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Literature Text
The south pole sun
looks as though she's been crying.
She is no actress.
When all her twelves snap back to ones
she hands clocks instead of handshakes.
Let's call it impersonality practice.
She waits, cross-legged on a ballroom floor.
Her ninety degree neck gives her skylight eyes
and they wonder
looks as though she's been crying.
She is no actress.
When all her twelves snap back to ones
she hands clocks instead of handshakes.
Let's call it impersonality practice.
She waits, cross-legged on a ballroom floor.
Her ninety degree neck gives her skylight eyes
and they wonder
Literature
but in actuality?
a stalemate in her shrunken veins
as though to wither were to die
but she,
in her bloody underpinnings
and
ghoulish imaginings
could breathe nothing as steadily
as the rain-
she blistered delicately away
at each bedchamber's
whispering.
now, with the ramshackle
turning of her heart
armies march-
fumbling in maladroit
blitzkrieg
while the dregs of her mourning tea
drown.
Literature
universal constant
i.
i never make the same mistake,
except when i do.
ii.
i crossed the street with my eyes closed
and hoped to hear the siren,
not the screeching of tires
nor the sighing
of my last loved breath
being violently reft,
nor the screams
of the ones
i have left.
iii.
i will write a book
on how to dig up a road full of gold
with broken fingers,
how to uproot an ocean
then bury yourself beneath it,
how to live with a cross
that you nailed.
iv.
i am better
for having known you.
i am more aware
of my human
core.
i am seeing
that my hands don't weave,
they knot.
i am worse
than i thought.
v.
i never make the same mistake,
except when i do.
vi.
i fe
Literature
tainted truths and temptation
dewdrops fall from
fresh, fragrant flora,
and
decaying daffodils alike.
water drips from a leaky faucet,
tainted truths spill over supple lips.
what a pretty name for lies.
falsities
roll from a lissome tongue,
sounding seductive symphonies,
sugaring bitterness with honey.
don't get stung.
I am the young stream through which the refuse runs;
the tender sapling hollowed with unseen rot.
dark, silken truths,
and ruddy, velvet fact,
woven,
sewn together to create a lovely mask.
beautiful, ornate,
loathsome folds of fabrication.
deceit is spoken with conviction and allure
so strong and piercing
they blind,
distract,
so
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for jordan, with love.
for jordan, with love.
© 2010 - 2024 londonrey
Comments65
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You never fail to leave me completely and utterly stunned at the end of every piece. It’s not just your way with words, it is the subjects of your writing (seriously the south pole sun!); it’s what makes you stand out from the rest. We are all writing about emotions, situations touched upon by so many but you write about things most people wouldn’t even think of. You’re going to be famous some day for your poetry, I know it, and I will be your fan, I know that too 
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