turned around to think of you.
not wanting to watch me get affected by
a wrinkle of your forehead, or that
smile that taste of allness,
beneath you shirt, what could be sym-
metrical eyes do it all all over again I’ll,
gain my substance, my height. your like.
Bild: ©paleica.wordpress.com
some love things
are too much to bear and
inconsistency moves at a pace,
a pace we would never go
to hold on and on and on on on
and like carpets cling to the floor
don’t wanna be removed.
a womens skirt
upliftet. at a breakbeat
the ones we hate.
Summer writings to the bit
more awful than the ihh-
tone and count
those crunchy days laugh,
underneath feet and oh my knees.
While Chicago wept and slept,
notice: sugarcanefields aren`t here.
But near all the streets
I want to give new names.
©IsaG
A lemonscent lies beneath
snow covered grounds
clean touches street-
days without noise
other than cars moving by
dampening sounds to a clear
no colored cold within white
© IsaG
Coughing up and all
night long.
And then, in the morning
surprise, surprise me
with blue plums.
© IsaG
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night-Louis Tillett (dylan thomas)
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
As a papercloud
and a paperfalling plane
hit the nine and eleven
so hard,
the top of all, we and
yes the hat of it all fell,
at least forever.
© IsaG
