iphone notes misc poetry jam sesh
Picara
Sliding her fingers into his chest,
smiling tumor swelling abreast.
Harpy Oh Harpy with all your might.
Banshee Banshee say goodnight.
Cut out my tounge
teach me to sing
Malachi Malachi who could be king?
Sparrow oh sparrow, give me your flight
Take me somewhere unsafe tonight
Like down to inbetween fox’s sharp grin
Or oer and oer the hills again
Picaro Desparo its your call
Treat me like your paper doll
Cut like through wafer my little dress
Color me pretty or color me mess
Cut out my tounge
And teach me to sing
Malachi Malachi who could be king?
——————————————————————————————————-
Castle Gaurdswife
Towers ‘pon towers all up’t night
Turns off ya powers an kiss me g’night
Lie my swee Lady down en yer head
Dont listen ta tha somthin move
down in er bed
Y’ hear tha’ wigglin all soft in tha night
Silly muffle movein all down in tha night
Oh but poor feller dant strain yer ear
taint sumftin youer er’r meant ta hear
Floss mindear wit cotton nd mine wif yer fat
Floss wit tha cotton, o ple do me that
Push wif me gently ay! gentle yer pat
push in me all tha ugler years a yer fat.
Please understand everything is in you.
That everything is transmutable because everything is in you.
That you are transmutable because everything is in you.
That the world outside and the world within are equally as vast.
But only because you exist solely within-and-as your own bounds.
You are the sum of your machine
your shackles.
But everything is that, and you wouldn’t need or want anything else.
Its not about god, stars, demons or souls
Because everything is in you
Everything is in you
Everything is in you
And with that you can make the world magic
And with that you can withstand everything
Until you arent
Every time you see a new thing
You don’t grow new brain
Everything is in there
Every possible combination
The limits of your experience
Its in there
And you will never have more
One day you might have less
So fill yourself with yourself
Explore yourself to the outlying boundaries
And don’t blame it on god or magic or your best friend
Because you and only you are the universe
Everything is in you.
Finally! Someone who takes whimsy as seriously as I do
Delighting in coincidence
Knowing how to play pretend
Who has not forgotten how to be a child
While aware the unspoken secrets the world whispers to adults who listen
Who can smile with their heart—
all the more brightly—
at the deepest of rich dark spaces we paint jointly
On the road back to the burrow the rabbit noticed its previous footsteps. Attached to these footsteps ghost footsteps. Attached to those ghost footsteps were even more footsteps. As the rabbit mounted a hill, almost home, it came upon a great valley it had come across a few times before. Having walked all over this valley, the ground was covered in old tracks. Oozing out of these tracks were more ghost footsteps. The field looked like bad 3D and made the little rabbit nauseous. This was the place the rabbit was looking for.
A hawk flew overhead.
The rabbit could hear the memories in the soft indentations in the ground. The ghost footsteps whispered too, but this whisper was inaudible and indecipherable. Carefully the rabbit stepped in pairs of footprints. Checking them. Listening to their ghosts.
The hawk shrieked, alerting the rabbit of its presence.
“TRANSCEND”
The rabbit looked around in a panic. There wasn’t enough time to find what it was looking for.
“Please” said the rabbit politely, “just one moment, there’s something im supposed to find.”
The hawk laughed, a sound similar to grating metal against metal.
“Something youre SUPPOSED to find? Youre not supposed to find anything.”
“I know, theres just, I know theres something in here”
The hawk flys closer. The rabbit is aware of this and begins to rush its search. It exasperatedly finally finds the correct set of tracks. Tears well in its eyes as the familiar smells and sounds of this right remembered occurrence flood the rabbit’s consciousness.
“And why that one?” inquired the hawk, “dosent doing that hurt?”
It did. The rabbit listened hard for the information contained by the ever-spanning ghost footsteps. All possibilities lied in this point. A flood of so many things, the young rabbit was unsure of what was only itself and what was the truth of the realities it was tapping into.
“Did you find what you were supposed to find?”
“No, but its in here I think”
The rabbit listened harder, stomach churning.
“There isn’t anything to find, fool”
The hawk was done with this rabbit, it was a fool. The hawk flew off.
“But…” whispered the rabbit, “now how will I leave this spot?”
