Poetry

0 comments on "I’m going to be posting some poetry (sorry) on Kimichee"

Sometimes I get fearful thoughts about my impending mortality. And while I’m not too concerned about the afterward, I do fret about what will happen to all the words I’ve written that I’ve never bothered to share.

If I kicked it tomorrow, my computer and all its contents would simply disappear.

And all my writings with it.

So I’ve got folders and folders of things I wrote when I was young (from like 15-17), and amongst them is a document containing over 40,000 words of poetry.

40 THOUSAND words.

Of poetry.

A lot of it seems pretty bad to me now. Some start off really good then trail off as past-me obviously couldn’t figure out how to wrap things up.

Anyways, I’m going to start posting those old poems on Kimichee.

I’ll try to post the original along with a now-me-asized version that will hopefully make the old words a bit better.

Also, if you recognize any of my poems? STFU.

Yes, it’s me. Hello to you too.

Please don’t out me as the giant nerd I am.

If you know some other me? Then congratulations. You are the knower of a secret thing. STFU.

So anyways. Poetry ahoy!

And STFU.

Pax,

~HarperWCK

BLUE WORLD

The blue world is just before the night,
the blue world is just before the dawn,
my world is just before there’s light,
before the singing of each new song.
Though I wait for something,
the blue world gets in my way,
I am of the blue world,
it’s my soul and heart and everything.

I never get the things I want,
I’m always just too late,
I am of the blue world.
When the sky is blue,
and the world is almost dark,
but there’s a kind of inner beauty,
that is where I am.

I am of the blue world,
before the coming of the dawn,
and the coming of the night.
I am of the blue world,
a being of sadness and regret,
I am of the blue world,
a being of hope and not as yet.

I am of the blue world.

0 comments on "POEM: “Home” by Harper Kingsley"

HOME
by Harper Kingsley

A knock at the door
came in the night
lifted me up
held me so tight.
Promising words
of what’s yet to come
soothing my fears
‘It’s going to be all right.’
But sometimes lies are promises
that simply can’t be held
when the world is falling down
and love has turned to hell.

We’re fighting with our friends
since our enemies are all gone
because peace is a stranger
we don’t want to meet just yet.
Dancing in the moonlight
used to be the height of fun
but now that we’ve gone the distance
it’s all about who’s got the bigger gun.
Bang bang
at the starting gate
boom boom
across the line
watch as the world is burning
keep telling the lie that you’re fine.

I can see you crying
there’s tears mixing with the rain
you keep insisting that you’ll make it
‘Deep down you’re okay.’
I’m having trouble breathing
around the words I cannot say
but God knows that I love you
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I watch you tear yourself apart
and there’s nothing I can do
your heart is full and deep
it’s the biggest part of you.

They want to tear you apart
their smiles are nothing but teeth
they would consume you if they could
but I’ll knock ’em off their feet.
If you’re not strong enough to fight
then I will fight for you
I will hold you up
I will see you through.
Until you’re strong enough to walk
to stand up on your own
I will stand by you
and make myself into a home.

1 comment on "Stream of consciousness… Sonnet? Poem? Unchained melody? What is it?"

The transient nature of time itself is a wonderful poetry all its own. Lyrical melody that crawls into your brain through your ears and completely rearranges the ambient full-point of your brain. Leaves you trailing, yowling and wailing as you’re plunged deep into the fondant depths of depravity.

You go from a state of pure energy and goodness, a blank slate filled by the things around you. As time passes by you absorb the powerful rays and it drowns you in sound and light and FURY you cannot express in any kind of words. You die a little, only to be brought back–reborn!–from the vapor trail you left behind, the matter flexing and bending away, losing most of its solidity.

And thus you become adult, having shed most of the lightness and brightness of your younger years. In return you are imbued with the spongelike ability of absorbing ambient energy left behind by other stars. A sun alone, you twirl and burn, streamers of pyrotonic silk flaring out from your very being. A heartbeat pulsing against the backdrop of velvet night, twinkling and shining, birthing and dying.

To shed seedlings around yourself, each a little life all its own. Possibility wrapped up in a shell of fragility, cracking out of it to become just like you. Half your light, and half another, they echo what has come before.

You shed matter and energy, your light dimming before going out. A star dying in the heart of a man, you are nothing and no one, you fade into bliss.

And the universe is left a much lesser place.