UntitledGratitude Chokaalone in my house,with your undelivered mail,I hear the washing-machineclean the clothes you left;the dust gathers in your roomalong with the silencesand the absent firelets in the winter's chill,but I think of you and smile.
wind chimesone bird on a wire,two birds on another -wind chimes
Dullsome days the rainenvelopes time,stamps the pavementwithout a soundthrough the window passing.I, en-chambered,not waking but sleepingat the post,receivingunwritten messages.
Fish and Frog.A Frogologue.Frog is sitting on a log that is lying across a small pond. Fish is swimming around in that pond.Frog: We are all objects moving through space and time.Fish: You are not moving; you are sitting. Neither am I moving through space; I am moving through water.Frog: Mere quibbles, Quibbler. The water and the log are both moving through space as the world turns, and because you are in the water and I am on the log, we are moving too.Fish: I object.Frog: Why?Fish: You said I was an object so I am objecting.Frog: Ha, ha, very funny, Tiddler.Fish: My name is Fish.Frog: To me you are a tiddler. I am old and wise beyond your imagining.Fish: You have no idea of what I can imagine. Besides, there's a lot I don't even need to imagine, such as pompous frogs on logs.Frog: I rise above you, in
Behind the curtain.maybe it's good to be depressed because:all the tawdry rags you've worn make sense;you don't have to believe in finery anymore;you can see that all your friends are fools;that the biggest fool is you,that you are me.
Letters From Holmes sampler.This is a sampler of part of the Secret Santa gift I made for PresentsFromSanta. Unfortunately I forgot to take any photos of it before I sent it away, but it is primarily a textual gift. It consisted of a series of letters and post-cards from Sherlock Holmes (modern version) to his friend John Watson. They were placed in random order and put in a folder labelled Top Secret with accompanying instructions from Watson to sort them in to order and also to extract from them an embedded text which will lead the recipient to my DA account where I will reveal the end to the mystery and lead to the recovery (hopefully) of the missing Sherlock. There are some red herrings in the letters, but I hope the solving will be fun and not too difficult. Words that I have capitalised here are actually written in red ink in the original documents.A few of the letters in no particular order:Letter:Dear John,You say the lady vanishes? I wonder.I have procured
thought and memory-thought and memory-Wait three seconds, then hear crowsstorm approaching... how it mutterseyes are closing, breathing deeplywaiting for the chimes to weepdistant rumbleof man and machinethoughts are silentstorm approaching...how it mutterswaiting for the chimes to weepgliding form of shadow crowSlowly waking from a dreamthe childhood homebulldozed and carted away butnot from my mindGliding form of shadow crowFar away the thunder comments One more day, without existingYour perfumed scent, lingers stillkiss meunder the arching rosesonce againOne more day, without existingEyes are closing, breathing deeplyYour perfumed scent, lingers stillWait three seconds, then hear crows
Finding Lossin the sky, stars now fallingfrom the river rises steamwishes made, but seldom grantedFate is cold...and sometimes meanunseenfaster than the speed of lightsnow fallsfrom the river rises steamFate is cold...and sometimes meanbetween us both a candle flickersand by your lips i often burncold kissesupon the groundflaming leavesbetween us both a candle flickers with just whisper it is goneand fields of ice your eyes soon turna foolish game of breaking heartsa thousand firesan invisible lakebeyond the citywith just a whisper it is gonewishes made but seldom granteda foolish game of breaking heartsin the sky, stars now falling
Oral sex haikustretch, yawncrow and swallowthe moon
Thank YouI am thankful forHow a professional footballerIs still a professional footballerEven though he went to prison for rape.I am thankful forThe number of kids I knowWho cut themselvesBecause life is too much.I am thankful forThe unarmed, retreating black kidShot in the back byAn unpunished police officer.I am thankful forThe number of peopleWho are starving to deathIn the land of plenty.I am thankful forThe Westboro Baptist ChurchAnd ISISAnd every other person who uses religion as an excuse for hatred.I am thankful forAll the gay peopleWho have been beatenJust for daring to love.I am thankful forAll the transgender peopleWho have been beatenJust for daring to be themselves.I am thankful forPro-Life fascists Who put an insentient fistful of cellsBefore a living, breathing human and disregard their autonomy.I am thankful forThe teenage girlsStarving themselves to deathTo look like an impossible model.I am thankful forAll the little girlsTurned brid
Dead manI was walking down the streetand saw a dead man thereHe had bled out on the curbnobody seemed to careHe laid still day after dayLots of blind eyes were turnedI thought he would go awaywhen his body was burnedHe told me the other dayhe was no one at allLike others, I was to forgetthat he answered Hell's callI walked by that alleyand I saw the dead man thereI recalled what he had said,pretended not to careTruth is, it's still in my headthe body that I foundIt has long since been cleaned upyet his death still stains the groundI stand by the alleywayThe rain turns sand to mudI don't know if you can see,but to me, it's raining blood
Trust and Doubt: A PantoumI've seen signsin so many people,nothing insignificant,saying, "Follow mein." So many peoplewear that expression,saying, "Follow me.Wear what Iwear." That expressionexhausts my mind, and Iwear. What Iwish: to never inhaleexhausts. My mind and Ifree to choose, towish, to never inhalesomething I might regret:free. To choose toknow it might all meansomething. I might regretif I discover,know, it might all meannothing; insignificantif I discoverI've seen signs.
Brief Moments of LifeWe drinkthrough the long nightdon't thinkWe foughtwithout reasonno thoughtLove madeonce the smoke clearsyou stayed
Caring From a DistanceI see you, you see me,from a distance.Close enough, never far apart,never satisfies my heart.I care for you more than anything,you don't feel the same way,so I say:“How is caring from a distance?”
repetitionwhat will it taketo stem the tidecan there be an optionto surviveif differences persistmalignancies will growwhen no witness remainswho would knowfatalistic prophets predictthe die is castcan we cease and desistrepeating our past
CutsDon't go and take a razorto the place where it hurtsfor slashing onlymakes it all the more worse.Don't use a bladeto take away the pain,else you'll only do itover and over again.
My LabyrinthRun through my streetsTry not to go astraySometimes I don't understand myselfI block all doorwaysThe streets we walked, they meltedNow we got timeIt's just you and meTell me what I shouldn't seeSometimes I don't understand myselfThere are no escapesUntil truth gets visibleIt's all too muchSometimes I don't understand myselfYou could be my victimTrapped inside the labyrinth'Though I'm not you, not that cruelI'll get to the core anywaysI'll see through your skinI'll make you feelI know what's underneathStill, sometimes I don't understand myself
Another Troubled ScreenagerLooking down..And walking through.All around;The crowds don't know you.Not a sound..Your eyes are glued-to social media,and internet news.Feeling proud..Of a thousand friends,who never talk.You are abound;"Hey you, watch where you walk!"It's all so fake,Your life's at stake.These are the dangers..Of becoming-Another Troubled Screenager.-Corbin
april seventhtimepresses onwardsIam flattened