Cherry

I'm always caught wishing
I could just hide myself.
Only, unlike those that
want to hold out until
the storm has passed and some
outside force tells them
'Its okay, little children.
You can come out now.';
I want to stay inside
even after that.
Even after after that.
I want to ball up and
hide until either the
world changes or I do.
And faced with the entire
spinning globe as my
stare-down opponent,
I'm pretty sure we all
know who's gonna be the one
to feel the sting of
mortality in their eyes
and blink.

So let me be the one
to change. If such a thing
is possible. Let me
be like the deluded
girls I knew in high school
who gave up all they had
to the world early, then
hid,
thinking they could grow back
their mangled purity.
And why not? Its just a
bit of flesh. Its just a
splash of blood. The pain will fade,
given enough time.
That's what we tell ourselves,
isn't it?

---

July, 2009

Cherry by Andre Marsden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Poet's Braggadocio

I could take the disarrangement of stars
and fit the universe in my throat.
I could spit out constellations
and have them line up obediently on paper.

I could make metaphors
out of valleys of lava and sulfur
and cradle the unattainable in my arms
as if it had just been born
into the raw and tangible.

And i could do this all
with little more than an empty field,
the crushed,
bleached
and dried remains of a tree,
the feather of a bird
and something to dip it in for ink.

Yes,
my god loves me,
and he lets me borrow a little taste
of his power
in special moments
that I call inspiration.

---

Written sometime in July, 2009