to piss about the air...
the lack thereof
I remembered that.
that, lack of air
how A lack of air
seemed so starry on the mountain top
stupid mop
(stupid typos)
is my stuff all predictable and shit?
knowwhatimean?
so beautiful..ty for sharing
it's only after you've lost everything ...that you are free to do anything....(Fight Club)
... I'll ride the wave...where it takes me....
Keep this, and run with it - like the wind
the first paragraph seems like your mind was meandering trying to catch hold of a thought, and you caught a beautiful one - now start with that
I just read this, No, no, keep going, like ETE says!
and hey... evil (and fins, too, and p_j_n) ~ thanks for your encouragement... it is very very much appreciated
love, loves
Me quotey is from a song called Curio by Barkmarket. I do believe it was written by David Sardy and I was actually recently pleasantly surprised to see that he produced the new Wolfmother! Nice! You should check it out, it's a pretty good album.
glows orange under slow light
heavens sigh and blow on everything
left yet unsaid. The molassesies, the tiny
aching, the bell pipe the bird jumped from, the white shine..
It never wondered how
not to, burning something in my way, but
kept appearing in the low light of my small flame
All orange. All delight. The walnuts and the apricots were
Warming on the stove
when the Domesticity abandoned
out back for a bit. The fine home for a moment.
The smell of fall and the cool air dropping in the room,
onto you. Windows open after all the glue and paint they could use
They used to call you Blue, but I say some still could.
Nicknames are the coolest gifts to the tongue tied iceless, so
please, don't mention it. I'd call you Orange if you knew
glows orange under slow light
heavens kiss and blow on everything
left yet unsaid. The molassesies, the tiny
aching, the bell pipe the bird jumped from, the white shine..
It never wondered how
not to, burning something in the way, but
kept appearing in the low light of one small flame
All orange. All delight. The walnuts and the apricots were...
Warming on the stove
Domesticity abandoned out back
for a bit. The fine home for a moment.
The smell of fall and the cool air dropping in the room,
onto it. Windows open after all the glue
They used to call him Blue, and I say some still could.
Nicknames are the coolest gifts to the tongue tied icelesses, so
please. Don't mention it? I'd call him Orange if he knew
hey... you and smitt come down and drink Sloppy Wets with us tonight, k?
if you can't make IT
then make yer own...
4 parts cherry-infused vodka
1 part sour apple schnapps
shoot and kiss...
Among the most infuriating instances of humanity lay something untouchable.
Something only he knows he doesn't know yet.
And is grasping?!? God, please say that he is grasping.
Say that he is vertical, or horizontal to whichever horizon
he is justified... say that he is moving and reaching.
Hands and feet, one and then the other, going...
There is this field, this fourth dimension.
This patchwork of memory. This future known, and unknown all the same.
Next to his field there is another, overlapping on its corners and its edges
becoming weight and in the way, as all things overlapping are but never mean to be.
Scrape us off, these edgies. The weights, the waits, the in-the-ways.
Be we open grateful to these holier of nothings. These unions.
cover your nuts, minding feet and elbows
turn, smile, talk football... it's all good
you silly schitz, it's just a little kid
little kids will be grown ups, soon enough
a blip in the chance god gives us to be special
my again and again reset,
idling in march's retreater tonight (goodbye)
yes but, slowly this time
may's bygones in the wings (goodbye)
you, my sweet tongue tied,
bubble up come this November
watch for now, (goodbye)