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
Alternatively, Platitudes with Attitudes
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