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I woke one evening
  in a refrigerator
    filled with Love.

                            Your frozen songs
                             and self-scarred necks
                              have smeared
                                                   a glacier of growth
                                                      around my eyes.

                                                      And the nests of first 'Love'
                                                                                      led us to believe
                                                                                      we'd stick together
                                                                                      like dragonfly wings
                                                                                      to the supple spider webs of
                                                                                                                                Innocent Destiny.

                             Our feet had begun to steer the trees,
                             replacing roots with icicles of blood
                                                                                   while Stop Signs sang us
                                                                                                            into gaudy green flight.

                              The childhood clouds
                                     were chased away
                                     as we found ourselves

                                                           tangled

                                                                      in our gutted Fireplaces
                                                                                                    of Running Water.
                                                                     

But when the worry-webbed Love and desire collided,
              the dollar signs dazzled and swindled our lives,
              the televisions sparkled and they bottled our minds,

                    and Fireworks giggled as they were killed in the sky,
                                                                                               all to fulfill
                                                                                                the single purpose --
                                                                                                                                            
                                                                                                               to decorate our eyes.

So it made me wonder –
                                       Is it warmer to smile,
                                        or be the woeful one
                                         who causes others to?


As we toddled away,
         getting stabbed by  Age,


                                          I believe I found the better of the two.
©2006-2009 ~flappability
:iconflappability:

Author's Comments

Webbed Sky – 1 . 11 . 06 | 2:45 p.m | My Bed | 40 min


edit: [8.1.06] I entirely rewrote the first half of the poem due to the previous irrelevence to the meaning. Thanks to =MystWilliams for a nice little comment.



Into the ear of every Anarchist who sleeps but doesn't dream:
We must sing, we must sing, we must sing.

We must blend into the choir, sing as static with the whole
We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul
Into this endless race for property and privilege to be won
We must run, we must run, we must run

We must hang up in the belfry where the bats and moonlight laugh
We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past
Into the caverns of tomorrow with just our flashlights and our love
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge

And then we'll get down there
Way down to the very bottom of everything
And then we'll see it, oh, we'll see it! We'll see it! We’ll see it!

Oh, my morning's coming back
The whole world’s waking up
All the city buses swimming past,
I'm happy just because
I found out I am really no one...
-- Bright Eyes At the Bottom of Everything

Comments


love 0 0 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconkev2137:
That was beautiful. Ver very moving... from the fireworks and onward, I was completely snared by your poem, and it has left me... feeling.
:iconflappability:
thank you. :)

I have probably writen about fifteen poems about made up Love & relationships by now.

I'm glad that I can create things that can touch people. Thanks for the awesome comment as usual!

--
-- F.
"like two mammoths tusk-locked in ernest sport at the edge of the advancing ice age, you were my mystery and i was your mystery and in time we discovered that mystery was our home."
-l.cohen
:iconlilithlairpoetry:
The imagery is poignant in the minds that visualize each line verbatim. I found it quite appealing as well as the structure of the poem!!

--
Clubs
*Circleoffriends=DailyDeviants~Lullaby-Poetry~invisible-inc~OpinionatedHell~PoetsClub=The-Red-Envelope
:iconashellessmind:
I noticed a theme of things trying to close the two people in.

I woke one evening
in a refrigerator

and they found a way to accomodate themselves or escape.
The stop sign couldnt control them, and they simply flew above it. Their veins were controlling the outside rather than being controlled by their walls.

things bottled their minds, worry webbed around them

As we darted away,
getting stabbed by Age,

and they always escaped.

I love it.

--
Harmonize your inward and your outward life, and you soul will know no bounds of joy.
:iconflappability:
wow.. i love your poetry interpretations. :) They're almost exactly the meanings that i wanted to depict.
It's alway so heart-spankingly wonderful to read your feedbacks.

Thank you so much for dragging your fingers across the keyboard and applying pressure to each individual one just for the sake of commenting. :hug:

--
-- F.
"like two mammoths tusk-locked in ernest sport at the edge of the advancing ice age, you were my mystery and i was your mystery and in time we discovered that mystery was our home."
-l.cohen
:iconashellessmind:
You know. Call this off topic but I love the way you talk. I hope to god you're the only one who ever says anything is "heart-spankingly wonderful" because the originality of it all is just too perfect to repeat.

I know every time I read one of your comments that something is going to make me smile.
Something, every time.

--
Harmonize your inward and your outward life, and you soul will know no bounds of joy.
:iconmirrormaul:
woah....! way to cool! beautifully written. :) I like it!

"our veins had begun to steer the trees" we depend the oxygen they trees feed us yet just by living humans tend to destroy them... I guess that's just a realists poin of view though... heh...

--
Peace, Love and Chaos.
:iconflappability:
wahh....thank you.

It took a long time to develop this languagey thing... I started talking very oddly in... 7th grade. So yeah. two years.


I usually just kind of ingrain words that sound cool and crunchy into my vocabulary,a nd start braiding them together in odd ways.

here is a very.. odd quote that I wrote...

''We eat emotion. We eat it. Slip it into our thoats as it soaks into our hearts.
But what goes in must always come out. Therefore, when the emotion has clogged our hearts for such an insanely long time - - it needs an outlet.
Therefore emotion decides to tumble into our butt.
AS we sit on the toilet in the morning's wobbling light - - we poop emotion.
POOP = art :: because they're both solid with varying colors

Or we pee, emotion out.
PEE = poetry :: because they both flow.
Or we fart it out
MUSIC = fart :: because they're both sopping-wet in SOUND -- and cannot be visibly seen."

and personally i think that conor oberst' fart is exceptionally good!

--
-- F.
"like two mammoths tusk-locked in ernest sport at the edge of the advancing ice age, you were my mystery and i was your mystery and in time we discovered that mystery was our home."
-l.cohen

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January 14, 2006
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