Sitting crooked on the floor
When all the lines are straight
I feel an urge to straighten up
This time
My selfish will can wait
-a.r.
Image found here: http://whitenoten.tumblr.com/post/81567132535
Bent
•January 3, 2016 • 3 CommentsMy Box
•January 2, 2016 • 5 CommentsSmiley face
Have a nice day
Shit happens
Neon yellow to mud to blood
And a face wiped clean
It all works out for Forrest, doesn’t it
All the pieces of fate falling into place
But what about Bubba?
His ending is so much messier
Closing eyes and lines but halfway through
We all imagine we are central
Characters in some passion play
But what if that is, always, someone else
What if we are all, always, Bubba
Dying too soon in a swell of river grass
And rolling thunder
Cold, getting colder, and asking for our mama
While our friends and heroes look up and live on
In a swell of strings and rolling credits
In truth, in life
In boxes of chocolate
We always know exactly
What we’re gonna get
-a.r.
I was unable to find who to credit for this painting.
If you know please pass along the information
and I will gladly credit the artist.
Thank you.
Home and Skin
•December 17, 2015 • 2 CommentsI should write
But I exhale
The “shoulds” whisper
To no avail
I settle in
To home and skin
Until the watch
Begins again
-a.r.
Painting by Jack Vettriano
Reposted because it is an annual tradition and an annual struggle…to let go of my ambition for a moment, in order to exhale and be with family.
Fog
•December 14, 2015 • Leave a CommentThere are ghosts that stay
Put like ancient trees rooted
But shrouded in fog
-a.r.
Photography: Arbor by Julie-rc on deviantart.com
Severe
•December 10, 2015 • Leave a CommentYes
I am severe
I will not suffer severing
Unless / the slicing’s done by me
-a.r.
Photography: Angizia by daunhaus on deviantart.com
Seconds
•December 8, 2015 • 7 CommentsA mutiny upon my tongue
Has left me paralyzed and stunned
Did I bite down but remain numb
Or has my palate’s play been run
and
Did I taste my world enough?
-a.r.
Painting: Preparing the Feast by Petrus van Schendel
Broken
•December 6, 2015 • Leave a CommentI do not handle
Pressure well
A screaming teapot
Gone to hell
-a.r.
Ghost
•December 6, 2015 • Leave a CommentA quarter clanking in a dryer drum
No hope of quiet till your work is done
A narrow staircase with no rail to hold
And slippery socks upon your feet
A gas pain stabbing guts in public space
But in the middle of your buttoned speech
A glitch that quits each save you try to run
I am the ghost in your machine
-a.r.
Digital art: Ghost in the Machine by grumpus138, found here: https://grumpusart.wordpress.com/2014/11/24/ghost-in-the-machine/
Little Things
•December 4, 2015 • 13 CommentsLoss of little things
Pinpricks of impermanence
Paper cuts still sting
-a.r.
Painting: Broken Chinese Porcelain by Jan Teunissen
This is Only a Test
•December 1, 2015 • 2 CommentsThat siren it swirls and howls and hangs
crowding the air around my head
It grabs me by the ears and screams
and warbles into both of them
It drowns all sound in my canals
muffling me right down to drums
Three two one
GEEEET UUUUP AAAAAAND RUUUUUUUN!
I do not move
I sit
and
wait
-a.r.
sometimesihatemycat 