We made these rivers
for cars. Houses on dry land
drown in our mistakes.
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We made these rivers
for cars. Houses on dry land
drown in our mistakes.
Alack and alas!
Spirits drop as waters rise
May the deluge end
September
A slow crescendo
of acorns, and leaves tickled
with red and orange.
Packing
My existence in
boxes: square, contained. Signs of
internal struggle.
Arrival
I am in a box,
but there's a view, and ladders
for climbing higher.
What to leave behind
Memories, like fading dreams
Or a legacy
I don't wish the rain
would go away. It just needs
to go somewhere else.
I've found a theme for Haiku
And though all of a sudden:
"Why don't I make one?"
Welcome back to the
grind, diving through revolving
doors like teeth through gears.
At 9/7/17 02:21 PM, TaintedLogic wrote: Welcome back to the
grind, diving through revolving
doors like teeth through gears.
Part of the machine,
We go about our daily
lives, hamsters on wheels
At 9/8/17 09:38 AM, BoxerBraydog wrote: ...anybody there?
I'm here. I wiggle
my toes, palms face up. Yoga,
except I'm asleep.
At 9/8/17 09:38 AM, BoxerBraydog wrote: ...anybody there?
Existentially,
Are any of us really
Here at all? Perhaps...
At 9/8/17 09:38 AM, BoxerBraydog wrote: Why am I alive
Somebody just flatten me...
...
...anybody there?
Forces crushing you...
Hope dangling precarious
For you to hang on
Hold tight to the good
Depression, that coward thief
Devil seeks to steal
At 9/8/17 03:01 PM, BoxerBraydog wrote: That was fricken beautiful!
All the glory to God and not me! :)
Ben Jonson once said
Time is an old, bald cheater.
I think he was right
I hit a deer
Windshield wipers smear
blood like a red carpet. She
limps away, gasping.
Emojis are fun,
But use them responsibly,
Unlike the movie
Went to the ocean
So immeasurably vast
Where sea and sky meet
A day at the lake
Caught some fish for my dinner
Eating well tonight
Down to the river
To cleanse my immortal soul;
Wash the world away
Out across the pond,
A flock of birds taking wing
Wishing I could fly
I sat by the stream
And nature surrounded me,
My mind wandering
Can you see it, too?
The entire universe in
A drop of water
Sweat
Encased in gleaming
weight, embedded by tired straits.
Third floor workout room.
To err is human,
But we can learn from mistakes
And not repeat them
To forgive, divine
Why hold on to resentment?
Life is far too short
The voice in my head
tells me to go out and play;
but my friends are gone.
Annoyed, it tells me
that I'm hungry and need food,
but the fridge is bare.
It says I should walk
Out the door, into the yard,
But the door is locked.
The voice is not mine,
And it's not always happy,
But I must listen.
That is the downside
Of being the avatar
In an Xbox game.
How to get everyone in a large auditorium to turn and give you disapproving glances
Pause in the music.
Whispers slip off my tongue like
snakes, echo forever.
First day of Autumn?
Surely you must be joking
It's over ninety
At 9/22/17 09:29 AM, ChronoNomad wrote: First day of Autumn?
Surely you must be joking
It's over ninety
Sixty-one. Maine knows
its firsts, but more summer days
will sleep-walk here soon.
Another hot one,
But the leaves are still changing
Trees don't understand
Wouldn't be so bad
If we could get a little
Rain to end this drought
A cricket sings, distant lull —
Melancholic requiem
In a timeless fall.
Pressing snooze, but I'm
already in class, riding
on anticipation.
Of what? The weekend,
maybe. College is supposed
to give life purpose.
Does it? Only in
an academic sense. But
humans are social.
Slipping into a
vacation's looming promise.
Little work is done.
Rain falls with purpose
Upon the dry, thirsty earth;
A calming rhythm
Wake up sober
Can barely reach for the alarm
I gave up on one more day