My Spine Is But Simplicity.

disposableme: The anonymous boy on the train is at it again.

Thu, 27 Sep 2012 17:24:45 -0400

disposableme:

The anonymous boy on the train is at it again.

"who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you” ― E.E. Cummings"

Mon, 28 Nov 2011 19:08:03 -0500

““who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you”
― E.E. Cummings”

Photo

Sun, 13 Nov 2011 16:48:52 -0500

One of my current favorites.

Sun, 13 Nov 2011 16:47:53 -0500

One of my current favorites.

An Haiku.

Sun, 13 Nov 2011 16:42:46 -0500

Your tears are like mine,

speaking tangled poetry

for the one who hears.

Photo

Sat, 02 Jul 2011 17:25:33 -0400

nettierharris: Bree-Nettie Harrishttp://bryonnah.tumblr.com/...

Sat, 02 Jul 2011 17:22:00 -0400

nettierharris:

Bree-Nettie Harris
http://bryonnah.tumblr.com/
Dallas,TX

"Simplicity is the final achievement. After one has played a vast quantity of notes and more notes,..."

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:59:00 -0400

““Simplicity is the final achievement. After one has played a vast quantity of notes and more notes, it is simplicity that emerges as the crowning reward of art.”
Frederic Chopin”

This song has been stuck in my head for weeks now. It’s...

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:44:56 -0400

This song has been stuck in my head for weeks now. It’s time to pass it on.

Photo

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:40:35 -0400

My favorite E.E. Cummings

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:36:42 -0400

“i like my body when it is with your

body. It is so quite new a thing.

Muscles better and nerves more.

i like your body. i like what it does,

i like its hows. i like to feel the spine

of your body and its bones, and the trembling

-firm-smooth ness and which i will

again and again and again

kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,

i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz

of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes

over parting flesh … And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new.”

………………………………………

“XVII

Lady, i will touch you with my mind.

Touch you and touch and touch

until you give

me suddenly a smile,shyly obscene

(lady i will

touch you with my mind.)Touch

you,that is all,

lightly and you utterly will become

with infinite care

the poem which i do not write.”

…………………………………………..

“i will wade out

till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers

I will take the sun in my mouth

and leap into the ripe air

Alive

with closed eyes

to dash against darkness

in the sleeping curves of my body”

Photo

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:34:47 -0400

"I’ve cried, and you’d think I’d be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and..."

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:19:33 -0400

““I’ve cried, and you’d think I’d be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.”
Conor Oberst”

Your Touch Is A Stage.

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:18:06 -0400

The hollow construct of a petty mind

Dishonest symphonies inter-twined.

Run deep with fear, with lust, with rage.

Cage my heart, dear,

Your touch is a daze.

Choreographed to the motion of satin and lace

Extended through ecstasy, keeping apace.

Poised with strength, with focus, hauteur.

Cage my heart, dear,

Your touch isn’t pure.

We bow in the silence of a final exhale

Deeply unraveled, solemnly pale.

Slow, graceful, austere, yet outrun.

Cage my heart, dear,

Your touch is undone.

The Game.

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:17:27 -0400

Toss me your laugh,

That I might play the game.

Throw me a glance in an empty room,

I’ve been practicing, I swear!

Sweat on my brow as I watch you move,

You play the game.

I’ll play pretend.

child's play.

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:15:09 -0400

Don’t stop

Hold me, hold me

I say.

Don’t move

Just please me, please me

That way.

Hold tight! It’s just right!

Keep going all night.

Don’t think.

Don’t stray.

Just keep walking,

Walking away.

My Spine Is But Simplicity.

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 05:11:00 -0400

My spine is but simplicity

Connecting my halves

Dividing my wholes.

A servile track through flesh and mud

Faulting my brain for this lifetime’s complexities.

My lungs are but greed

Breathing your air

Exhaling your condemnation

Absorbing the rage my eyes will not see

Exuding a life force uniquely mine.

My eyes are but ferocity

Scavenging companionship

In an endless night.

Portals to a nest of idleness,

Brooding in a bath of resilience.

They flee from what they see, and sleep.

My feet are but tranquility

Walking a path continually unknown.

Fight onward, arched soldiers,

Fight this brain as it demands regress.

The Cigarette.

Sat, 28 May 2011 12:35:23 -0400

As I pause life, as I lose my breath

that I might find it,

I connect to the wisdom of the past.

I breathe in Fitzgerald’s eccentricity, I breathe out Marilyn’s fear.

I see a future in the smoke.

The seeds of asphyxiation,

the death of hesitation.

I begin in the spark.

I die in the filter.