I write so much poetry; follow accordingly. (he/him/y'all) *VIEWS ARE MY OWN AND NOT OF MY EMPLOYER* / DMs are open, but don't be weird / buy me a 🍺-> https://cash.app/$GFunkAllstar
there’s a world, far from this one, where i belong
some place where sight is among the seers
almost close enough to touch
teetering on discovery
where i belong
some place where the tears are dried
and the intentions are pure
some hidden island in the stream of reality
fit for lazy, smoky afternoons
i gave my love to the rain
offered on trembling hands under the deluge
i hoped the rain would make my love grow
i hoped in such wondrous fantasies like time
redemption
and joy
i gave my love to the rain
who never gave it back
who sighs over it against my roof
who cries over it against my window
I feel like with my current age and physical health, I’m barely qualifying as a grunt henchman, and nowhere near supervillain mastermind.
That’s a young villain’s game.
i gave my love to the rain
offered on trembling hands under the deluge
i hoped the rain would make my love grow
i hoped in such wondrous fantasies like time
redemption
and joy
i gave my love to the rain
who never gave it back
who sighs over it against my roof
who cries over it against my window
I will bang this drum forever: in THEY THOUGHT THEY WERE FREE: THE GERMANS, 1933-45 Milton Mayer interviewed 10 ordinary Germans after WW2 to learn how fascism took hold. There was never a moment when everyone woke up:
if you’re waiting for everyone around you to wake up, you’ll wait forever. this is how the people grinding our bones to make their bread WANT you to be. paralyzed, alienated & purposeless
i gave my heart to the birds of the sky
bloody and still beating
that they might take it far from me on strong wings
giving me some separation from it, its brokenness
as wings beat in the endless cycles of life
take it far away and let it find love
wherever that may be
let it find still peace
wish i weren't just another wayward
nautilus
closing up in darkness all those times
i fed failure a feast of misfortunes
and gave defeat more than symbolic victories
over me
wish the sound of a sad flute all flat
and beautiful
wouldn't describe these dull, beautiful
movements of this symphony
Look. Being real here. I would vote for the corpse of Bernie - WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S mind you - before I would ever vote for a Republican/conservative Democrat.
i gave my heart to the birds of the sky
bloody and still beating
that they might take it far from me on strong wings
giving me some separation from it, its brokenness
as wings beat in the endless cycles of life
take it far away and let it find love
wherever that may be
let it find still peace
i witnessed your beauty
the way it shone bright against the darkness
the way you danced against the tears
i witnessed you and your mysterious strength
all terrible and good
no longer wish to hold you in my list of righteous regrets
don’t want to know why you did it or why i let you
just wish you’d quit reminding me that it happened at all
kamala takes the stage as the presumptive nominee to the organ riff from “not like us.” the crowd goes wild when she says “our opponent, the certified lover boy? certified pedophile”
i gave my bare feet to the ground
and gave thanks there was ground to stand on
i complained inwardly at the dirt and uncomfortable textures
and gave thanks i could still feel them under my feet
i gave my bare feet to the ground
hoping roots might tether me to this life
probing for water and truth
i gave my bare feet to the ground
and gave thanks there was ground to stand on
i complained inwardly at the dirt and uncomfortable textures
and gave thanks i could still feel them under my feet
i gave my bare feet to the ground
hoping roots might tether me to this life
probing for water and truth
shout at the dark and listen for the sound to
collapse in on itself
muffling the sharp edges of your pain
the things you left undone
those tender words you couldn’t utter
no matter how much you tried
waiting for the oppression to lift
waiting for fear to fade into a quiet whisper
waiting like the rain waits for the last minute
before deluging the desert
opening parched earth, quenching dying thirst
waiting for the good times to return
for when the future was a promise
not just some empty threat
