Newest
kingston's current.baby haunts the record stores in hope of some heavenly musical intervention; a wail, a symphony,kingston's current.
a glimmer of bells and chimes,
a lullaby for his tired friendly eyes.
his jacket is a canary-yellow sun in the drizzle and grey of a sunday afternoon.
and all throughout the town-upon-thames,
there are moaning lovers, taxis turning their lights off, buildings that seem to
sigh.
he remembers the girl with pale face and pale hair, the scarlet sheets; her mouth tainted with the tang of sherbert and cigarettes, her face bruis
by ~cigaretteburnkisses
the dancedancing with daddythe dance
around the kitchen;
my yellow ribbons that i wore in my hair are trampled beneath our feet and so is broken glass from cases of wine and locked windows (though we don't notice)
its a good thing that we are still wearing our sunday shoes, mother says, no smile on her tired lips. she stirs and stirs at the tea and does not brush the hair away from her eyes.
by ~cigaretteburnkisses
octopussome things are too small or stupid to write down like the idleness of this album or the wildness of your eyes- arnold layne comes to say hello and we lie in the bedroom playing secret guitars andoctopus
dreaming of colour. and he doesnt know it but
that kiss and that look is love staring through purple heart sunglasses.
you whisper and i whisper secrets
like coldenglishweathersex and how i love you yes i do oh your bones- lay them like foundations on twigs and the dead like stone upon stone.
by ~cigaretteburnkisses
Favourites
this is not a sad poemWe have hiccups, at the same time and we shout ‘boo’ like we are trying to cure ourselves of things like distance, like pain, like being able to see-but-not-touch.this is not a sad poem
I try to write the perfect poem, but I just end up with empty jaws, an empty bed, a cup of love that can’t decide - is it half empty of full? I keep trying to write a peaceful poem about waking up with I-am-right-here on my lips and feeling warm. A poem about waking up and not needing to say anything with my mouth, just with my arms, how they sit and my hips, how they talk to your stomach. I l
by ~inmyroom
green, not goldi take the sun firmly by the cheeksgreen, not gold
and kiss it
your hummingbird lips flutter and hum they skitter away from me each time the silence raises an octave diseased leaves shine with crimson they make up your face i draw a smile in the dirt and pretend you are laughing with me, that you are holding my hand. this is what october would say if i could take her firmly by the cheeks and kiss her
by ~amarlborohallelujah
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: london.
- Interests: charity shop books, dancing, strangers, other people in love.
- Favourite movie: anything with anna karina.
- Favourite band or musician: the velvet underground, emiliana torrini, cat power.
- Favourite poet or writer: conor oberst, richard brautigan, jack kerouac.
- Favourite cartoon character: my new favourite human.
- Tools of the Trade: life stories, pen and paper, internet cafes, coffee and marlboro lights.
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--
“Ah, Opium. The mass of the children...”
- Wild Oscare on Opium
my spaz.
last.fm
--
“Ah, Opium. The mass of the children...”
- Wild Oscare on Opium
my spaz.
last.fm
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