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Literature Text
Picture me Polis
Dare not picture me you
Cities from ashes
eschewed by those Delphian fumes
I bought a batch of botched grievances
with a finger on the pulse
yet never where the agreement is
Even when
pigeonholing serves to placate the pigeons
Chalk it up to our hospitable world
but its inhabitants battled escrow for avarice
to raise a generation
of kids who hate their mothers
and the psychotherapists still babble about Oedipus
Evidence
that we built our roads with stolen pavement
and our social contract states
that you can keep ardor
if you use everything else
to suffice as your down payment
Picture me Polis
Dare not picture me you
Cities are falling
and only now can chaos ensue
Dare not picture me you
Cities from ashes
eschewed by those Delphian fumes
I bought a batch of botched grievances
with a finger on the pulse
yet never where the agreement is
Even when
pigeonholing serves to placate the pigeons
Chalk it up to our hospitable world
but its inhabitants battled escrow for avarice
to raise a generation
of kids who hate their mothers
and the psychotherapists still babble about Oedipus
Evidence
that we built our roads with stolen pavement
and our social contract states
that you can keep ardor
if you use everything else
to suffice as your down payment
Picture me Polis
Dare not picture me you
Cities are falling
and only now can chaos ensue
Literature
If
We can
draw lines and give them names
like elements
as they are discovered
Or etch into our skins
this soloecal desire
until it is impossible to tell
where words stop
and life begins.
I would
Find a common rhythm that includes
you in my arms, my hands
and lungs and thoughts
tracing the outline of you
entangled with me
colliding like two lost particles
locked in a shared gravity
drifting through the vacuum
of space.
I could.
Exhale, and
remember
sentence structure.
Literature
shhh
we are lurking too close to jesus,
on the empty edge of a lightless stage,
curved nails digging into the skin of our pale palms.
he asks as an afterthought
do you believe in something holy? and i think yes,
i think this is what i believe in.
Literature
despondent
i.
"are you sleepy today?"
"yes."
"but you were sleepy yesterday."
"i know."
ii.
she stirs her pomegranate green-tea until it turns from clear to purple
setting it on her bedside table and climbing back into bed again.
her fingers follow the bluer-than-usual constellation veins on her wrists and down
to the freckle on her forearm and then the scar on the inside of her elbow
crossing the tendon as if it were crux.
and then she remembered that God hasn't been with her lately.
iii.
today is long and sunny but when she steps outside the humidity creaks her bones
and her skin starts to inflame.
she assumes that if getting the mail
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© 2012 - 2024 maxusphinneas
Comments1
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This is much better than your other poem by letting up a little bit on the tough words used too frequently. The ones you do use in this one are more understood opposed to the ones used in your other poem too.
Thank You for your submission.
Siryan - Founder of Poetrys-Renaissance