All the literaturey works that were featured on my 'Give Us Attention' series of articles will be collected here.
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anarchy by DamhsaGaoithe, literature
Literature
anarchy
i am not a writer
any longer.
what have I lost, between
these nineteen forty-eight pages
and the whisper of the observant,
clinical streetlamps
we waited under –
for an instant
only
immersed in knowledge
without the aid of chopin,
or the selfish scholarliness
of the summer rains
that reared us.
do we cease to seek the sunlight
after we’ve felt the angst
and desolation
of winter tears?
i. Nunitus
He stroked the concavities
Of the moon
Like no one ever had before,
Fascinating her with
Mercury
And clockwork...
So like herself, she
Whispered.
ii. Amavi
She called him strong,
I think.
Childlike.
He slept
On the curve of her hips:
Too light,
Too restless.
iii. Barbara
Waking in solitude,
He found the moon's chalk
Gift
Crushed in his left pocket.
A cup is just a cup
until it's the last cup that she touched,
and a car
is just a way from a to b
until it's the way that she arrived
at z.
A picture in a frame
is lovely to see, even if only ever viewed
in the background, passively,
but when the image
locks in place
the last smile on her face
then your grief turns to regret
for the memory
trapped beneath the glass.
An old pair of slippers,
tucked neatly beside the door,
stepping over
every time you cross the threshold,
until the day
when you have to toss those old things away
and they are as heavy as anchors
and more treasured
than diamond.
A scent that fills your head,
the comfort of a f
here's what it is to be an adult
you pay off your credit cards
and a day later, your hot water heater is no longer working and is leaking all over your garage
you didn't bother to research options
so when you finally realize you can get a cheaper alternative to your fancy coffee drink
you've probably 'wasted' at least $75. on coffee.
you buy things on other peoples' recommendations
and are quickly disenchanted
either with the things, the people, or just buying things in general
you stop hearing
or is it listening
and the magic settles into your bones instead of your eyes
and sparks up at new moments, the baby's laugh,
the way you
The Weight of High Hopes by Loftydreams101, literature
Literature
The Weight of High Hopes
I have run low on fuel
At a weary road’s end
I have withdrawn from the skies
In a fiery swan-dive
I have plunged in the surf
From the weight of high hopes
With everything and everyone
Entrusted to me
red khakis, plaid shirt
the smell of dirty vanilla and last night's cigarette;
where do you wander, vagabond,
with your headphones pulled high
and your step full of false swagger?
disdain has carved itself a home
across your mouth, filled with the desire
to be anywhere but on public transportation.
what manner of smile do you dole out
with that smoke hovering above your lips?