Poets logo

Strings

A complex culmination of simplicities

By Celious BlancPublished 4 years ago 1 min read
1

Strings

Above strings

Above strings

Above strings

Above strings

Above strings



Melodies played through the nuance of things

E-A-D-G-B-E

Collect heart-shaped candles and melt them on me

Blindly poured out and spread like a lotion

Eat the coated film and paint pictures out of the motions

That blur when you click the button

Shuttered suddenly into the abyss, insist

Last kiss, missed it

The taste of bittersweet, inner skin;

Livid and unwinding, zooming

Through lenses of places past

Far from discussion

Percussion; pounding and pattering

In the overclouded, saturated

Unloving, of you

Set against the view



Never appeared so hazy

Amazing, wasn't it? Kindred spirits floating

Across the hop-scotched pavements

Separated, scattered and jig-sawed

In the upheaval of reduction, suction

Sucked in! Inducted verbs, conjugated

With the meanings of inner discoveries;

Breathing, heaving, emptied lungs sitting on the window sill

Set aside and exercised until the underbelly epitomised

The catalyst of inspiration found on the pavement of the station,

Elation, evasions, escaped like convicts from the chains

That kept them underground, shunned; far from the way of the sound



Unfound, unwound, spellbound - some may say,

Left to their own decay, sent through the path that paves the way

Of the fate of those buried deep,

Underneath the sheath of the least of the beasts



Just a sheaf in the wind, a feast to set the timing perfectly

Became free when it came to me, set the scene and entered entropy

Nihilism appeared in shadows of the rearview mirror

Kept me away from the glimmer of hope that may have shone from the petty winner 



Kept grinning through sparkling smiles

So wild, yet so beguiled,

Child-like, and untrusting,

Like lusting for something



You can't quite reach, but want so bad

How it hits you, preaches to you

Like something so mad, sad

Makes you want what you had

But old habits tend to die hard

It's not the card you pick up at the end,

But what you send to the friend

You never thought you would speak to again

Say it again

And again

And again

And again

And again.

performance poetry
1

About the Creator

Celious Blanc

a poet since birth

running in the wind

head in the stars

soul in my eyes

a contradiction of emotion

an abstract perception

an involuntary whisper

a shadow in the light.

@celiousblanc

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.