пʼятниця, 5 квітня 2013 р.
Nicol A. Kostic. Decompressing
I used to be more social but,
it nearly drove me crazy,
as I tried to keep that concealed,
& repeatedly lost so much sleep,
from a constantly ringing phone,
or continual knocking on my door,
wheather it was 4 different people,
wanting an audience,
or 1 person knocking, X 4,
all hours of the day, & night,
reaching a saturation point,
where I just couldn't take anymore,
& voluntarily isolated myself,
with a vow of silence,
up in a tower,
a self-imposed exile,
over tree tops,
where birds fly by,
past a ledgeless window,
where there is no place for them to land.
( inhaling one deep breath,
with a sigh )...
How sweet this quiet peace.
четвер, 4 квітня 2013 р.
James Arthur/ Poem from Behind a Gorilla Mask
Fuck you to the following:
(I can't keep track of names) anyone you know
with a waterfront view. All your accusers
and all whom they accuse. The many aching
to be the few. Drum-bangers, gangbangers,
self-hangers, demigods. Those who make the love,
love the peace, or make the killing.
I include myself as well; I know how sympathy
rots the heart. Thank you
for your love. You get my pity in return.
I wrote this on a Tuesday
sitting in the park.
(I can't keep track of names) anyone you know
with a waterfront view. All your accusers
and all whom they accuse. The many aching
to be the few. Drum-bangers, gangbangers,
self-hangers, demigods. Those who make the love,
love the peace, or make the killing.
I include myself as well; I know how sympathy
rots the heart. Thank you
for your love. You get my pity in return.
I wrote this on a Tuesday
sitting in the park.
середа, 3 квітня 2013 р.
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