6:04 sun blooms
crows circle broken pigeons
sleep pecks at eyelids
Clouds fuck, mobile cars,
sky blue, engrossed in rapids,
wonder escapes...Breathe.
Breathe. Mountain laden,
so proud and brown and stoic-
Breathe, breathe ears and eyes.
Waspish words, snow floor,
nicotine prone, bare footed:
Immerse nose in rose.


Close to us is war,
turmoil stirs but reconcile.
Reconcile is sleep.
It pecks at my eyes
(a lover pulling my neck).
With woe mismanaged

it digs at my eyes.
Last edited by ali.guitarkid7 at Apr 19, 2012,
i like this piece. it has the feel of a daily routine morning, afternoon, evening. rush hour traffic with the masses. patience is the goal also when conflicted with stress. daydreaming of mountains, etc. good stuff i can relate to.
I like where this is going, but I think you could help yourself out a bit. capitalizing letters at the beginnings of lines, sticking to three-line stanzas, and other typical orders you would find in a structured poem contradict your unorganized, sporadic narrative. you could make this really bite by trying to marry the two
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& alaskan_ninja

Thank you for that, I changed a bit of the stanza structure. I'll make some more edits when I'm mentally fit enough

Anything you want me to take a look at?