Mom Spaghetti
A place within me past a memory of a huge pot boiling moms spaghetti. The smell of a water hose in summer. Reincarnate me, let me play in the sun, take away from me the memories of that last place and hold me close again dear mother. I miss you’re smile, I miss the days and nights spent upon you’re lap. Rock me to sleep and I will dream of pirate treasure and let you pretend to be a monster who’s trying to eat me! That’s the heaven I won’t. Simply wishes with naps by the tv. Plastic army men and a blanket fort.
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Cranial Origami
poetry short stories NFTS
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Pushing Daisies
Pushing Daisies Find meaningful precedents to let show with chosen median a makers mark upon this world then lose thy self to it. Throw passion with you’re eyes unto the frae and where it touch be crushed and lifted. Let us run like mad naked beasts through the thrush in moon light as stars fall weeping from our short time under their shine. Allegory of a thousand suns like that of past lives spent upon this rolling bolder in the cosmos. A different frame holds a picture of a God on another wall like wind that’s pushed daisies around for fun.
By Cranial Origami2 years ago in Poets
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
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