papers/lighter/text

crumbled and rolled

sentimental stoner sketch 10/13/2013

Filed under: Uncategorized — paperslightertext @ 11:06 pm

Rugrat never liked it
When I reduced her to prosody,
The petulant child a reluctant subject
For my public, sullen verse,
The vehicle for her missing mountain,
Misty in the distance,
Obscured by cat-footed fog.

Hence why she messaged me,
Many moons on, several eons,
Practically, in young adult years,
The coalescence of feelings queer.
A bra rests aside a bong,
A teenaged prophecy, ever-long.

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haiku from class 10/09/2013

Filed under: haiku — paperslightertext @ 12:56 am

haiku on demand
this is improvising, now
instant poetry

counting syllables
is beside the point. haiku
can turn on a dime.

 

dual sonnet 2 10/06/2013

Filed under: sloppy sonnet,sonnet — paperslightertext @ 11:33 pm

You like me despite my star sign, Leo
My tendency toward displays of inflated ego
Despite my resemblance to Michael Cera
Or my penchant for smiling at you from afar

Insinuated tidbits, a series of little hints,
Subtle signals unique as fingerprints.
All the while, a swift and silent tension
Built upon until upended by confession

Resulting in an expression of reciprocation
Followed up with an addendum of hesitation
“I think I have a crush on you too, maybe,
But I can’t do anything about it.” Lady,

If you decide that something must be done
I’m open to whatever you think is fun.

 

dual sonnet 1 10/05/2013

Filed under: sloppy sonnet,sonnet — paperslightertext @ 1:21 pm

Teenaged prophecies coming true
A celestial showdown to ensue,
Stars that eventually aligned,
To spell a name now maligned

In memories altered
At Science’s altar
Parallels emerging clear,
The intersect of hope and fear

Along a marker graph drawn on an arm
Your arm I’d come to love then harm
Luminosity divided by area
When sober you were wary of

Pseudoscience, false dichotomies, astrology,
Evolutionary psychology– preferring astronomy.

 

A Sonnet for Sol 10/04/2013

Filed under: sonnet — paperslightertext @ 12:46 pm

Sol said, “Set these words to song,”
As though a melody would stroll along
And park its walker in the café
Then hum 12 bars without delay.

Alas, my musical muse rarely visits me.
Melodies don’t compose themselves, see
So how could I write a sonnet or a song for a
Man who dislikes jazz and prefers the opera?

You ask if I’m familiar with the Bard,
His sonnets with some fondness I regard.
Prolific poet emboldened by your age,
Are we not merely players on life’s stage?

Our words have power we cannot comprehend:
When wielded wrongly, wound; when well, they mend.