Teens love writing poems.
Posted 1 month ago with 5 notes
Poem I wrote at 19 that I just found
Things aren’t always resolved
when one of us dies
We haven’t always become
one with the mud
or read enough books
Your grandfather never
composed a symphony
things aren’t always
worked out when we’ve got to go
we may not have added it all up
or kissed the right mouth
“If I had just one more shot”
Is that what I’d say
if this were my day
Rummaging through the
glue between years
to find a single day
that made any sense
A composite picture
of you sitting on the kitchen floor
your childhood friend had just gone to sleep
from the cancer that was eating her
and you got trapped
in your mind a second too long
thinking of your own life
where she fit in
your past loves and if
they might’ve amounted to anything
would you still be sitting there on that floor
We used to count falling stars
in the meteor shower each year in the grass
by the house we didn’t own
before and after the storms
why did we always want
something better
or was it just me
the transition into
make believe
childhood is so much more real
when you get down to it
These days home sits heavy in memories
of when time was gracious and slow
riding on tortoise back
thinking that growing up is the myth
and far-fetched at that
I saw it on your face
that day
eyes can’t lie
Waltzing Matilda
you fell asleep
with the sun in the room
Posted 1 month ago with 7 notes
Space Shot of the Day: A Green Nebula in Deep Space
This fresh-outta-space image captured by the European Southern Observatory’s Very Large Telescope shows the most detailed view of IC 1295, a planetary nebula lying 3,300 light-years away in the constellation Scutum, glowing in its ghostly green beauty. If you want more, check out the video released by ESO.
Posted 1 month ago with 464 notes
Ask a Grown Man: Thom Yorke and Nigel Godrich
If Radiohead had given me life advice when I was 14, I think my life would be somewhat different now.
Posted 1 month ago with 1,544 notes
109 plays
Crawl across towards your window
I’m calling softly from the street
Always a lonely widow
Half awake and sleeping on my feet
I’m of age but have no children
No quarter phone booth calls to home
Just late with television
Inside my bedroom all alone
There is no use in waiting
Offer up your steps so I can climb
Show me all your figure paintings
Etched in the middle of the night
Let me stretch upon your carpet
Let me hear the rain tap on your street
Knowing I am safe on the inside
Blankets wrapped and drifting off to sleep
Posted 1 month ago with 57 notes
I wanted to hear what was boiling inside you long before we met it was a cold night but that doesn’t matter now I had images of seascapes and the darkest skies taped up in my mind of the stories you tell me and those you tell yourself what’s real is the absence and the great forgetting there is no undoing smog sits heavy eighteen hours east I wish I’d been on that plane I wish I’d gone blind that day got caught up in the newest wave and I drank each word the the greatest pleasure and they’re still in me even now We saw the moon through the buildings scraping upward in the palm of a hallucination you smiled and I was wrong to see it I don’t know who you are blood and eyes and bone and intentions unknown When I woke up I was miles away I walked back anyway and I never relate people are dying all around me and I’ve just got this small heart pain I wish I’d been on that plane there’s no more pull and I feel gunshots in my head like benign firecrackers just let got before it gets dangerous We looked up at the clouded universe barely touching I’d have stayed if it was real I wish I’d gone blind that day
Posted 1 month ago with 15 notes
