Tag Archives: writer

Desire

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Casey Weldon

Distant relations sit in waiting, eyeing the fray in astute attention

Denigrating their young for want of substance while toasting to their fill;

bottom’s up!

If not desire – you, y’all, youse guys – announce
naiveté in all steps forward;

graciously forgiving in your all-knowing published analyses:

left hand(s) holding
magnifying glass, right hand(s) smudged red in discontent…

How lucky one is to feel
present, to mature in blooming ecstasy!

Admired by the
collective witness; pieces of bouquet laid to waste in a

passerby’s pretty petal
plucking

The sun – hanging above soapbox
– in a state of egocentric pining;

woke in its awareness of
absolute necessity:

rebuking others’ flutterings
while savoring the understanding

They’ve said there’s a
fool’s will that keeps the light shining

Or perhaps, an innocence
in the depths of the frequencies a buzzin’

We travel deep – fingernails
extended from wing – scratching into an ethereal sense of purpose;

make-believing coincidence
after each last word has been written

Louder yet, metallic cries
continue to silent the patronage:

Flying, failing; a
traveler seeking only to feel self in a familiar existence

I am grateful for Spring

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Shadows

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Unknown

I awoke refreshed, mangled but content

Fire still burning but weakening; smoking ash

Desiccation of flesh left encrusted and cracked

Top layers curling, blisters long since absent

“You’ll never be recognized by anyone.”

I am the darkness surrounding the outer rim of thought

“Your reflection only seen as the byproduct of those who care to look”

I can feel tragedy in my blood clouding the way forward

I can’t get it out of my head
always in my head

God, such fucking nonsense

Is there really a god?

Because I can’t feel good here

Obsessing what could have been

Defending position based off of best judgment

What are these words anyway

Subjective bullshit to manipulate feelings

Knowing I can’t get it out of my head

always in my head
You, the ever elusive figure in the dark
Me, just someone standingin front of the mirror

I am grateful for Friday ❤

Office Lights

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City Street At Night Wallpaper Desktop Background by Stina Haglundh

 

In the dark of night, the city burned

Lamp haze illuminating out towards alleys and their mysterious corners,

Ordinary objects of notice depending on circumstance

Lining the drive forward one beacon after another

 

The car encapsulating our secret, you distant

Yellow windows arranged into faces peered down and I just kept thinking,

“how many of those poor lonely bastards are still caged in their towers?”

Whether intentionally or not

 

It was at this moment that my voice betrayed me

Completely consumed by the lit geometry of society

I didn’t feel your attention, didn’t hear your question

But there I was replying to something worth answering

“I hate it here.”

 

The last word trailing off into the hum of the car engine

Shadowy fingers of night reaching out and grabbing any response given,

I found myself silenced in the despair of confusion

Bewildered by my bizarre state-of-being

 

You kept driving to the center of everything

The weight of your hesitation creeping over the center console,

Isolating my thoughts to focus on sensing rather than seeing

As we always tend to do

 

Eyes glued to the graveled shoulder of pavement

Never daring to confirm if you were still in the car with me,

Knowing and questioning through the silence

Feeling insecure and lost in the absence

Thinking back, I’m not sure where I meant by ‘here’

The metropolis mirroring my favorites of experience,

Chicago, New York, Dublin, Miami

Visions design a conglomerate of what it is and what I’d like it to be

 

Claiming architect to discern the meaning, if any

Retelling the story as if there’s supposed to be an epiphany,

Over and over the memories tickle reasoning

As flashes of office lights dance behind my eyes

 

I am grateful for car rides ❤

see no future in the present

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….As we continue to ask the near and far

Who are you?

When the response is always

Me…You should have known by now….

 

Shadow fingers buried in mind, persuading thought to dream beyond the edges

Lemonhead wishes squeezing out juicy substance until there’s enough to drink;

With his sour mouthed staining back of hand to wipe away the taste before grabbing pen

 

A golden tool for a dedicated scribe, a powerful King of the abandoned

Irony lives on in the dead as we continue to play pretend in this fucking shithole;

Extra flutterings to penetrate those of yesterday who see no future in the present

 

I am grateful for art ❤

Insert Title VII

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I’ve taken out my pen at least ten times within the last ten minutes

Every time I set out to write a profound line or statement

The ink dries up and my mind wanders to numbered lists

 

Vibrational tinkering

Jingling

Repetitive nonsense

Off-key but

Playing its own

Dramatic melody

 

Been here before, balancing on the tightrope

Obsessing about answers when I don’t even know

I have really enjoyed perusing your train of thought

 

A little boy fell off of his bicycle

Scared and all alone

He grabbed the sidewalk for its warmth

But ended up getting burned

Crawling around on all fours

He forgot how to walk

Abandoned, hurt, and sick of himself

He never made it home

 

Scraping out the ash from the bottom

Lighting up and hoping for one more

Fingers burning but still I don’t stop

Finally, there is something to feel

If I were honest with you

Then I would have to believe myself

There are moments when I doubt everything

With too many thoughts to figure out

It’s always the last hit that

seems better than the next

 

The sun sets on restless minds

Attracted by shiny gems glowing

Ambers in the eyes of who’s looking

Momentary distractions demanding attention

Versus simply enjoying the moon

 

If dreaming were easy than more people would have less to believe

And less to think of as real

Even if reality is never something we understand

 

There’s a special price to pay for

Being above all of the rest:

Creatures hovering through the rain

But never getting wet

Watching the animals below as they scatter

Shielding their faces with the backs

Of their hands

No attention to what’s overhead

As they run for cover

 

Even if the rain falls

Creating sad, long lines down the pane

I can still find myself

On the other side looking in

 

I am grateful for fluffy snow ❤

Midwest Winter

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Devoting self to voice for a moment

In trying to interpret this introspection
Noticing the land ahead lays bare, dead in winter
With memories of golden shoots of grain to haunt the road
and the passengers within the constraints of the pavement
It is here that our World becomes isolated within the embrace of Love
As ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’ plays on the stereo
Adding to the absurdity of contrast in us versus everything else
I find myself loving you more with experience
Perhaps it’s only when I stop thinking to take notice
That this is what happiness means to me
I am grateful for being on the road ❤