Of "I Saw the Dead"

In the corner of a waterlogged, rusty room, I saw the dead.
I don't mean to say I saw a corpse
but in his eyes was the deadest, most barren cry of futility
that ever I saw.
It was strange
to find the dead in the midst of a dead place
all covered in gashes and brownfield waste
with lice so thick they were a wig.
It was strange
because the setting was too perfect
too overflowing with barrels and chicken feathers and mice that cried of abandon.
But the most dead thing about him
was his absence of life, in one so young
who without the lice and tatters and brownfield waste could easily
pass as a living thing
there was a discomfort in seeing dead brown eyes
brown like all the rest of him, certainly
but brown where there should have been light.
Yes, there is no doubt he was dead
because he'd lost the will to live.

Of Weariness

Wow, three posts in two days! This must be a record. This poem was inspired by one thing we all know and love: exam week. I might have dramatized it a little, but in my defense, studying for 6 tests is hard work! Can't wait 'til next year, when it'll just be harder. Empathize and enjoy.


I am weary, my dear
Not the fleeting sleepiness that drifts onto us
Before we close our eyes
No, love, it's the other kind
It's the weariness of being locked in a room with no doors
But the ghosts are still seeping through the cracks
Oozing their way through the creaking, rotting wood
To grasp at my heart
My weariness is such, my dear, that all the snow
That has been falling ever so lightly these months
Has pressed against the roof, caving it in
Pouring through the shafts
Releasing the frigid breath of the night
Hanging on the edge of my tongue
Running through my fibers
Letting all the ghosts in
And all I can do is sit there

<3

Of altered books II

Here's another altered book. These are fun sometimes when you're feeling dry. The words are already there; it's just your job to repurpose them. It's a good exercise. This is one I did and really liked.

Of The Cliffs

Alright this one's rather mediocre. Rougher than some of the others I've posted. Obviously needs work. But I think it has some nice lines. Tell me what you think!

I want to be there on the cliffs
Looking at the moon across the sea
Watching the never ending waves
As they drift slowly, slowly away from me
In their parabolas of shadow
And the moon hitting them just right
Dotting the sea with glints of silver
Pockets of depthless shining light
And to sit there by the seaside
Only the surf on the rocks to speak
Calling softly in the abyss of nighttime
Just the moon, the sea and me

This one also seems to be a follow-up, in a way, to my poem "The Waveless Sea." Perhaps that's just me. The rhyming, cadence, theme of the sea...I just really like those elements, I suppose! :)

Of Fleetingness

I grasped it for an instant
Felt like the sea spray against my face
Pounding the rocks with a boom like dynamite
Fresh like nothing before
But then Master Sand came
And blew it all away
Like thin strands
Seeds that had not yet grasped roots
And I drifted away into mindless sleep

Of Fear

Oh how dark the world is
Before the sun comes up
And oh how deep the sea is
Too deep for any cup
But a dark world presents itself
In mysterious ways
There's something new to explore
On every single page
And a deep sea hides mysteries
In its silken waters
So maybe just the fear itself
Is really the only problem?

Of A Writer's Written Word on Writing

To write, oh, to write is to get up from bed
Let your spirit soar above your head
Dream the undreamable!
Think the unthinkable!
I know it's cliche, but it borders unwritable
To write the unwritten, what can't be wrote
Is the sweetest song in a songbird's note
To write is to free, restrict, simply to breathe
Unbreathe the air, breathe in the world
Breathe the breath that breaches the barrier
Let yourself go, connected by sever
The cord, the chord that ties you to song
Song of the living, the unliving, the dead
The word isn't spoken for it to be heard
Sometimes it flies or swims like a bird
Go out to the Earth, go into yourself
Find the word, the word that's a song
Think, just think, let your spirit soar
Go into the song-land, the unwritable, the heart's true folklore


Inspiration: Walt Whitman, Song of Myself (http://www.daypoems.net/poems/1900.html)