Holidays say hello to the return of the Obvious

[Completely Obvious]

So I'm going to try writing a poem a day for a month, I was planning on starting yesterday because it was my birthday, but I forgot... Better late than never, right?

Critiques are welcomed with warm cocoa and a seat by the fire. ^_^


Day One: Birthday Friend

I named her Milkdud,
the Music Maker, adorable
like lily scented quartz
in the palm of my hand. Li-
ving proof technology is
evolving in my ears, your
songs have willed forth a voice.
(I've discovered you like
some discover God, but I know
you're more omnipotent with only
500 songs.)

[SkyTigress]

heart

[Completely Obvious]

SkyTigress

heart

whee

[Completely Obvious]

Day Two: No preference

The tang of blooming summers
affects my lazy bone,
disciplinary nerves lose their nerve
to try and keep me straight.

I go shoeless in measures of
conventional swamps disguised
as sidewalks, rolling my toes
like waves to understand
the cement.

Disregarding schedules, disregarding time,
and promptly following my list
of irresponsibilities. Like a worm
managing to stay underground
and wiggle.

Dates go forgotten
and misplaced on a calendar
that still whispers March
hanging in a lie.

In the warmth of fresh weather
I become my own mold,
lying still to cook.

[Completely Obvious]

Day Three: On my shoulder

Years I have imagined
befriending a bird.
Locking it up
nice and secure with room to flutter
against instinct
then releasing it with floor below
to snub
because any hollow born flyer
doesn't accept that gravity
loves everyone.

[Completely Obvious]

Day Four: There is harmony in nature

The first pitch in the room
was the same as a robin
in the shadow of daybreak
out for an early worm.

The second pitch chorded
along, an aluminum baseball bat
collided with a mercedes windshield,
but maybe an octave higher.

The third was the same sound
as a man clinking a crystal glass
with a woman across the iron
framed table.

"Here's to karma."

[The last Decepticon]

Completely Obvious

Day Three: On my shoulder

Years I have imagined
befriending a bird.
Locking it up
nice and secure with room to flutter
against instinct
then releasing it with floor below
to snub
because any hollow born flyer
doesn't accept that gravity
loves everyone.

rofl rofl

[Completely Obvious]

heart

[sometimes broken]

These are pretty good over all! I like what you're doing, keep it up!

[Completely Obvious]

Day Five: I don't believe in high school

This is the 7:50 bell reminding
everyone that we shouldn't be up
at the hour. This is the white board
tallying all the same s**t--
weighty backpacks, cold water, feet,
extremely clear mirrors, grafitti, etc..
just letting everyone become a couple
years hornier, a few beers less sober,
and be d e t a c h e d from the lies
like dust bunnies eventually narrowing
a final truth:
you really should've been cleaning.

[Completely Obvious]

Day Six: Hippies have more fun

We are the Greeks with our discus,
the sun freckling the backs
of our necks like they're its target
for a kiss. Mentally, in the waves
that face us, we get enough kisses
from each other
to hold front against negative
nerve endings.

There is no loop in our field,
and no chemicals in this air to choke
our inspiring words, this can sometimes
explain why we all feel out of the "in".
We are unchaperoned teenagers
that have acquired the taste for
something totally non-mandatory
and the taste of grass.

Major injuries are bragging rights
and joking grounds, for we recognize stupidity
when it decides to direct ankles
improperly. And hell, when a foul's a foul's
a foul, and "I don't want him on my
team" are the foe's blackest words,
who needs friends?
My enemies rock.

[Zero is an Integer]

sometimes broken

These are pretty good over all! I like what you're doing, keep it up!

Indeed.

[Completely Obvious]

Thanks you guys. ^^

But if we keep this up I'm gonna get a big head. . .

Now quick! Someone prompt me for tomorrow!!

[Completely Obvious]

Day Seven: I have no very little therapist skills

She dreams about her future
like it was actual
as a reality show.
Dazing in the evenings
because her life is a cloud now--
she has no part in the world
unless it rains.
Her unhealthy little shadow
has more playtime
and batterized motivation,
a depressed somebody
attached to itself,
tormented by this path
of a drooping flower.

[Completely Obvious]

Day Eight: Minuet in G Major

"This is it,
this is the big one."

Let's make a parade of the dis-
oooooo order
and wonder we invent.
All of us with loud red flags
waving off our personality
defects.

It's as the concern snowballs
and miscommunication is our output.

Hippies and schedules
blend like tomatoes and jello,
ready to leave a stinging
vomit in your mouth
when ooooooooooooo separate

they're quite fine.