Tag: blue aesthetic

Poem: In real time (vast chasm)

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Poem: In real time (vast chasm)

Arched back, my universe
A mint sage green to invigorate me since I’m so,
Tired of the way things have been going
Parts of me I loved, not really showing
Vintage glamour too much of an effort; I’m sinking down
I know that I swim very well, so it’s not sensible to drown
But I have this one thought I want to get rid of
That maybe it’s peaceful down there
I know I can bring to this valley some flowers
But what if the prettiest ones are underground
I’m scared of this one thought I pretend not to have
That maybe I can take something and finally find out
I’m scared of this one thought I have

I simultaneously do and don’t want to be
Wondering if people in other vehicles on the freeway can see me crying.
The depth of the city
Pale bloom mid-toned grey, avalanche of a highway
Miles per hour in the hundreds – this is my place
It’s my crisp green apple
So why am I disconsolate in lowercase
Feeding into a winter sunrise that falls on me like a torrential downpour

Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)

Your brown eyes, they see something in me
Oh, I believe it
But I know I need to see something too
I’m scared of this one thought I have
That perhaps this book is becoming too long
I have all these notebooks
I’ve never written in
I have all these contacts
That I just delete
The sun hits me hard and the skies wake me up, but the noise is like tar and I do love the black
But the panic attacks
The heirloom pink that fades so fast
When I eventually fall asleep
Time and space not linked, so casually on the brink
Of falling in

Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)

Don’t want to be someone
That is too tired to make their own cup of
Coffee
Don’t feel I need someone
Halfway think I don’t deserve it
It feels so unconventional but on-purpose
Like a car that refuses to accept gasoline

I have a fence
That grows taller around me
I spin in circles
But not to break free
If someone saw this
They’d conclude I was insane
But I am clearing cobwebs
From my own brain

Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)

Arched back, my universe
Anabolism and violent television shows that I don’t watch
Avoiding mass speculation and trembling violations
My white chair that faces two separate vases of flowers
I love it here
And I can’t bare to hate anything at all

Except being
Unable
To make
A cup of coffee
In real time

I am surprised
That I
Can write

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Poem: Choking on grapes

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Choking on Grapes

It was on purpose
It wasn’t a mistake
I got
Frostbite
From choking on splinters
Peeling them like grapes

Thin as a needle
You make it seem easy
The ploughing is destroying the peyote
And I have created a party for you, the reason for my demise
I’ve been so intrigued ever since you rolled down the window for me to feel the breeze

You will always have the medicine with you
Wherever you go

Poem: Choking on Grapes, continued

In Texas, I felt free because the gas was cheap, and I had salt in my
Teeth
Washing my brand-new blue jeans
Wheat fields and a can of cola, riding in the bed of a truck looking over my shoulder
Tired of having nobody to say anything to
I feel alone and even though I’m used to it
I still have to shrug it off, it seems
A fig tree standing for no one

Pharmacology is lovely & my favourite toothpaste is by Arm & Hammer
I drive to the nearby Rite Aid, where I get a lottery ticket for my mother
Mixing up my favourite numbers
I never win, but she swears I’m so lucky
I couldn’t spell it out right if you had the guts to call me
The ravens in the sky figured out how to fly
In ways that make girls and boys want to order cameras that run on film
See a kid skateboard home and it’s like it’s 2008
And my hair is blonde
A lavender bush smiling for no one

Poem: Choking on grapes, continued

Cut in half an apricot
Can run for miles; dimes are all I got
My backpack is lilac, because I want the items I own to be beautiful
To represent a part of me that feels eternal
Colour schemes and fever dreams
I get lost
Upside down
Tangled in between two separate swings
Lose and find my favourite things

It must have been on purpose
It was no mistake
Soft cotton
Precious limestone
Overflowing bookcase that survives California earthquakes
Girls are selling their poetry on Instagram and I’m

Still broke
Choking on splinters
Peeling them like grapes

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Poem: Angel (first impressions)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Welcome to my poetry website! If the colour of a poem’s background does not change, it’s still the same poem. Each poem ends when you’ve reached the Soundcloud box.

I’m working on a new email newsletter for post updates. xx

Poem: Angel (first impressions)

I’m made of limestone; artists come from across the world just to carve me into
Something that can breathe
I’ve got angel wings
That never tear
Can see right through my own teeth
My future with anybody
Carve me into
Carve me into
Something that’s alive and breathing

Drawing faces on eggs and putting them back in the carton at the local market
Way I walk makes a man wish he could properly aim at a target
Not everything comes with practice and this I keep written on the inside of my inner lip
Angel feathers, sparkly pink cream lip gloss
Climb to the tops of the trees he painted when he was severely depressed
Cut down for a holiday that I do adore
Like the perfume I let flow across my bedroom floor

Hazel eyes that are this close to igniting a fire
Soy coffee Frappuccino, five boxes of matches
A liquor cabinet that only holds candles
My love is addictive, so I’m careful where I place my things
The rocks at my apartment complex are fake and so are the looks he gave
Buying lighter fluid by the barrel
Why would you do that to your own home
When it looks so sweet amongst cobblestone
The air is fresh like a diamond that I found in Nevada
Next to waterfalls that only fell
When I would ask them to

