Silver Cog - A Steam Punk PoemSilver Cog
A Steam Punk Poem
Hands so black and covered in grease
If I could find that precious piece
We'd fly this ship, they'd be amazed!
The sails set loose, the flag be raised.
When it's in place, we'll leave this fog.
If I could find that silver cog...
4 AM ForeverIt was the last song in the set, and he stood there idly, waiting for the cue. This would be the last hometown performance before they set out on a world tour, for around 8 months at least. But, after all this time, he just couldn't let it go. His eyes had scanned the crowd during every song, every verse that poured from his lips. It was wishful thinking on his part, and those brilliant blue eyes would light up when he spotted a flash of red hair then dim with the knowledge that it wasn't him.4 AM Forever in Short Stories More Like This
Roxas was in pain, so much pain. It had been 4 months since he had last seen his best friend; his other half; his Axel. The fight had been something horrible, especially when words not meant were belted across the room. The clock sat there innocently, bright red numbers glaring 4:00 am when the door was slammed for a final time. That was the first time that Roxas had ever screamed his pain on the roofto
Fatal Slip - A Steam Punk PoemFatal SlipFatal Slip - A Steam Punk Poem in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A Steam Punk Poem
The timbers blazed,
the ship's been razed.
The captain made one fatal slip.
The alarms made no sound
as we neared the ground.
And Fear held us in his grip.
They closed our eye
so they could hide.
And the console didn't blip.
The sky ran red
and we knew we were dead.
As the pirates boarded the ship.
routine maintenanceEvery year, they marched meroutine maintenance in Free Verse More Like This
to a hall full
of clocks that pulsed
synonymous with my clicking limbs.
The watchmaker had tools
for fingers - a screwdriver fifth;
he pointed with pliers, and we grew
large behind his splayed palms.
The room was filled with
clocks, freshly polished.
Their metal frames gleamed, groaned
as they curved into place
on the tables, in spirals.
'You may begin.'
My eyes glowed blue, too bright
for quartz; head gears
whirred too fast, my hamster heart.
Dust shook from my hands;
exhaled motes, dancing
in steam, were cooled and dripped down
the window. I sat,
he cut open my head;
pulled out gears, interrogated
as he went. He wanted to learn
what I knew, not how I felt -
he snapped a gear when I was
wrong, left me to close
in terminusyou say my timeline is infinitesimalin terminus in Free Verse More Like This
when compared to your hourglass
anatomy; a never ending cycle ticking
time away like a metronome, and
again gravity refuses to bend for me;
i cannot see the fault lines in our skies
any longer. my crystal ball is cloudy,
filled to the brink of destruction --
your broken words and the obscure
misology that is to be our fate.
The Silence Is Never EmptyThe silence is never empty.The Silence Is Never Empty in Free Verse More Like This
Prometheus perched at an accounting desk is
Offering a heartbeat in return for a saner existence
And a handful of gears, ticking and clicking and tapping.
If only the eagle that comes to purge your body
Far more frequently these days than you'd prefer
Was not your own hand, pale and fragile and shaking.
Fingers curling clockwise around an oily scalpel,
Trunks of music and novels and things you once loved
Forgotten like so many joys, sanity and safety and silence.
Your gift was once intelligence and for it you suffer now
Perpetually forced to rewire a failing body and not miss
The things you are replacing, muscle and flesh and blood.
The silence is never empty for a clockwork man.
where is my songbirdi. constantswhere is my songbird in Free Verse More Like This
naivete at the forefront,
thrust willingly into apathetic fervor
chemistry dictates illness
but god is the cure-all
rustic to metropolis
every vile crevice between
shores do not exist any more
the hook, line, sinker (death)
Poison WingsBetween glass walls,Poison Wings in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
a neon butterfly dances,
Eroded metal creaks;
dead eyes, leaking oil,
keep timeless watch.
scrape copper hills--
a man-made landscape
left to adventures
of bionic minds.
Thick wire fingers
from chipped glass.
Neon butterfly stutters,
poison wings beating--
the life that got away.