death of truth

a hard truth grows cold
no matter how often one is told
if it does not wear the crown
made of green and greed,
then truth is not what we
will reap from the seeds
we have sown, we will
only grow the ghosts
of ruined bones

brains without methods

there’s nothing random about thoughts
they are all caught up, needly folded into a box
of a brain, but unfortunately when it rains on
parades and the rooms turn gloomy grays
people desire a doctor holding a scalpel to
carve out and take all the darkness away
but a world without darkness
there really can’t be any light
we need both sides to understand the fight
for what is right. left and right,
right and wrong – what’s the difference
between the melody of what is spoken
compared to that hummed in a song?
at random, we can toss and turn
thoughts and ideas every which way
make them dance, make others sit
in the corners,
but we need all of them, in order to have
any justification or reason for whatever
convictions we feel we need to say
you can’t have a stance on anything
if everything doesn’t stand a chance

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: willy-nilly

love, untitled

i’d give my last breath
rest my soul under the waves
if it meant you could walk on water
bring you out of the darkness
illuminating your cave
we can save the moment when you
look into the ocean, you see me
gazing back at you, our heartbeats
rattling against the wind
reach out, touch your palm against mine –
soft and warm from the skin of the tide
don’t fear being brave – from over
here i’m still on your side

__
featured image credits: source unknown. 

pavements

the more we think, the more we mold
the more we take form, the bolder we become
we dispose of thoughts, get caught up from time to time
trying to regulate the world, impose a system
between what is yours and what is mine
same walls, same towers, different stories, different powers
all expecting us to live equally without question
we sort out the goodness, our unique qualities also sorted out
follow rules but also believe your an exception to the rules
individuality yet also teamwork is what school was all about
shouting at us to play tug-of-war with our minds from
every single angle, and they wonder why as generations grow
up they find themselves entangled in the ebb and flow of things
they call for us to step out of the group and march to our own drums
be that glowing red rose in a sea of yellow flowers
growing under the sun, yet before our paths are
even walked the laying of pavement has already begun

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: organize

laundry, hung to dry

you carried me away on your sleeve
then took off the shirt and threw it away
leaving me to wonder whether you’ll try me on
again, or will it hurt too much to
touch the fabric i used to press against
every time i folded myself against you

___
backdated Post a Day poem for June 20th, 2017

to unbreak another

i could rip into you
expose all of the vulnerable parts
of your heart, take away those aches
and pains so that we may gain
some common ground to
walk toward each other upon
___
backdated Post a Day poem for June 17th, 2017

too many numbers

rip the throat of the night out
with the angry hiss of nostalgic lyrics
that used to kiss your teenage heart
to sleep on Sundays, woke up broken
hearted on Mondays – went to school,
played your part – remembered the
answers for the exams but forgot
locker combinations, only to grow up
to find life would be a reflection
of those numbers and more numbers,
constantly being tested and detested
but instead of opening doors
we tend to lock ourselves
out, and at night, we stay up late
we are still trying to figure it all out

___
backdated Post a Day poem for June 12th, 2017

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