taptaptap

at a loss of what to say
typing fingers anyway
the meaning doesn't matter.

Ivan Divine (unfinished)

One lovely spring morning
with birds singing above,
Ivan divine
was feeling quite fine
and daydreaming
of love.

"Love is like a flower,"
he said.
"it opens up its wings-"
"sounds like a bird to me,"
said Laura Lee.
"You speak of silly things."

Then Ivan Divine
was put into line
when he set eyes on she,
the lovely and the beautiful,
the little Laura Lee.
"But you must be mistaken,
for love is in the air!
it lives in flowers,
birds and trees,
why, love is everywhere."

And as he said these words, he felt,
a feeling grow inside,
that filled the corners of his soul,
'till nowhere he could hide.
As Laura looked disdainfully,
he thought, oh my,
how could this be?
I have just found
this thing called love,
and it is killing me!

Of Summertime

Dreams and spite,
these dreams and spite,
how steady is their might,
when hand in hand,
they creep along
these lovely Summer nights.

Summer nights,
oh summer nights,
how sour they can turn,
when all the things
you do not want
are all the things you learn.

Things you learn,
the things you learn,
you silently accept,
pretending that
inside your head
there aren't the things you kept.

Old poetry

These structures of steel,
these beings of ore,
that stand above the world.
We created them, and yet,
they
are the rulers of everything.
In an iron mindset, these things of green,
they wither
beneath my metal fury.
I have no love for things
of the earth.
But when all is as it should be,
the dark mossy regions of my mind
reach their leaves toward the sunlight,
basking in its golden glow,
and once more,
I am a being of the forest,
of the green and of the world,
and its ageless whispers calm me.

Stasi

I know
You're not an asshole.
and its a shame
that we can't talk
to each other.
But you know
as well as me
that we were never good at that anyway
and now, we don't have to be.
'though I still love you and hate you
for that.