Category: Uncategorized

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Poetry

– something to write –

– something to write –

RIP_AR_From_Kwirb

Been thinking about this gentleman all morning since news broke. Rest in peace, Alan Rickman, and thank you once more for sharing your talents with us.

– something to write –

i want to write words that will help me make sense of how i feel
i need to express the meaningful emotions that linger within me
i wish to fill that lull between knowing reality with the unknown
if only to make that gap less real and filled with the imaginary
the improbable that can never be with the irony of unspoken words
maybe wishful thinking sprinkled with the stardust of your talent
and my only reprieve is knowing that you no longer silently suffer
but how fortuitous that you have left us bodies of your great work
adding the right colours to the monotony of black on white papers
stories and characters that illuminate, blinded by your subtlety,
a bittersweet thing to not know you beyond what you’ve revealed
and the truth of you and who you mean to them, myself, included
i cannot grieve for you properly when there is so much of you left
for us to celebrate, clinking the proverbial glass of champagne
across the borders that divide us and transcending the boundaries
with the spirit you shared; you’ve touched us all without knowing
and my writing cannot do any justice for what we have lost but
it gives us more reason for something to write, stories to tell,
and though we will not hear them in your unmistakeable baritone,
we can still tell them for the sake of our survivability

@kwirb

Poetry

The House Is Smiling

THE HOUSE IS SMILING
With Oz, himself, on the uppermost floor
and a mummy guarding the front door;
With a pair of eyes as the shifty tenant
of the second floor, a kitty pregnant?
Perhaps. But with a skeletal pirate
and webbings of spiders and spiders
for decor, and shingles in the highest
state of shaggy, the array of insiders
within this sorry frame, whose pathetic
lawn is in dire need of being weeded,
whose roof can barely counter energetic
lightning upon its dilapidated heedings,
whose shutters would rather fall apart
inside itself rather than hold its own,
with its tithers that withers my hearts’
innermost jitters from the fidgety boned
bitterness that stems on wishes to implore
leaves from my fear of haunted housings,
branched from a quiet knock on the door:
the eventual sounds of silenced shoutings
is the reason to why
I refuse to even try
to knock on that door
with Oz himself, on the uppermost floor.
Uncategorized

Incubus

Incubus

Sanguine ether
nursing contusions;
emotional tourniquet
upon tenebrous fervency.

Succubus.