January 2010
1 post
miraclemen
Have you ever been deceased?
Or do you quickly fall to the knees?
Time’s value will soon fade out
rusted fortunes give rise to doubts
even the miraclemen won’t desire to wake
for the streets are filled with breeders of hate
I wonder if they can feel the sunny days?
And many moons from now, all the repairmen shall weep
their lack of work, keeping them in bed
the sun will switch...
December 2009
2 posts
capsized
i could just hand you the bottle
and none of the worries will be bothered
and when the hobo wears his Sunday clothes
we’ll all be ready to hear his story’s unfold
and his lucky cards, they’ll all turn up
coming from all men, will their praises erupt
singing shame, in the prettiest ways
will he always remember these lucky days?
does he know one day the clocks will turn...
not ice.
To the judges who’ve strained:
(and worked so hard)
I commend and embrace you,
but don’t you ever stray too far
Have you felt the weight of any dark?
or learned to embrace anyones heart?
don’t listen to all men’s remarks
I’ve even been spun back to the start
those lonely gypsies that seem to skip Mondays
they never miss the sun’s rays
(i don’t...
November 2009
4 posts
tree sounds
off the whispering coast of st. augustine
i silently met with my friend the sand
blanketed with blue to not be seen
salt hugging onto my hands
we’ve come to terms, so he offered me tea
i casually declined for my trust is thin
only the hillsides will I call my friends
choirs of voices, singing in leaves
all flowing the most beautiful harmonies
I’ve never noticed, not till the...
sea sons
shall then, we remain free?
living by our conjured decrees?
tell me, tell me, oh tell me
said the man to the chief
who shot his eyes halfway up
and dribbled into an empty cup
Does the moon not pull the seas?
he smiled as he fell to his knee’s
but me, I’ve heard these tales before
and breathed this uneasy breeze
i then saw the roof collapse
and the sky came crashing in
all...
sure enough
we’ll all be swimming in rainy days…
“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.”
– Ernest Hemingway
October 2009
2 posts
Jacob Spellhemp
Oh the trails we sing!
how they never cease to ring,
and the mirrors tell tailes;
yet hardly anyone cares
tell me, how can i see
to the very tops of the tree’s
if i could just find the right stream
flowing a steady of red wine
well i’d ask her to drown me.
carry me away, so softly
out of reach, from even the longest limbs
who try to save me, so gracefully
but I shall say to...
Sand
If sand floated through space;
it would have no where to wash up,
and no shorelines to taste
It would drift for years upon years,
until it reached some system’s field
and right before it burned into tears
I wonder how it would feel.