spilledwoords
“Poetry burns in our hearts with the passionate heat of a lover’s embrace.”
Tag: hope
Dreamland
Dreamland’s gate is not lockedeven those betrothed to miseryride in the delight of the Wright brothershug princes in a wanton relishrevel in well-styled buffetwhile their empty bowels groan timidly. Dreamland’s gate is not locked,a land lush in lithospheric beautyof bright hues spread vastlyseparated by… Continue Reading “Dreamland”
HOME
No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark Panic is spreading: you only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well your neighbors running faster than you. Memories are coming back: the boy you went… Continue Reading “HOME”
Recent Posts: spilledwoords
Weapon
The will to power destroys the power to will.The weapon made, we cannot help but use it;it drags us with its own momentum still. The power to kill compounds the need to kill.Grown out of hand, the heart cannot refuse it;the will to power undoes the power to will. Though as we strike we cry […]
Silent, but ….
I MAY be silent, butI’m thinking.I may not talk, butDon’t mistake me for a wall. Copyright © Tsuboi Shigeji | Translated by Geoffrey Bownan and Anothony Thwaite | 1964
Olokun
I love to pass my fingers(As tide thro’ weeds of the seaAnd wind the tall fern-fronds)Thro’ the strands of your hairDark as night that screens the naked moon: I am jealous and passionateLike Jehovah, God of the Jews,And I would that you realiseNo greater love had womanFrom man than the one I have for you! […]
Don’t Urge Me
“Entreat me not to leave you,Or to turn back from following after you;For wherever you go, I will go;And wherever you lodge, I will lodge;Your people shall be my people,And your God, my God.Where you die, I will die,And there will I be buried.The LORD do so to me, and more also,If anything but death […]
Wait Not
Wait not, fond lovershe’d not give a waiverwho took your placefind yourself another,let your memories bank not on me;your fantasies are free to roam. Wait not, fond lovershe – I dwell now inher river like a fish;she’s a taunting schemerthat wouldn’t unshackleor make me free. Desire me less in the nightturn the page, don’t writeanother […]
