Divine patience
Calligraphy pens
My spine feels tense
But normal again
There’s something in this
Wave of rememberance
That reminds me of you
In the end
-Makena rain
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The Sri Lankan Frogmouth (Batrachostomus moniliger) wants to know how it’s already 2019!? Also known as the Ceylon Frogmouth, it’s native to the tropical forests of its namesake country, as well as to southern India. This peculiar-looking bird has a head that’s as wide as its body, with a squat, ample beak. The Frogmouth is a nocturnal hunter that goes on the prowl for insects, such as grasshoppers and moths, upon nightfall.
Photo: Kalyan Varma
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the frozen road
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gaia
i’ve dwelt
in the zeniths
of your sacred
experience,
scoured
your secret
places,
and made
my abode in
the shadow of
your darkness,
surviving the
flood
of your pain.
i’ve seen
our bridge,
with remedial
mission,
crumble like
twigs where
the flame is.
i’ll soon
be gone in
a million years,
but your
paths will
remember my
name.
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site that you can type in the definition of a word and get the word
site for when you can only remember part of a word/its definition
site that gives you words that rhyme with a word
site that gives you synonyms and antonyms
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chased
Wow look at your face baby
You have the most lovely face
To me
my eyes may seem frightened
that’s because you see me
Trust me before we’re flying
I can go alone,
I don’t want to be
Below the ground is crying
But i want it to be free
Can we try
One time
to climb the mountain
Tell me why
Once you speak to me
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A quick poem
Sex.
These are just words.
Tired.
Request, a quest, a question...
Dancer in my ear
Quietly listening, pistol finger
Tell me the answer
Fingering notes on a piano
Chords, key, progression
If you know what I’m saying
No one does.
Try and read that a few more times.
Bitch.
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quail
Little lascerations
In my smile
from fare fascination
For equal little while
A mile I stalk my shadow
Sweeping up behind him
On the already dirty ground
A quake reminds the earth
of something never found
A face that sends me crying down the gladiolas.
Rows that do not end
Colors like my madness
from the something clever said
Quoting, taking care of children’s broken hands
like the sky- the house is red
A quail is nested then again
No more stealing birds from here
Clover bed to rest your head
My dearest little dear
Whom has broken her gentle fingers
on a quail who once had rested here
His neck is snapped, and busted.
the only one that bested her
have a listen, give an ear
all you have and had and need
is here
my sweetest dearest little dear.
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“I like a man who wears his soul on his face.”
— Jim Morrison
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sleep is for the living
Tonight I think I want to die
- me sleeping for 4 hours
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your song;
whenever my fingertips kiss the hard veneer of the frets, lacing the utmost desire of rippling the sound of silence through a sacrifice, i think of how vague you come to me; so uncertain. so sudden. so unclear. you made me pick up the guitar i had since i was thirteen, and ever since had been upright the wall waiting for the distinction of time to be played again. you wrought me to burst open a rabbit hole to a parallel universe where you hide with a single rose hiding in your cloak of mysteries. and though i still sense the lingering pain down the tips of my left hand, i continue to stroke the same chords, slide round frets to frets hoping you would sustain. i know you. i know you. i, i know you’re just another figment of my imagination. and it is clear to me that in the moment i’ll choose to stop, you’d be gone before i ever deemed you were gone.
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