Unquiet Desperation
February 08, 2012, 04:46:13 AM *
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[January 09, 2012, 09:35:14 PM] Ploe: That I could!

[January 27, 2012, 10:34:49 AM] Raven: I want to say hello and I want to say i was piter pater in the mean time ... god I love to piter pater i miss it so much

[January 27, 2012, 10:35:48 AM] Raven: dont mean to bitter pater?

[January 27, 2012, 10:36:08 AM] Raven: just pitter patter like feats

[January 27, 2012, 10:37:01 AM] Raven: hey pater i have some poems for you to talk shit on

[January 27, 2012, 10:37:12 AM] Raven: be really mean and shit

[January 27, 2012, 10:38:07 AM] Raven: I need pater on my platter

[January 27, 2012, 10:38:16 AM] Raven: a big dose

[January 27, 2012, 10:40:48 AM] Raven: or in brokelyn lingo harry ploter

[January 27, 2012, 10:46:17 AM] Raven: Been reading your new poems pater you on a yeats trip i like it?

[January 30, 2012, 12:49:57 PM] Raven: everyone has a great poem just tell your story in a special way I you will feel you much better

[January 30, 2012, 12:50:51 PM] Raven: these people get so good at writing poems they forget how to tell the story

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Author Topic: Long-dead Sirens  (Read 236 times)
Pater
Galileo Galilei
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Posts: 601


Pressed wrong button in p'port photo booth...


« on: August 31, 2010, 01:42:18 AM »

How lucky or unlucky is it,
being able to trace back
through incidents from memory,
with other-world feelings
ticking their place in the myths
you think rotate your adult life,
when you hide them away
from the seasons of others yet enjoy,
the cocoon like a womb they bring?
Am I the child or the man?

I loved the rhyming slang "cycle path"
for psychopath when aged ten,
hearing of James Taylor's breakdown,
yet wanted to heal him;
was I a disordered boy?
Teenaged I did sport with a mix
of real dread yet slyness;
played Catholicism and violence.
Now I get jolts from my childhood
out of the blue. Something happened -
to only me back then.

by Pater
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