Insectinside

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    Insectinside

    I fell off a leaf
    And descended like an elephant with a torn parachute,
    A sparrow with marrow wings,

    I was a statue suddenly lifted by a feather,

    In a chaotic pace, placed, into a cramp contorted space,
    I watched giants conversing,
    Mountains nursing and monoliths perching,

    Like larks foreboding our marches,
    Wish I could speak to the wind,
    With clipped wings,
    Beg for the sun to move over head again,

    The seeds will grow next feast,
    My leaf will carry another,
    But this world will still change,
    The same way it has.. forever,

    Whispers spoken, through a crickets legs,
    To describe the night can be safe, and not only for the dead

    I march
    Only accepting the pieces attached,
    Until the spider makes my suit,
    Or Venus traps me with a grin

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    Tempestlady commented on Insectinside

    12-26-2010

    You should check out some of Artie's dark poetry. You have a similar style. Write on......

    BringMeBullets commented on Insectinside

    02-18-2010

    It's a dream... I cannot find words great enough to describe what you have written. This is wonderful. I am proud to say that I saved it into my favorites. Great write. I am looking forward to reading more of your work.

    lightcourier commented on Insectinside

    03-17-2009

    liked your imagery and rearrangment of connections.

    Tray4 commented on Insectinside

    03-04-2009

    wow damn

    dahlusion commented on Insectinside

    02-26-2009

    This is beautifully surreal, and, in its surreality, a bit hard to follow. I love the opening paragraph. And this line, "Whispers spoken, through a crickets legs" —— perfect!

    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

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