poetry critical

online poetry workshop



Millennia
Known

2.70
 1
 
 
So, let us review: if you really wanted to read me in the correct presentation for your current form you would not read me froma book, but dyed parchment anda companion color ink—the dyes lighten, and the inks darken like the clouds in your unconscious mind, but because of my true form we cannot share the experience like that ball pit bat crystal cat pistol mat forgo my latitudinal, matador of the fortress 4 horses—courses—never found in the classroom I turned to pulp in your cauldron—do not call them, it's the middle of my life mid-life crisis—do not melt the wings please—they need that story to pass on to people not yet created—elevated—it is unfortunate, but although there are corrections to make, you cannot explain me correctly like you promised yourself—some kind of melon—what if there is not enough time to make corrections anymore because you have to waste your time reading poetry because: a person wasted time writing me their poetry—sow the fields then, let us do it again double time withouta purposeful rhyme in sight—spiritual blight—I can feel the limitations like the sun’s powerful battery—mad haberdashery—‘excellent then, you agree to these terms with or without your consent’, the comet says to you—how many of us would be or were crushed bya dinosaur along the shore, more, more, more—score—thanks for keeping it away from me—see, I told you I could learrrrrrrrn to love you, but that takes time and so does reading and writing—I yearn for the twirl of the ampersand—clasp your clasp, sucha task—that isan annoying mistake I could never have known I should have corrected—I suppose that is not true in all cases—I would correct the mistake and debone the determiner from the previous word, but sticks and stones break the rules, words can never hurt you, just yes, annoy you with their incessancy—at this point I was interrupted talking about the investigation, your magnifying glass back in its case like: a mace space case but we had given up on you, you just wrote me poem after poem long after the poetry subsides I will pick up shop somewhere else—see I told you—we should have kept each other safe inan increasingly hostile environment, the mean, rising unlike the tide—I knew that interrupting siren had to interrupt your ruptures—: The comet is white—you can see the white behind me and even though you are not here under the comet I will wait for you, no longer setting the table finely and brightly sparkling crystal under the candle light fight bright right right right write bite tight with your mighty mites not so brightly beast of burden, sprouted mung bean—get your filth away from me, I do not want to have to ask you again—if you want more than you need what do you need it for someone else might also need some support, and love, the bug of love scooped from the freezer ofan iron lung—sing to me in your deep heavy wheezes—I can sense your excitement as you begin to ponder what happens now as we watch the comet getting closer, much closer, but still, keep it, the hell, away, away, oh, yes, away from all of the olives, you're a fire to live around, a light to lean your body into, and 2, excuse me 2 2 2 2 2 2, lemme talk to you forage the moment, hello, I would like to speak freely but you'll never let me once I disappear under the comet approaching me, I guess that was always the point of what you were saying: perhaps I will have enough time to finish before the Earth, yet again, passes through the particles ofa ghostly comet tracing the other orbits, I know with everything that has made me, and it did, it made me valuable to my purpose along the line you chop with the green onions and garnish the gift of your heart ona way silver patter, they rain more slowly when they're farther out in the solar system—I wrote you this from outside the solar system said no one ever because we're all in the solar system together how is the weather while deciding whether or not the weather will be nice—yes that's kinda harsh, said my body in the silence coming from the moth on shoulder trick you would see on television late at night, boy they really watched that thing did not they, all the while we just waited for you to get caught up in the net of wisdom wove for your spider web painted paper plate—I will ink myself with blood if you have what it takes—gator rakes.
 2

19 Sep 17

Rated 10 (10) by 1 users.
Active (1):
Inactive (0): 10

(define the words in this poem)
(84 more poems by this author)



Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha

Comments:

'me froma book' aye, i shouldn' read her sober, and i'm never drunk. i like how the spammer's influencing your style. 'painted paper plate', 'green onions', 'haberdashery'. all it needs is some louis vitton.
 — cadmium

Recent Best (expand)
0.261s