#1
you hear me out?
what's a tree without root?


i would like to consider you as the first raindrop on my windshield
the first patter on my roof before the flood
before the sewers let out overwhelming croaks
and we end up sitting soaked in darkened moods
licking our wounds

and it would be before i'd see you crystallize
playing the piano in the backrooms of our somber house
while i'd curl up close to where the light escapes
from out the bottom of the door so i could trace
your shadowy movements from place to place
and before the evening would open and the light gone
before you'd loom formless too busy to notice
the shy little boy seeping into the corners
covering his ears from a midsummer storm

it would be before i'd hide in the fort i built
made from lawnchairs and handwoven quilts
waiting for you to tear the curtain down
to take me somewhere with you
and finally let your many hues lift my vision

but the moment would only swivel on its hinge
as a screen door flapping in the rain and wind
i would pray but my hands wouldn't sing like they used to
they'd only singe


so now i ride the ripples of the road
blinkers on wipers off
and home is on the other side of the glass
past the rain spilling down in gray streamers
and the gusts which rattle my rearview mirror
i think of this car as sanctuary
my savior blown somewhere blurred out
wearing the blank expression of a saint
who is cast upon a stained-glass window
offering nothing it promised me
as it peters into ugliness

it all just goes with the dusk
doesn't it?
here, My Dear, here it is
Last edited by SubwayToVenus at Sep 6, 2010,
#3
i would like to consider you as the first raindrop on my windshield
the first patter on my roof before the flood
Love the two lines above...
before the sewers let out overwhelming croaks
and we end up sitting soaked in darkened moods
licking our wounds
Imagery is amazingly well done here...

and it would be before i'd see you crystallize
playing the piano in the backrooms of our somber house
while i'd curl up close to where the light escapes
from out the bottom of the door so i could trace
your shadowy movements from place to place
and before the evening would open and the light gone
before you'd loom formless too busy to notice
the shy little boy seeping into the corners
covering his ears from a midsummer storm
I love this stanza, because it's like you're telling me a story.. I'm picturing an old 1800s saloon type of setting... it's really fun to think about

it would be before i'd hide in the fort i built
made from lawnchairs and handwoven quilts
waiting for you to tear the curtain down
to take me somewhere with you
and finally let your many hues lift my vision
I dont really understand how the last line fits in with the rest of this stanza...

but the moment would only swivel on its hinge
as a screen door flapping in the rain and wind
i would pray but my hands wouldn't sing like they used to
they'd only singe
I love this, because it kind of reminds me of the Wizard of Oz, when the tornado is going through Dorothy's house, and the screen door breaks off... :P


so now i ride the ripples of the road
Love the alliteration
blinkers on wipers off
and home is on the other side of the glass
past the rain spilling down in gray streamers
and the gusts which rattle my rearview mirror
i think of this car as sanctuary
my savior blown somewhere blurred out
wearing the blank expression of a saint
who is cast upon a stained-glass window
offering nothing it promised me
as it peters into ugliness
I imagine the stained glass windows of a church being blown out by a storm in this stanza, i dont know if that's what you were going for, but that's how it hits me.

it all just goes with the dusk


Overall, i find this to be really enjoyable to read, great imagery, great style, blah blah blah. Well done.
#4
Quote by #1 synth
this was really enjoyable with a thunderstorm in the background


^^
マリ「しあわっせはーあるいってこないだーからあるいってゆっくんだねーん 
いっちにっちいっぽみーかでさんぽ
 さーんぽすすんでにっほさっがるー 
じーんせいはっわんつー!ぱんち・・・


"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching

#6
I really love the continuing driving theme in all of these, Ryan. the car is such a symbol, to me at least, for movement and solitude. to be enclosed with oneself, veering turns and watching the dark sky and holding conversations with yourself in your head, eventually turning the radio off, eventually rolling the windows down to make sure you're really moving, eventually looking at the clock and wondering if you should care... it's also one of the few independent places you have left when you're at home, or what is slowly dwindling in its definition of home as school and life take over.

I like this piece more than the last stylistically, I feel like this has more flow and is more appropriate as a poem as the last may have prospered more as prose. I hope you have someone to talk to or just hold hands with at least, whatever helps you more.
Quote by Arthur Curry
it's official, vintage x metal is the saving grace of this board and/or the antichrist




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