Litkicks Message Board Archive

word swing

Posted to Poetry




this is
is this poetry this is
is this my choice?
i am riding on the tide of a word swing.
i am riding on the tide of a word swing.,
indistinct phrases hitting me in the back
of the neck and i can't keep track to check
out where they're coming from and i am
anything but numb, my heart beat dear
inside my chest, the rest of the world
in their own worlds and i can attest
that nobody really knows me, nobody
really knows anybody really, i don't know you
or him or her or any one else and i forgive myself
for the omission, i forgive myself for when
i don't listen and when i do, i renew my faith
in which often comes late, the very aware
i proclaim, though blind.

i have lived inside
of trafalmador.
i have been caged.

i bring exhibits of absolute
necessity to screw it alls
out of mouths of babes
while waving
surrender, flag white,
tight on the pole, me,
the paranoia
retreat.

if i don't cry at least once a day
i am not alive. if tears don't clear
the way to a new idea, i would rather
writhe in the blather of idiots.

i am riding on the tide of a word swing.
i am riding on the tide of a forgiving phrase.
i am riding on the tide of a maintainance
made by imagination.

i forgive myself
for imagining.
i forgive my vision.
i forgive the peace
impossibility

i lose my temper at myself.
i beat myself up. i trip on
the cup of java i spilled,
caffienne possibilities
swilled to be skated by.

and i don't know why
i have nothing else to say
at this time but slime
can be like that
when it comes to
a lizard.

i try not to think too deeply.
it scares me so.
and if i do, sometimes, i stop
as quickly as the dart atop the thought.
i hate to lose my temper.
that's one thing that i know.

but this is just poetry or not
or some choice of words connected.
i am riding on the tide of a word swing.
i am riding on the tide of a word swing, r
not yet inspected.

indistinct phrases hitting me in the back
of the neck and i can't keep track to check
out where they're coming from and i am
anything but numb, my heart beat dear
inside my chest, the rest of the world
in their own worlds and i can attest
that nobody really knows me, nobody
really knows anybody really, i don't know you
or him or her or any one else and i forgive myself
for the omission, i forgive myself for when
i don't listen and when i do, i renew my faith
in which often comes late, the very aware
i proclaim, though blind.