OverStimulation////////////////

OverStimulation////////////////

Thursday, November 30, 2017

Untitled Collection



Untitled Poem No. 5

The lungs are a tired machine.
They take in smoke,
and put out lies.

Is there a cure for wickedness?
Is there a single being without vice?

Let me weave some words to
mend you, dear lungs;
let me give you relief.

The leaves fall to the earth
every year, and become the earth,
to give life back to the trees.
Likewise the the bird’s bones
give way
to make the bird's eggs again.

Even the most distant comets
fall to the sun
to make it just a wee bit brighter.
So breathe, dear lungs.

Take in reason
and put out  the absurd.

For there is no cure for wickedness,
or a being without vice.

Take in free air
no matter the price.





Untitled Poem No. 7

they say failure
lets you learn
and loneliness
makes you want to speak

but i've failed plenty
been lonely
and never learned a thing
or felt compelled to speak

so then,
shall i simply
make everything work?
shall i simply seek
the greatest company?

come close, ancient poets
come close, wisdom that eludes me
teach me your way with words
fill my heart with the lightness
of being

"fuck you" the poets say
"get a grip" reality agrees

fair enough
that's certainly fair enough

suppose i'll try another path
the best ones are too dirty





Untitled Poem No. 11

far away 
but not too far
there is a moon called Rhea
every day 
the light of our star 
shows the way from here to Rhea

I think I left my heart there
even though I've never been
I fell in love with a distant light 
I think
after I hit my head
falling
I felt my head hit the ground
and I looked up, far away,
upon Rhea, the distant moon

and she said, "I watched you live and die a thousand times.
I've watched the trees grow a thousand feet and burn down,


and you can still join the light."

aaand when i woke up
the n urse said her name was R

R what?
i said

"R," she said
"General said'n you took a shell 
in the trench,
screaming, 'Rhea, Rhea
please fix me.'"

so they sent me there with cannonfire
and i wnet far away





Untitled Poem No. 38

here, take this flame
let it light your mind
and home
and stove

let this fire 
into your heart
so it can burn away
your ill intent 

trust me 
this flame came 
from ancient trees

ancient rain
could not kill this holy light
I hand you now
there is no devil 
deep below 
there is no reason up above

take this flame
and light your own sky

make it so
none of our flames die





Untitled Poem No. 63

laying here
among the wires
the condor considers its prey

but it knows
you can't eat a spark
despite how hungry you are

so it looks on 
beyond the wires
flying high on golden wings

up there, far away 
an angel sings
sweet slumbers to hungry birds

"sing," the condor says
as the angel looks at the sun
"it's already singing for us,"

she said
"but if you're hungry
feast upon the tears of the ear
feast upon fear."

and the condor got
z app ed
down
to the 
sp arks
where we lay





Untitled Poem No. 57

what happened before time existed?

well, something made time.

fuck knows if we'll ever figure out
who or what did it
but it's done

the best moments,
like stretched strings,
build tension and snap

and when those moments snap
what are we to do?

stretch new strings
make them sing
and if nothing else,
use dreams to become a king

god knows we spend so much time
in dreamland
even when we're awake

so go to bed 
and wake up for once