Scribbles 'n Bits

Tag: Poetry

The poetic expression of my artistic and aesthetic pillars along with some choice mixed-media.

  • Bombs away!

    “Bombs away!” 
came the bombardier 
shouting to his captain.
“Bombs away.” 
his captain confirmed
low along the horizon.
“All that 
for one person?”
came the bombardier, again, 
though not one to question orders.
The captain thought it strange,
never one to question openly.
“Do you think”

-explosions rippled below- 

“do you think 
they’ll feel anything?”
For the first time, 
the bombardier wondered.
Only silence answered.
Bomb a building,
a tank, 
an army, 
any of many things;
they feel nothing.
One person, 



everything. 

  • Mementos

    Thoughts slip and fall.

Drops off a faucet, oh, 
damn indecent of them all. 
Naked strangers
strewn casually about. 
The world could care. 

drip

Forgive the interruption,
a minute at most.
Sign the form, and step
one toe onto the line. 

drip 

However you make your mark. 

drip 

Please, step one toe,
a harmless piece, 
into

yes,         there
       line 
and 
just 

drip 

       yes, see, 

drip 

never

so
   bad

drip


free

  • Tasseography

    Tired grow the eyes,
yet hunger fills the dreams.
Seconds dwindle daily
while life’s leaves steep.
Words I speak fairly, 

“None too fair,  
the lives we keep.” 

In the bottom,
the porcelain fine print, 
you wonder of the tea.
To smile sweet;
just grudge on,
or change indefinitely.

  • Static

    I count all my hair, 
stinging with electricity, 
ozone on my sleeve. 
A peat bog with water waist deep, 
moss on down the halls. 
Bouncing a voice long gone, 
“How do we breathe?” 
Escaping as we speak. 

Beautiful words confine me, 
a misery of mystery. 
Restless at the seams. 
A prison so lost friends won’t find me. 
How does this compare? 
Another kind of exposure. 

  • Tripping

    Where wild ones play.
In a jungle of laughing and longing.
Built over time
on overgrown mossy ground.
Filled with a soundtrack
of cackles in the dark. 
Strange and unrecognizable to them.
Though very much alone. 
Sounds to which 
they've kissed goodbye
all night long. 
Until trees fall and flowers wilt.
All noise fades. 
A cold, bare apartment
called home.
Never to see each other again.
So it feels.
Something she would call dramatic. 
To say the least.
Sometimes the most
better left unsaid.

  • Laced

    soon you'll see 
where lovers dreamed 
dust in the air 
smell of the free 
dreamers call home 
come back to me 
from last light gleamed 
come back to me

  • Catharsis

    My fears do I confess? 
Your tears do I let drown. 
Drops within a sea. 
Times I let you down.

  • The Perfect

    Who is she
and where?
His Clementine 
whispering in his ear.
Anytime there's no one near.
Who picks flowers for herself,
lighting candles for the night.
He turns to see her pretty face.
Either she is quick to react
or,
in reality, has no place.

  • A Thousand Little Eyes

    Either I stood in your shadow
or waited in your shade. 
A fly on the wall
buzzing about things to be made.
Now I see clearly
with a thousand little eyes.
Please leave these words,
how little you keep inside.

  • Excerpts from Morning View

    "For once it was nice:
shedding myself of the most boring aspects of my life. 
Which were, realistically, the most exciting parts
in the lives of others...

Before, I placed all my perception of beauty into wonder,
into imagining great features in great lands,
great feats by great hands.
Now I know,
it is not those who wander that are lost,
but those who wonder endlessly of where they could go."