millicentkempe - Tumblr blog

[millicentkempe]

Fawn and the Fallacy

Humbly taut,

A fawn - so meager -

Delicate in attractancy,

Bows and blushes,

Scatters - so eager -

Avoiding the voices in jactancy.

A fallacy -

How disasterly

The hunter, he hunts her,

So dastardly

By the fear on her face

And the fear in her ears -

The Chase! -

He takes her by force

To his place

Through the forest 

And breaks her

So craftily.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

Tender

Tender on the cheek

A finger

Left soft to wander

'Cross the drawn-out

Week

And linger just a little

Farther.

Are there any left

To speak?

A hardened tongue

Clicks on

To guard her

From the solemn, yet the

Meek,

And take her for

A daughter.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

You brewed

Oh,

I just want to go.

I told you; you knew.

I had wanted to leave.

But no,

You knew. You brewed.

A cup of coffee on low,

Steaming itself to bitter,

And I, myself, the same.

I stayed.

But now, I'll go.

[millicentkempe]

I Am Alone

Everything is very beautiful

and I am alone.

I am the only me ,

The only one

lonely to my sense of world;

How can you know me?

How can I know anything

But myself, my sight, my sounds?

Yet we burn ourselves in fires

Eager to share our minds;

Spew our thoughts like Pollocked colors

And hope to find another.

Yet we spit at the feet of people

Who dare to think for themselves;

Shun the other minds that don’t

Agree with us.

I am beautiful

But so are you.

We are both alone,

But we pass and smile,

Eager for centripetal release.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

Boiled Beets

Fury roams a conscious heart:

A sudden flick of thought escapes

And through--the woven falls apart--

The branches, fury escalades

Until it reaches fingertips--

Now swollen red like boiled beets--

Into a fist, a fleeting whip,

Then back to cool from hasty heat.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

By Murder

Aghast, a flock, taken by a murder,

Drowned in black translucent stares

And gone by wind to farther,

Which somehow did assure her

And leave aside her wares.

Ignore the world, she dared,

By calm in caws–allured her–

She pure, or, perhaps a daunting fare,

Decided, now aware,

To leave by flock, by murder.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

The Lout and the Revenant

Briskly lurked the lout, contorting,

To and from fallacious form

Solely for his sake aborting

Only to again be born;

He hissed and heaved through pompous lips

Forked and tonguing willful ears

And they aborted begrudgingly

Surrendering through hearty tears;

Until a ghost broke from the vessel

The revenant of his cold ego

And snatched his sultry tongue away

Refusing to become libido.

A hero by days' revealing light,

But hushed into the nightly static;

The revenant wins the battle

Retreating to her stormy attic.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

Maybe

Maybe in a dream, perhaps,

A thought could wander past the line--

Horizon guided by time elapsed--

Charmed by rose of eventide.

Maybe it could settle softly--

A calm amidst a sultry gander--

And evade it cooling awfully

Into tyrannous self-conscious slander.

Or maybe it could never be;

By sleep a thought averts inception,

Ignorant and blissfully,

It's birth, a fantastical impression.

Maybe it is just a may-be,

Condemned to everlasting fate,

Reliant on the conscious maybe:

Coincidental prophesying trait.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

By Murder

Aghast, a flock, taken by a murder,

Drowned in black translucent stares

And gone by wind to farther,

Which somehow did assure her

And leave aside her wares.

Ignore the world, she dared,

By calm in caws--allured her--

She pure, or, perhaps a daunting fare,

Decided, now aware,

To leave by flock, by murder.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

Fattly Laughing

Lips smacking, fattly laughing,

Ghastly objurgating timely fashion;

Will to crumble--the high elite--

That reign in ego and drown their fleet.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

Teased

Teased by the steel again--

Drunken wish by sober thought--

And rightfully distraught

To romanticize against the skin,

But, oh, how upset would be the kin

And disappointed by lessons taught,

Though none were sold and none were bought--

So edge pushed in and we begin.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

Kneeling in the Sand

Brittle by the oceans breath

I fell into the matted sand

And imposed, by my selfish breadth,

For calm to flood my heart, and yet

My knees pressed deep in beach's hand--

Penniless by greater planned--

Still pining for action to beget--

And yet! I'm kneeling in the sand.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

I Hear Another

I found a gentle flutter,

Fluttering admist my stutter,

Cloaked by garment thick and inky,

Choking through the whispered mutters

That a thought aghast did think he

Truly sneaky in movement crinkly

Yet the air filled with sound of clutter–

And now I hear another.

I moved through doorway, rusting archway,

Stolen by the chilly March day

And its frosty kiss and bite;

A vanity about its barged say–

My lips cracking, pursed, held tight

To ‘frain from all my blundering might

That might be accidentally stuttered–

I hear, I fear there is another.

A drum beneath my rib crescendos

All the while the sounding bellows

A rumble-metastasizing terror–

Grandly laughing Lucifer below–

Truly by own cognitive error

That I may fall by wish (to scare her)

And I hear again it muttered–

I know that there is another.

I stop, I hear the clack of prowling

Accompanied by faintest growling,

And the drum that pounds is halted

As I turn my neck to scowling

My effort turns to be defaulted

But he laughing at cost exalted:

Breathlessly I stutter–

“I thought I heard another.”

–m.k.

[millicentkempe]

In Parting

In parting winds have roared

Like a thousand lions wild,

And soft-ily adored

All the faculties beguiled

By illusions of accord

Until grand light became profiled

And a grasp like gasps of nitrogen

Was solely what was styled.

--m.k.

[millicentkempe]

Walk the Line

Walk the line Now, fading paint-- A white disintegrates To faint, And lost is balance On something bold That was promised By sin, But never told.

-m.k.

[millicentkempe]

An Innocence

A child's breath is   More noticed Than a sheep in its   Ovine ways, Yet both hum an   Essence of An innocence from   Lost days.

[millicentkempe]

Like A Pecker On His Tree

I do not peck at sully words (At least I do not try) But the tiptoes leading to The truth make me do Nothing else But pry. -m.k.