Poems

Wind chimes need to be disturbed to be heard. Only through chaos is there music.

Just once, I wish I could kiss you for an hour in the middle of a quiet park; Taste your beautiful lips.

Just once, I wish I could hold you in my arms and draw animals on your back; Paint you with my fingers.

Just once, I wish I could wake up with your head on my shoulder; Wrapped in the morning mist.

It’s too rare an emotion,
too rare a friendship,
too rare an understanding.
Few moments in life are worth crying with,
but you are definitely one of them.
And when the time comes
that I can no longer hold your hand
and tell you I love you,
my heart will cry with pain
and my skin will grow cold,
and I will quietly die.

You are not my happiness, but I have joy from you.

You are not my stability, but I have balance from you.

You are not my confidence, but I have strength from you.

You are not my lover, but I have romance from you.

Check what the muthafuckin’ record just said, man.

Slip to the books chump, betta find another can.

Killin’ muthafuckas just tryin’ a throw a juice, man?

Spreadin’ to the head blast, record for the devils’ can.

Kiss, cut, cry, kill; muthafuckin’ bullet fill.

Dabble death, trigger will, betta shot, betta kill.

Muthafuckin’ asshole, betta chill the fuck show.

Never know the time of day, bullet finds its own way.

“Immortality is in the collective; in the soot gathered on the ceiling from the fire of time. Each life a twinkle, a speck; gone in the blink of an eye. But all the twinkles, all the specks, all the blinks slowly layered upon the ceiling until there is no more ceiling to behold except for the fire of immortality.”

– Reid Walley