FeralChild's Poetry Blog

I guess I should have a reason…

feralchildpoetry — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 21:30:00 +0000

I wrote Knowing You for no reason whatsoever.

KNOWING YOU

Knowing you

is like looking westward

for the sun to rise

only to embarrassingly realize

that it’s 5 p.m. and not

5 a.m.

like I had once thought

and truly believed.

I once owned a brown blanket with Goodwill stamped on it…

feralchildpoetry — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 01:37:44 +0000

I wrote 75 Months Later after discovering someone again…..wait for it…..75 months after we parted ways. It was a pretty pathetic way to express my utterly pathetic feelings about someone who gave so much only to receive so little from me.

75 MONTHS LATER

It was the inside of midnight that thought of you the most.

…through cobwebs of our past life,

…under brushes of lost hopes forgotten,

you somehow managed to make it to me.

Some sort of ghost from Faraway skilled in translucency.

The morning somehow remembered your voice

and felt the warmth of your breath

covering me like a Goodwill blanket in my most confusing time.

I sadly only know where I should be

when only playing make-believe.

The evening imagined the scent of your hair.

How it must have lingered in the air

waiting for the perfect moment to remind me

that you were once around.

Your voice now, of course, silent sound.

The night never forgot to find guilt as it should.

It even knew that the thought of your touch

would melt away all my rational reason.

Leaving me spent upon sheets that were wet.

Needing a moment to catch my breath.

…and eventually midnight thought about you again

while never forgiving me

for this endless cycle

I’m putting it

through.

I took a picture of Timothy’s wood sketched signature years later…

feralchildpoetry — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 17:56:23 +0000

This is my poetry blog.

I’m doing this to realize who I am or maybe who I was. I’ve lost sight of a lot of things these past few years. I hope to learn how to see those things again.

I wrote In Mood Cupfuls while in college. I had just spent Halloween alone for the first time in my life and I had no one to call. I was just realizing how much alone we all actually are in the world. The feeling was strange for me. I’ve come to enjoy it.

Timothy was my first flirtation with apocalyptic themes. I love the thought of zombies and deserted cities.

I don’t remember writing On Immortality but I know I did. Yes, the last sentence is very cliche but damnit, it works for me.

The three poems seem to belong together not only due to their length but also because of the way they feel…

A FESTIVAL OF SECONDS

IN MOOD CUPFULS

The hot chocolate decides to burn my throat

as my eyes look to the mantle to see

spaces strange filled all about me

with empty cubicles echoing that,

“without you here so little is hope.”

“Without you here so little is hope.”

Then the hot chocolate remembers and again burns my throat…

/TI’-ME-THE/

timothy was here

i can feel his presence

no form but black dust now stands

timothy i fear

you’ve taught us a lesson

god gives rewards for the stupidity of man

ON IMMORTALITY

A very precarious situation.

A stick swept away by the tide.

I cry for a second

but except no fold

for I know even Evergreens must die.