Probably none of you know about my singing, but I’ve spent the past year and a half composing these songs, and then all of this past summer and school year to record it and get it out there. Please check out my music, I hope you will all enjoy it! You can find the links on my new “Buy my album” page.
lots of love,
Golden Star Poetry
go to the cemetary
by the privacy of which
you will find a trundle of papers
by the gravestone;
each of them
was an unsent letter
addressed to you.
You may find it strange
that I had no courage
to speak to you directly
after inking into the
endless paper void,
that i was afraid
somehow,
but
(I loved you).
please don’t forget
how i
walked
endlessly
with you
through the back
house acres
like we were
schoolchildren.
please don’t remember
the silent graveyard days
when i sat impenetrable
not speaking or sleeping.
please forgive the
sporadic bursts of
anger.
and even though
i was a terrible writer
i made you a story
even though
i was a terrible speaker
i told you i was waiting for you.
so go to the cemetary
and find the trundle of papers
by your gravestone;
each of them
was an unsent letter
addressed to you.
You may find it strange
that I had no courage
to speak to you in person
after inking into the
endless paper void,
that i was afraid
somehow,
but
I loved you,
and all i can see
are your smiling eyes
by my windowsille
when i try to look outside
to the world
that seems as dull
and senseless
as the rotting earth
Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry
ps. sorry if this reads more like prose than poetry!
i wanted your peach face
round and soft as a
moon in the field
there was nothing else but
black felt tip marker
to darken the night out
(oh you were peaches,
and soft melted reams
paper ripping at the seams!)
and you never really
saw the moon rise up
out of its climate shelter
near the fizz and pop
of silver becoming bronze
you just stared at me
you just thought it was
the day to get up with the wind
and pack your bags
even when you felt like
sleeping in,
and i held the trace of your hand
like a whisper,
in mine,
as the frame of your shrinking chest became
the vestage of
the breath-held early morning
even as the flowers
sprang up, like they always do
from the moist earth
to crinkle open their paper thin
dry petals on my skin
I still saw myself
englittered in a paper mâché moon
a peach face for the high noon
waiting for you.
Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry
milk
is on the fringe
bat my eyelashes,
grin;
soap
is in the holes
drain the tub-ub
and smile
sometimes
that upside-down
harp,
makes the sound
of an inner dry cry
makes the sound
of an innocent girl
trying to hide.
milk,
is on the fringe
hold his gaze;
dazed.
soap,
is in the holes
drain tub-ub
and smile.
he mentions
time
he mentions
Rapport
he mentiones
goete
he mentions
wanderlust
and now and then
philosphy
“oh, I didn’t mean
it”
you said,
“you know me;
I said it
because
you were standing on
my smile”
(my smile)
Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 