sneep-sonnets - Tumblr blog

[sneep-sonnets]

A sky with too many stars

Black is the water, black as the sky, black as the depths beneath the waves. The division between heaven and earth depends on the moon’s captivating, luminous light and how it suddenly spills onto the horizon across the water all the way to your awestruck eyes.

To your eyes, the moon exists only once in the sky,  in its palace above the horizon, but why is it also scattered across these sharp and whispering waves? Are they made of authentic light, these fragments of the moon’s?

The true and pure moon’s haughty eyes have a gaze so light and unbothered as wispy clouds in the sky that it never acknowledges the movements of the waves. Why would it, when its reign is limited to above the horizon?

After the crossing of the horizon into the infinite space of planets and moons there is little care for the land’s earth or the ocean’s waves, when there is everything in the cosmos for your eyes to see infinitely, overwhelmed by awe, as the limit has surpassed the sky. How does it feel to be dazzled by this alluring celestial light?

Below, imitations created by the original’s light and trapped beneath the horizon are never to be freed with the stars in the sky.

And it has, for many moons, been seen by many eyes as truth that such earthly ideas will never rise above the waves.

But each wave’s deceptively shallow movements hide the infinite, abyssal depths where there is no light, where it is darker than the night sky, making useless your eyes. Maybe the moon fragments are imprisoned below the horizon for their ethereal luminosity overwhelms the moon’s - which hides, terrified, in its fortress in the sky,

Holding them back, by the barrier of the horizon, and defending the pure sky, which would be a strange sight filled with too many stars - thousands of shattered moons.

[sneep-sonnets]

The narrow green safe in the bedroom upstairs blocked the attic door  so I tried to move it and it left a red streak,  rusty red on the carpet like the rust where the leaky roof drips,  but it seems like the stain can’t go away, it’ll just have to stay.

Once as I sorted the clothes in the attic hours too late, I fell asleep on the bed.  I woke up soon after when a voice said something too quiet to hear, with a sigh,  and the safe (being slightly ajar) caught my eye, with a shadowy figure was huddled inside.

When I woke a second time, the safe was still closed but the scrape of the door  had furrowed the carpet, although I hope it’s just from the first time that I moved it.  Now when I move the safe, rearranging the bedroom,  the ominous weight in the base makes me attuned to the sounds of its contents sliding within.

Even now, every time that I turn and look back it seems like it’s shifted,  and the dark stain has been trailed all across the room, and every time  I almost hear an exhale.

There’s nothing in that narrow green safe but rusted metal and metallic-smelling runoff and whatever’s inside,  there’s nothing strange happening unless whatever’s inside is, so I just need to know what it is that’s within,

I’ll just find a way to force it open then I’ll know for sure. I will not regret it when my fears are relieved, and knowing what’s in there will save me the worry. Surely.

[sneep-sonnets]

DEFINITIVE PROOF OF ALIEN CONTACT discovered on VIKING RUNESTONE!!! (not clickbait)

In the land of stars sails the sky-steed, Frey’s Skíðblaðnir, towards its friend: The heavenly-flying Hliðskjálf with its holistic gaze over the flesh of Ymir. The gracious gifts of Mjölnir and Megingjörð and, too, Gungnir, came from beyond the bird-world, Delivered by the star-dwarves; who, dauntlessly, traveled to other suns, Towards which they once took leave, tearing the great gold-bird away - Away from its passage around the world and its partner, the path-sharing moon who walks the same arc. In skyfaring flame-ships they departed, As our dead now are honoured in blazing crafts, So that they may reach the golden vessel, Valhalla, which lives now within the constellations.

[sneep-sonnets]

there is a bird in my head telling me what to do

Red cloaked bird people orbit in space, a council deciding your fate, freeing you of guilt I am a bird headed man with hollowness inside, trapped by nonexistent responsibility and the weight of my worries

Around us are the stepping-stone mosaics  of ancient cities in yellow mud stone 

[sneep-sonnets]

my mind as a post-post apocalypse

When the blades wave up to the sunbeams, twisted metal and tall grass alike,

The summer shimmer in the air casts life into a dead, dry world.

A scene of serenity with the glint of destruction like the shadows left by an earth-shattering blast

The crumbled concrete past is the foundation which the weeds have overtaken

The promise of the nature-claimed paradise post-apocalype is a failed hope

And the vines grow yellowed and tight to choke the skeletons of the skyscrapers

But the sun is releasing its suffocating grip, for the only thing stronger than pain is the movement of time,

And so we renew, we grow, so long as we allow ourselves patience and peace

And the rains will shock the dust from shifting stupor to fresh soil.

This respite is as brief as the touch of a dragonfly

So as renewal becomes real, each droplet of water from the leaf is to be appreciated

And when there is no more left to celebrate

No more exists to mourn

And we lie in wait

For the day to come

When we can live again once more

[sneep-sonnets]

from refuse you were made, and to refuse you return.  formed of your last shreds of dignity reshaped into your paper heart you’ve tried your best but it’s not your fault that it’s slightly-crumpled and translucent with tear-stains. slow and painful, fibers pulling apart, you “try to hold it together” but there’s no way to save it (no easy way) so, the paper-shredder is back everything on that page is now a memory all that you gave it is gone. from refuse you were made, and to refuse you return.  formed of your last shreds of dignity reshaped into your paper heart rebirthed and ready to repeat this story

[sneep-sonnets]

In wildlands deep and caverns low A dragon deals  A deadly blow Look out on the mountains capped with snow Upon its land No man shall go

Once here there came a prideful lord Heard of the dragon’s  Glittering hoard Tied it up with his magical cord And stabbed its heart  With his silver sword

The lord set off before the dawn Through snow and storm,  he carried on  In the wildlands, no man belongs  When he reached the cave The dragon was gone

[sneep-sonnets]

sepia

it's dusty forests and burbling brooks and a golden-yellow glow over rows of mobile homes and gas station restaurants,

there's buildings that look a century old with signs on the side that say “billy’s trading post” where you can buy fireworks and chewing gum, but not a brand you've ever heard of,

there's young people smoking outside of closed-down fast food spots or retro butterfly-roofed diners,

there's motels along the highway, some with caved-in ceilings and keep-out signs,

there's chain stores in empty mall complexes at dusk,

there's a sepia sheen over the canyon and the river and the mountains,

the place that doesn't feel real in the summer

[sneep-sonnets]

sus

We are the crewmates on this spaceship flight, but there is one of us who's not the same. They creep through hallways, spreading deadly fright, but who among us is the one to blame?

The destination of our journey's far, and we must do our tasks to keep us safe to chart our careful journey through the stars, ensuring that The Skeld still runs, unscathed.

Now as I left Electrical, I heard a clinking clank, though there's no one to show. Out of a vent Red suddenly appeared, stabbed Blue and then he's swiftly back below.

There was no witness to the incident, But please don't vote me out, I'm innocent -