when those closest to us crumble it's hard for us to find the strength not to aswell
The point of stretching is to curl
Contract, expand, connect
Pieces, extending from the centre,
To crack into another
Force it if it doesn't fit
Turgor pressure will hold till it bursts
Then we will plug the hole
Like the dyke of the Dutch (or the Irish)
Tesselations, spinning around
Centrifuging the fragments
to make a pie out of them
Half-baked tid-bits
Unco-operative and rambling
Like a tunnel with no end
But you feel the light in your hands,
With its "radiating tingling".
You see it coming, but it still takes the stuffing
Out of the chicken to fill the pillow
As you crash and rock
In your state of insomnia
I'm watching you jump,
Like a queen in the hive,
words scattered like beads on the paper
and speech moving out of your mouth too slow
For the overload of your brain
And the trigger mechanism
That prompts you to self-implode
But you took our ship with you
The sails are up, but there's
No wind to blow them
No electricity to ignite the charging
Of the cells in your battery pack
You say your pieces of ramble all add up
Like the cells equate to the brain.
Distortions are rampant, mutations are rife
But you still have faith in your words.
Toothbrush in a cupboard?
Children overboard?
What is the truth and what's not?
Hidden away in the genie lamp
1 month or infinite months?
Just how long will it take
For you to break out of the prison
And regain maternality.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 622 times
Written on 2006-11-21 at 13:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Mind Cell
The point of stretching is to curl
Contract, expand, connect
Pieces, extending from the centre,
To crack into another
Force it if it doesn't fit
Turgor pressure will hold till it bursts
Then we will plug the hole
Like the dyke of the Dutch (or the Irish)
Tesselations, spinning around
Centrifuging the fragments
to make a pie out of them
Half-baked tid-bits
Unco-operative and rambling
Like a tunnel with no end
But you feel the light in your hands,
With its "radiating tingling".
You see it coming, but it still takes the stuffing
Out of the chicken to fill the pillow
As you crash and rock
In your state of insomnia
I'm watching you jump,
Like a queen in the hive,
words scattered like beads on the paper
and speech moving out of your mouth too slow
For the overload of your brain
And the trigger mechanism
That prompts you to self-implode
But you took our ship with you
The sails are up, but there's
No wind to blow them
No electricity to ignite the charging
Of the cells in your battery pack
You say your pieces of ramble all add up
Like the cells equate to the brain.
Distortions are rampant, mutations are rife
But you still have faith in your words.
Toothbrush in a cupboard?
Children overboard?
What is the truth and what's not?
Hidden away in the genie lamp
1 month or infinite months?
Just how long will it take
For you to break out of the prison
And regain maternality.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 622 times
Written on 2006-11-21 at 13:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Zachary P. B. |
|
Saga |
|
Neil Chalcraft |
| Texts |
by Caila IhleLatest textsOperataHotshot Sleet Parade Hotplate Hands Trivial Flare-Ups |
Increase font
Decrease