Scribbles 'n Bits

Tag: scribblesnbits

  • Hero Complex

    Please wipe 
the stars 
from your eyes.
I took a bullet - 
saved your life - 
not because 
I value yours,
but because
I do not value mine.

  • Red Shift, Blue Shift

    The sundial stuck,
an indecisive thing;
ticking perpetually 
on the same, old second. 

Let the world turn;
for once lick its own wounds.
Let the majestic sea turtle
hurtling between cosmic gases,
make its own peace  
with the monkeys on its back.

  • Compartments

    It's not your fault. 
You live in a
cardboard shanty town,
a little box,
in my head
alongside everyone else.

  • Candid

    I love that. I want it in a Tarantino film.

  • She, Herself, and I

    A coarse flight of reds
bedazzled her sly impression - 
the harder they come. 
A reliable mistress
with a harshness worth revitalizing -
a gambit
worth falling for.

  • The Final Rising

    “Here lies a man
    who laughed at everything,”
    a speckled, gray stone declared.
    The name “Ulta Mareis”
    sunk into its brow.
    “Even his own pain,”
    a woeful voice agreed.
    Faceless and gowned in black,
    uproarious laughter broke through
    solemnity
    as they dropped their flowers.
    Loudest and highest of all,
    when the last rose
    found its resting place;
    Ulta Mareis gave his last laugh.

  • Collared Green

    Long swings of outrage
to apathy,
cries the pendulum.
Settling low,
windmills blinking as one. 
The man in the high collar
staring down burnt ends
of a smoke trail,
looks up and smiles,
“Well, now.”

  • Curated Gems

    Depth without complexity,
confidence without grandiosity,
humor without nihilism,
yearning without apprehension. 

Naturally lit, 
unfiltered, 
organic, 
palatable perfection -
no less, no more.

  • Clad

    Give me one more
blustery good night.
More
of a past,
dead silence
spoken from dark moon’s hollow bite. 
Down below
where I like it.
Down below,
an ill fate sealed tight.

  • Another Compromise

    Awakening on its journey,
a smell of slight decay.
Leaves sloughing from the canopy. 
A zombie losing the safe promise
of summer fruits.
Scurry and hurry to the beat
of a sacred, albeit fatalistic, 
yearly routine.
Close to where we started,
but no less sweet to see,
the two by two's; the families; 
their long sleeves