Words of Freedom
Q's Discussions
lost along the way.
Replied Mar. 23, 2008
lost along the way.
2 Replies
Started this discussion. Last reply by Dylan Mitchell Oct 14.
Q's Page
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Comment Wall (2 comments)
- At 2:59am on February 17, 2008,
JANAJ-YANAY said… - really like what you posted here,.great poetry
- At 2:47pm on February 5, 2008,
Obi Adisa Asad said… - Q, what's up, brother? Glad to see you here on P4HR. Keep it moving.
Profile Information
- Hometown:
- Toronto/Halifax
- Stage or Page or Both
- Page
- About Me:
- I write.
I live at 3am.
- Website:
- http://beatjunkie.journalspace.com/
- Favorite Poet or Author:
- Reality,...
Generally Canadian and generally anglophone Jews from Montreal. Generally.
I like Toronto's old Bohemian Embassy crowd - before it went condo.
I think those Brits in powdered wigs had a nifty line or two.
But mostly they're musicians.
Her poem started easily enough
with a left handed smack in the mouth
"I'm too old to be empty", I said,
"...she needs
to bleed
me out."
"i fucked you
for your style", said she
"i know it's been a while, but i
never played with your mind,
i've taken nearly everything
in case you we're wondering
there's nothing but the dust of us
behind".
Her poem started easily enough
with left handed slant
and circle dot lowercase i.
Were the words of a birdsmith
and a maker of things
(not an artist but a genuine
lie)
Q's Blog
Something Of A Rare Moment: Sleeping With The Lights On
Under dripping skies of cider
Neon lights and fireflies
Open wide eyes wider
Number every lash and lover
One through 32
Come as clean as bloody murder
Walk amongst the few
Spend the night with a beatnik icon
A junkie and a Jew
Turn the day off and the lights on
With eyes of bluest blue.
Posted on March 24, 2008 at 8:23am — 2 Comments
Swingshift
alone. I sink into the gold light of sunrise as I begin my long walk home, and she sleeps -
and wakes when I walk through the door
as quietly as a happy man can. She misses the sun. I miss her. She never sees the golden sun rise above the hills or the beauty of the world at 4 a.m. I only see her when she sleeps. I watch her
dream about ghosts and dancing and warm wind on days of summer rain. I sink into myself
and wonder,
if the sun never… Continue
Posted on March 24, 2008 at 8:20am —
Wisp
I tried to say it but nothing came out just a tiny wisp of smoke 'You are made of Oranges and I of ash and soot You were built by gods and I constructed broke' We were purified by Fire made as strong as water oak I float a whispered everlong on sacred oil and hope Sink a deep blue kiss on you Inhale a wisp of smok |
Posted on February 5, 2008 at 9:13am — 1 Comment
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