Sir Peechizworth
TPF Noob!
Fuse
There are times when inspiration lights a flame inside me and I dont mean this metaphorically. I can feel the heat make its way through my feet as it grows up and out, and envelops the rest of me, like an angel giving me the best backrub ever, or the moment I first step into a steaming hot shower. There are times, when inspiration lights my insides on fire like my spine was a wick, and I mean it when I say that its tangible.
I can feel energy vibrating up my spine, a heat from that outside that made its way in as sound waves, a spirit that hits my ear and travels like sonar to my brain where it sets off a bomb. Like the high I get from coffee and a good book curled up with me on a soft chair, or the silence right before thunder.
Dont EVER let anyone tell you that words are empty. Because I can feel words inside me like incendiary and arson and I want to take this heat and use it to make someone else warm like a fireplace in December and brand new pajamas, because a fire that sits stagnant will eventually burn out, but if I can share this flame then the two of us might just burn a little brighter, a little longer.
And Ive written enough poems to know that inspiration and heat are the same thing. That flint and steel is the best idea that butane ever had. That when your pulse races at a rock concert, and you sweat with a hundred other people in awe of the same song, that the combined total rise temperature is nothing but the product of a chemical reaction between guitars and spotlights.
Because sometimes, you dont even need words to set someone on fire. Ive seen people ignite entire crowds with just one note tumbling down from their lips, or dripping off guitar strings, bass frets, and snare drums. So if I the words I speak are too fast, if the beat has left you breathless, or if you tripped over a phrase I said in the last stanza and missed everything else I said until now, all you have to do
Is listen
To this voice.
To listen with that beat in your chest and embrace the syncopation between the microphone and your pulse. To concentrate on consonants or pour over vowels and feel how desperately this poem wants you
To listen.
Listen to this voice
Listen to your voice
Love everyone around you like its your last day on this rock
And breath every last inch of your spirit into everything you do
So that you can die spent,
Completely exhausted
Knowing you either saved the world, or tried to.
Because the energy that you expend every day leaves your body as heat.
And with enough of that, Ive heard tell even the mountains themselves will catch fire.
This H is for Heart
I was dropped
Hit the ground like another Hiroshima
BOOM
Blew bits of me all over the walls of my brain
And staggered forth
little more than a silhouette
against the land of the rising sun
And I wandered
All over the place, looking for me
Because in the chaos, I forgot
That Im always right where Ive been
And that you, are all right where you belong
Someone told me once when you die
The priest says a prayer
To call all the bits of your soul back together again
From the people you left it with
That your soul is something
You give away wrapped in smiles,
Thats why when someone leaves you
Its easy to feel
Hollow
Until you realize
That they didnt leave you empty hearted
Just empty handed.
And its true,
That memories dont give great hugs
And words cant wipe away those tears
The years go by heedless of pleas
To please,
Just,
Stop
For a moment.
So in the space between a hummingbirds wing
I could, bring myself back to everyone.
To walk on waves and hop canyons
And send myself like a postcard
To everyone Ive ever met,
And everyone Ive yet to
So that before time could start back up again
I could give you my heart like a care-package
And whisper softly
Take care of this. Im coming back for it.
Someone told me once when you die
The priest says a prayer
To call all the bits of your soul back together again
From the people you left it with
That your soul is something
You give away wrapped in smiles,
Thats why when someone leaves you
Its easy to feel
Hollow
Until you realize
That I didnt leave you empty hearted
Just empty handed.
There are times when inspiration lights a flame inside me and I dont mean this metaphorically. I can feel the heat make its way through my feet as it grows up and out, and envelops the rest of me, like an angel giving me the best backrub ever, or the moment I first step into a steaming hot shower. There are times, when inspiration lights my insides on fire like my spine was a wick, and I mean it when I say that its tangible.
I can feel energy vibrating up my spine, a heat from that outside that made its way in as sound waves, a spirit that hits my ear and travels like sonar to my brain where it sets off a bomb. Like the high I get from coffee and a good book curled up with me on a soft chair, or the silence right before thunder.
Dont EVER let anyone tell you that words are empty. Because I can feel words inside me like incendiary and arson and I want to take this heat and use it to make someone else warm like a fireplace in December and brand new pajamas, because a fire that sits stagnant will eventually burn out, but if I can share this flame then the two of us might just burn a little brighter, a little longer.
And Ive written enough poems to know that inspiration and heat are the same thing. That flint and steel is the best idea that butane ever had. That when your pulse races at a rock concert, and you sweat with a hundred other people in awe of the same song, that the combined total rise temperature is nothing but the product of a chemical reaction between guitars and spotlights.
Because sometimes, you dont even need words to set someone on fire. Ive seen people ignite entire crowds with just one note tumbling down from their lips, or dripping off guitar strings, bass frets, and snare drums. So if I the words I speak are too fast, if the beat has left you breathless, or if you tripped over a phrase I said in the last stanza and missed everything else I said until now, all you have to do
Is listen
To this voice.
To listen with that beat in your chest and embrace the syncopation between the microphone and your pulse. To concentrate on consonants or pour over vowels and feel how desperately this poem wants you
To listen.
Listen to this voice
Listen to your voice
Love everyone around you like its your last day on this rock
And breath every last inch of your spirit into everything you do
So that you can die spent,
Completely exhausted
Knowing you either saved the world, or tried to.
Because the energy that you expend every day leaves your body as heat.
And with enough of that, Ive heard tell even the mountains themselves will catch fire.
This H is for Heart
I was dropped
Hit the ground like another Hiroshima
BOOM
Blew bits of me all over the walls of my brain
And staggered forth
little more than a silhouette
against the land of the rising sun
And I wandered
All over the place, looking for me
Because in the chaos, I forgot
That Im always right where Ive been
And that you, are all right where you belong
Someone told me once when you die
The priest says a prayer
To call all the bits of your soul back together again
From the people you left it with
That your soul is something
You give away wrapped in smiles,
Thats why when someone leaves you
Its easy to feel
Hollow
Until you realize
That they didnt leave you empty hearted
Just empty handed.
And its true,
That memories dont give great hugs
And words cant wipe away those tears
The years go by heedless of pleas
To please,
Just,
Stop
For a moment.
So in the space between a hummingbirds wing
I could, bring myself back to everyone.
To walk on waves and hop canyons
And send myself like a postcard
To everyone Ive ever met,
And everyone Ive yet to
So that before time could start back up again
I could give you my heart like a care-package
And whisper softly
Take care of this. Im coming back for it.
Someone told me once when you die
The priest says a prayer
To call all the bits of your soul back together again
From the people you left it with
That your soul is something
You give away wrapped in smiles,
Thats why when someone leaves you
Its easy to feel
Hollow
Until you realize
That I didnt leave you empty hearted
Just empty handed.