13.3k views, 2xBest Poetry Period. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind. |
Formerly: ‘Raised … in a memory’s dream’ I heard you say only one metaphor at a time — all you could follow am I dreams — when I don’t speak to you? artless? Let me keep this straight while working on another poem in my head… I see — crayons color mother… She hugs me. Appreciation? I draw another and another, lifelong to please her. Wish I could near you, merge with song. Everyone is mother, because… I chase something across a barren rug. Oh, there you are. I’m holding my drawing up… I remember you say everything is poetry…yes/no? Where there’s beauty is song? No reception… The purpose of these crayons? mother raised me wrong. she died. Indifferent, the song plays on. I surpassed into nothing but a void, living in a memory’s dream, recast into shapes like you, with eyes ears nose. You don’t follow this cryptic form of communication that lives in the untold — yet, visualize this incipient space? That’s me! That’s where I live! But (~none~) conceive what cannot be, that cannot bond to your atoms. 11/2023 41 lines, free form https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horror_vacui_(physics) : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horror_vacui_(physics)#Origin Can I breathe now? Wanted to end with an added line… I’m not living a dream? -or- I’m not even the memory of a dream. a little too… Afterthoughts: To exist is to be acknowledged? Earth is true purgatory. 11.30.23 last edit |