#feed me poetry

[mercurygray]

Grass, by Carl Sandburg

From Cornhuskers (1918)

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.

Shovel them under and let me work—

                                          I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg

And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.

Shovel them under and let me work.

Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:

                                          What place is this?

                                          Where are we now?

                                          I am the grass.

                                          Let me work.

[soracities]

Our air is thin & cold. I’m afraid of life. Everything is smoke & ghosts.

Talin Tahajian, from "Variations on the ways his music feed is a love poem and I hate it", pub. Inferior Planets

[gamchawizzy]

desperate grasping at the infinite, much like the stars: endless immeasurable the bloodstained grains of sand by the sea

a bygone world swirling, churning infinite in potential never further

for man is only what his nightmare permits

[breeistired]

“If I stop writing

Someone will become better than I

And I will no longer be a poet

But a girl that tried”

- Bree Murillo, Chapters of a Teenage Girl

[mnsc-nikyy]

Me pidieron que escribiera de amor...

De amor escribía, me rompía, yo decía en cada palabra el silencio que me carcomía; como una copa que poco a poco se rompía por la ambigüedad de lo que en ese entonces sentía.

Cada letra era el título de mi reflejo, pues para llegar al amor hay que caminar muy lejos.

Tan creciente y alucinante era la voz de las comas, los puntos desgarraban cada tilde en el sentido de la vida, y los subtitulos de la melancolía.

Pensé en qué decir como si de amor se tratase.

Murmuré en cada latido que mi alma corrompía.

Respiré en la atmósfera del odio.

Caminé en el infierno por buscar el paraiso,

y decaí más por el frío que por mi propio abismo.

En las entrañas de cada sinónimo ocupa una debilidad.

Debilidad que me inspira, a la cual ruego, que deseo, que muero por la debilidad.

Poesía derramada por el caos de un mañana.

Parpadear muriendo por la causa de mis sentidos, de lo caótica que es mi atípica demencia y la perspectiva al rogar por la clemencia de una noche gris.

Palabras en el fondo del mar lleno, más yo estoy, más escribí de amor.

-Mnsc.

[sweetsweetperil]

I craved you like a fever

Like a fire craves the heat,

Burning brighter and brighter

I'd beg and crawl at your feet,

But know that something within me

Is what feeds the hunger; the need,

It's nothing you did, honey

Don't get caught thinking you mean something to me

[proselles]

yeah u could say im basic (i like hearing the full sound bites from tv girl songs)

[nopenototdaysatan]

It. Is. Time. To start my next series. Welcome back! This time Vidow is on the chopping blocks and oh man is it gonna be good.... And long. Like excruciating levels of long. I promise we'll get through this together.

Good news for everyone this time I have the first three poems complete so I'll be posting those three once a week for the next couple of weeks. Huzzah! Let's start with some Vio this week.

Our Dreams are Reality...Or are they?

Chapter 1: Staring Out a Window

I miss you.

I see you in the shadows of my room,

I feel you in the cold breath of a winter’s morning.

I hear you in the chatter of happy friends.

I wish you weren’t gone,

Because I can no longer feel

Your hands on my shoulders.

Nor the taste of the drinks

We once shared together.

Staring out of a window

As the clouds roll on in

Wondering desperately

If you would have enjoyed it.

Seeing so many words

On a page of my favorite

Wondering desperately

If you would have laughed with me at it.

Tasting a new kind of dish

Filled with herbs and numerous spices

Wondering desperately

If you would have cried with me while eating it

Hearing a favorite melody

A song with so much percussion

Wondering desperately

Would you have played it with me?

Meeting old and new friends

Touch freely given among acquaintances

Wondering desperately

Would you have wanted to meet them as well?

...

And yet as much as I dream;

As much as I hope and I wish

With all my might to change that.

You never will.

[daily-dose-of-writing]

what use is war poetry // aug 2024

[mercurygray]

The Story of the End of the Story

By James Galvin

To keep from ending The story does everything it can, Careful not to overvalue Perfection or undervalue Perfect chance, As I am careful not to do in telling.

By now a lot has happened: Bridges under the water, No time outs, Sinewy voices from under the earth Braiding and going straight up In a faint line.

I modify to simplify, Complicate to clarify. If you want to know your faults, marry. If you want to know your virtues, die.

Then the heroine, Who resembles you in certain particulars, Precipitates the suicide Of the author, wretchedly obscure, Of that slim but turgid volume, By letting slip: Real events don't have endings, Only the stories about them do.

James Galvin, "The Story of the End of the Story" from Resurrection Update: Collected Poems 1975-1997.

[slugshop]

i was sitting under a shady tree today with like eight million pigeons swarming me, feeding them bird seed out of a bag the size of my actual torso

i was terribly self conscious about this ginormous monstrosity of bird food, but the darn thing was the smallest size they had and i really really love feeding wild pigeons

while i was busy worrying, a woman and three adorable little kids walked near me with a few pieces of bread since the memorial park is pretty popular for its birds

i know how much kids adore pigeons and i love fostering that adoration for nature, so i got up and dusted my pants off with a friendly wave and a sincere promise to stop hogging the birds

it made them laugh, as i had meant it to, and their smiles were terribly infectious. it would have been impossible not to notice the kids eyeing that ridiculous little bag of bird seed in my arm with the same sparkling eyes my little brothers always have when they want something very badly

so of course, with their guardian’s permission, i told them i had more than enough to share and held the bag their way

it felt really really nice, for a moment i was one of those kind strangers from kids books that makes a good difference in one of those soft ways that costs nothing but makes the world glow

i think there’s kind of something poetic in that?

the whole time i felt so silly and embarrassed that i brought so much to go alone, but it ended up being such a lovely day

i’m really glad i did, i hope we all manage to bring a little too much and find each other in those abstract ways that make us kind strangers to each other

[mnsc-nikyy]

Apaguemos las estrellas

con el mar roto y el océano frágil

estallemos el tiempo y

el espacio y convertirlo en sensibilidad

que sea un caos universal

Apaguemos las estrellas en el limbo

de la ciudad gótica impredecible,

tenue y cegada por las sensaciones

caminemos por el río desolado y triste,

que el arcoiris sea negro y el cielo sangre

y el viento terror pero llamativo;

Apaguemos las estrellas

y que la luz que se deje ver en las noches

sean atardeceres llenos de invierno

donde lo único que brille sea

lo que no cabe en las ruinas: usted.

-Mnsc

[spicyicymeloncat]

Goddddd adulting is so hard. People keep asking me if I have the [static noise] and I’m just like [windows error sound]

[meili-kese-anyaleko-old]

[g0ingb4tty]

I want to eat clear blue nail polish the kind that looks like the fish themed handsoap but in nailpolish form i just saw some it looks so delectable i need to consume it

but alas, my flesh and bone form will not take kindly to its content makeup, and i shall perish if i give in to my desires, so i am left longing for that sweet, sweet, inedible polish.

[randik-86]

The poison from your lips,

Have made me get addicted to you

Insatious need to have you constantly,

Has taken over me,

Intoxicating luscious sweet taste of your tongue...

©️randik86