Scribbles 'n Bits

Tag: wordpress poetry

  • Filthy

    Leave your scrap.

I am the excrement of the world. 
I crawl to the edge of the trash pile,
salt it with earth
and devour. 

Leave your disgust.

I am the crazy you loathe
and the strange you fear.
I sing platitudes 
like a skipped record, 
scratching the cliff holds for dear life.

Lay me in the dirt.

I suffocate there 
thousands of years
watching the strata pass.

Cast me your stones

and throw me in the pit. 
Belabor your glorious effort
at my humble expense. 
If all else fails, 

burn the witch.

  • Close Your Eyes, Passerby

    Close your eyes:
A tortuous path ‘round leaves,
a smoky inhale,
an acrid, honey exhale
smiling sweet in the pane.
It’s nice, they say,
when your eyes open
and that place you stay...
    The ocean at the end
of the lane, 
out there.
Quietly waiting
with the sun, we stare. 

Digging my own grave
inside a bottle of Jack.
Living life worth leaving
and it ain’t half bad.
Kill me with a smile;
never take it back. 

Don’t know what’s waiting,
passing through trees out there.
A hazy, white wolf 
with a welcome-home glare. 

A knock at my soul
hello to the ones who stay.
Chilling with my friends
fuck the rest away.

  • Lunch Break Microcosm

    Watch the ants wander
Cherries soften into earth 
Scattered leaves garnish

  • Sanctuary

    Cradle in the arms of pine needle anemone
Wash in the light of magnetic, bleach sand
The biochemical hum of gray matter overlapping white
Subtle lucidity of this square foot garden

Find your sanctuary,
Build your peace

  • Parasite Obsolete

    A novelty, 
she turns each page
with as much emotion as she reads. 
Petals pressed, feathers caught, 
stories from the back of the book;
pages no one else sees.
A leak in performance
held by drying wrinkles. 
I stared at each word so long,
clinging for dear life
to everything she whispered,
the slow march of typeface
across skin. 
Dangling by fear and craving
off the sidewalk’s end.

  • Honest Tea

    Of all the colors counting
my favorite one is you. 
I couldn't be more happy
if all the snacks were blue.
Statistically speaking - tongue tied - 
vomiting words, 
but all completely true.

  • Gravitate

    The first came from answer,
a place you'd least expect. 
The last place on earth
rest between your lips. 
A final question answered.
Where every person lay.
A journey finally ventured,
dead silence caught, 
magnificent 
and utterly afraid.

So rudely interrupted.
Destined, 
from the middle  
to the end of a line. 
The story not faded, 
but truly refined - 
a switchback no one knows. 
The last mark of ink.
An ‘x’ between your feet. 
Dig deeper still
until you sink beneath.