Where does wind come from?
And where does it go?
I’m not really sure that the wind even knows.
May I ask you a favor?
When the time is right,
Take me where the wind blows.
Given the speed with which the Earth turns around itself, I find the absence of wind much more puzzling than wind.
yeah, and what’s up with that jetstream thing? there’s too much stuff going on up in that atmosphere
The Xanax was kicking in right about the first line, wasn’t it?
My pain’s a color crystal urn,
Covered cloisonne and gold
Harbors hues that fairly burn,
Embers pulsing with the cold.
And then it just gets dark after that. Ah, youth. Bloody college.
wow. i typo-d a whole word out…
time to edit and pretend nobody noticeded
you just write that little ditty now?
yeah. college… yeah
Naw, that was an oldie but a goodie left over from the dorm days. I had way too much brain and way too little stimulation. The liberal arts are all too often a tour of the scholastic regurgitation nation. I wrote dirty and terrifying poems to fill in the gaps between weight lifting, partying, and sleep.
it appears you and i have the same view on liberal arts majors. i felt like most the things i learned in school i learned on my own time, but if i wasn’t in school i wouldn’t have been there to learn them.
Wonderfully whimsical from an interesting mind. Nice work.
thanks so much for the comments :)
loved it :)
Very interesting. I am really enjoying these poems that leave a lot to the imagination.
thanks! i don’t do poems much cause they typically take so much work, but i’m glad I could get a few short ones out to ya’ll
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