My black jeans hold eye drops and amphetamines
A boy in a beanie ordering coffee has forgotten his own name
He doesn’t know what to say
I say pick one, you can be anyone – don’t you know?
He coughs
I melt
Slip in-between the ash brown tiles that line the floor
I only like three bands that make alternative rock
And the rocks are fake around my block
Like the looks he gave when I sipped my coffee and began to realize I was
So much in the wrong place
Glasses that are black, lips that make you blush
I’m used to
I’m used to being both too much

And not enough

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Free verse poetry: Dream garden (dust)

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Free verse poetry: Dream garden (dust)

Avalanche
Dream garden
February twenty-nine

Too beautiful to me, it is
The way the truth falls but doesn’t diminish its overwhelming servitude
Grief like hollow images and stills
To be flawed and fawned with grey embers & soft wax
Rolled on Ireland’s greenest pastures
My dream garden
My avalanche

I wake up endlessly absolving my sins, unraveling for you
Tell me what it is you want me to do
I’m so aware of what I can and cannot be
And I think it’s best you not be there for me
I tire in my own sleep

Morning cereal
For four in the afternoon
You wash over me like an
Avalanche
Like my dream garden
White roses and picket fences, freshly painted
Soft tuberose fragrance
Dismantling me from within
Fabricated and built in great jeopardy
Soft and of the finest fabric

I think of you in waterfalls, that I’ve never seen before
I ask you to close the door
I’m impatient in the mornings but by evening so wrapped up in comatose fiber sheath
Toying with my own nerves
On purpose
Like a fever dream
Like ants unscrambled
Running out of fear, hiding beneath dust
Moving pollen and feathers to their corporate offices

When I pass by you on the street
With my kitten heels and utmost softness
Try not to
Try not to

Go back to your dream garden
Your avalanche
Beneath dust

Connected by the sheer composition that melts in broad daylight
Collectively held at
A disadvantage
Brought together in the Spring when the ambiance paints a different mood
For the dust underneath the conjoining ether
Without reserve
Still and unenthusiastic
Hopeful, yet without meaning

Find me in my personal dream garden
When the smoke clears

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Free verse poem: Things I’ve found out (the right season)

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Things I’ve found out (the right season)

a free verse poem about finding stability & self-acceptance

I know
That things won’t work out as planned
I know that
Because my mother taught me how to be a man
But there are
Parts of me that won’t let someone hold my hand
Because I
Because I
Find graveyards appealing
Harsh winter thunderstorms healing
And the chaos within you is quite often revealing
Of the doom and dismay your surroundings convey
The filth
The agony
The dreams others built for you become destroyed
I’m my own person

But when I drive home at night
I don’t feel alone
I just know I am

It was cold in Chicago
And I wanted to lay down
In the snow
My frail body
Seldom appears melancholy
Singing you songs, breathlessly, to you in your sleep
Though my voice is never the right pitch
Maybe that’s why I wait
Until you hit your steady dream state
An abyss of perpetual ignorance to moral obligations

The impatience
Is testing me
Like a ticking clock
Telling me
I
Haven’t painted
The sky quite right
Haven’t gotten the stars
To my audience’s delight
And I think
I might combust
From the tainted, porcelain figure I often wish to set on fire
Because what burns
Feels so warm
In winter

It’s almost
February
The anniversary of
A thousand slumbers
A rainfall that struck me like
Lightning on the fast lane on the highway
Swerving between cars with my eyes closed
Thinking I’m oh – I’m just so composed
But me, parchment paper thick, practically comatose
Wouldn’t keep anyone up at night
When you haven’t
Made a name
For yourself
And nobody
Gets the intonation
In your full name quite right
Maybe it’s not
The right time
To say

That what burns feels so warm
In winter
My god
The shades of blue
How I’d devour the skyline
Like an arsonist,
I fade to grey
Along with the trembling cityscape

I encapsulate all the seasons & am easily forgotten

I only hope to properly portray
The vacancy light in this hotel I occupy

Me,
Against the wall
Cold, doll-like, confused
Fingertips
Painted the lightest shade of pink that the nail salon could offer me
If only,
I could be elegant
I could like parts of myself that others don’t
I could live my life like
My father envisioned

When he said to me

That I was born
In the perfect season
For a girl who prolongs
Finding a reason
To burn this place down to the ground

Hollow
Cave
Where my old journals remain
Where ex-boyfriends mispronounce my last name
They never remember the best parts of you
They never really knew
How to get through
How your eyes turn dark green when your favourite song comes on
Or when the colour temperature is five thousand Kelvin and
I feel ashamed
That I woke up to find
Myself
Not in embers
But filling a body
With wholeness that only

Real self-acceptance could develop and create

Something permanent
Is never
Found

I’m no good with directions but I don’t believe I’m lost
I’m exactly
On my own two feet
Waiting
To leave a message after the beep

But I hang up, because I remember
They can’t pronounce my last name
The intonation
Is weak
And I
Am so
Much farther than I thought I would be
At this time of my life
Are you, at all, surprised?

When I look
At the cars
Passing me by
On the highway,
I wonder
If they’re going
Somewhere warm and inviting

I don’t know why
That
To me
Feels so terribly frightening

Like a cradle filled with endless lightning

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