Hi-ho and hello.
Poetry Day
Dying
By: M. R. Vega
A scratch at my neck, a headache at the spine, start from the top try not to rewind.
Set to a tempo of four to six to two to eight, and take, take the gentle remedy for my migraine hurricane.
A scratch at my heart, a tickle in my lungs, take me to your middle, take my soul to rest.
Letting my soul take a beating, letting my heart take a lashing, a scratch at my head and my lungs, biting searing of iron on my tongue.
A scratch at my neck a headache at the spine, stop from the start and try not to rewind.
Spin for five, go back three spaced, taking a sidestep to the past, always seemed easier, when coming back to now, but it kills, kills, the heart stuck so far, far away.
A tickle to the mind, a pang at my lungs, a pierce at my heart, press play and let’s take it day by day, let the migraine take the say, take the pain, let’s hit play and go away, away, away.
Confusion
By: M. R. Vega
Having a gift, after their offers to those of others. A seller you’d need to be, looking still, looking to read the outcome of this case.
A simplistic location for change that they, there to inform the case, to pound, to hound, be high, be-kind get in, in the very king pass, peace for the past, call me one, hello phrase back, repeat to myself no repeat, no reset.
A tickle bracing to the hazing of constraints, lessening of grasps, take heed and a glance. We call to the murder, a crow caws for shelter and the hunger grows, grows to the murdering foes fluttering above caw, caw, caw, a-ha-ha-ha.
We huddle, we befuddle, we tremble, and we shudder to think that there’s nothing more than this to be for those of a murder fluttering above, caw, caw, caw, a-ha-ha-ha.
We stumble and run to mutter the phrasing that puts it all to slumber, we grasp and caress the daylight weather if only for a glimmer to be tomorrow, toward something apart from me and you so that we can find the thunder that rumbles within. Between, together. Between, together, for the murder, for the a-ha-ha-ha, between, together.
So, as of late, what I’ve been doing is I will put the mic in front of me. I will either listen to music or I won’t, and I just talk to the mic,maybe I’ll scream at it, whisper to it, but I just go on and then I edit and sometimes it becomes poetry, sometimes it becomes something else, sometimes it becomes something that will never meet the light of day. So welcome to my mind.
C’est La Vie
Good night and good morning, Good morning and good night. Thank you for coming time and again and supporting my blog. It means the world to me, thank you.
NOSCE TE IPSUM
Dream Dark Stories 