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Creative Endeavors / Lee Skinner - Moth milk (Poem)
« on: September 25, 2010, 12:48:31 am »
I don't often write poetry but i thought i'd post some anyways 
Moth Milk
In twilight they called me, in night they enthralled me
Lifting my limbs with the whistling strings
I & my kin were considered a sin, Curlding milk while flexing our wings
The dusty old moth settles silent and soft,
A tramp of a past butterfly
With simple objectives & simple incentives,
A soul of a soul wallows by
Surely we strive to do more with this life
Than to orbit ourselve round a light
Grasped at left handed the fables demanded
We fear superstition and spite
A page from the book made of spittle and soot
had been thrown in the river of plenty
Requesting a gift from the lowering drifts,
up flew the heart scarred and dented
A page from the book made of spittle and soot
States you never get something for nothing
A just like the moth we have tried to fly off
But it seems we were caught undeserving
In twilight they called me, in night they enthralled me
Lifting my limbs with the whistling strings
I & my kin were considered a sin, Curlding milk while flexing our wings
(C) 2010
Untitled
Stormy sky fluorescent cry
Watercolour clouded eyes
Curly hair of eyebrow bush
Eyeballs wander roll and rush
Over hills and in the glen
Mangy fox can flaunt his den
Overbite as white as snow
O.c.d, grubby window
Scrubbing till your fingers bleeds
In blood you hide your soul & seams
Like little engraved candles
Like little instruction manuals
Maybe I had fallen through the leaflet in your hand
Face down turned upright and burned carpet, paper sand
Dirty noses pushed and smushed up against my guitar
Sniffing out a song to sing below a beating heart
Arteries all clogged up with your herbalistic lore
Like tobacco, and mother’s wart, thyme and lavender
Maybe all this hippy shit means nothing after all
No way to prove the right and wrong no scriptures on the wall
He said to you “Believe in this, relinquish all the rest”
Like memories of Sunday school when I could not protest
I was just an infant; a tiny infantile
When mother ripped me from her chest and wandered down the aisle
Incey wincey spider climbing up the spout
I dipped my head in fantasy and drank till I blacked out
Stormy sky fluorescent cry
Watercolour clouded eyes
Curly hair of eyebrow bush
Eyeballs wander roll and rush
(C)2010
Moth Milk
In twilight they called me, in night they enthralled me
Lifting my limbs with the whistling strings
I & my kin were considered a sin, Curlding milk while flexing our wings
The dusty old moth settles silent and soft,
A tramp of a past butterfly
With simple objectives & simple incentives,
A soul of a soul wallows by
Surely we strive to do more with this life
Than to orbit ourselve round a light
Grasped at left handed the fables demanded
We fear superstition and spite
A page from the book made of spittle and soot
had been thrown in the river of plenty
Requesting a gift from the lowering drifts,
up flew the heart scarred and dented
A page from the book made of spittle and soot
States you never get something for nothing
A just like the moth we have tried to fly off
But it seems we were caught undeserving
In twilight they called me, in night they enthralled me
Lifting my limbs with the whistling strings
I & my kin were considered a sin, Curlding milk while flexing our wings
(C) 2010
Untitled
Stormy sky fluorescent cry
Watercolour clouded eyes
Curly hair of eyebrow bush
Eyeballs wander roll and rush
Over hills and in the glen
Mangy fox can flaunt his den
Overbite as white as snow
O.c.d, grubby window
Scrubbing till your fingers bleeds
In blood you hide your soul & seams
Like little engraved candles
Like little instruction manuals
Maybe I had fallen through the leaflet in your hand
Face down turned upright and burned carpet, paper sand
Dirty noses pushed and smushed up against my guitar
Sniffing out a song to sing below a beating heart
Arteries all clogged up with your herbalistic lore
Like tobacco, and mother’s wart, thyme and lavender
Maybe all this hippy shit means nothing after all
No way to prove the right and wrong no scriptures on the wall
He said to you “Believe in this, relinquish all the rest”
Like memories of Sunday school when I could not protest
I was just an infant; a tiny infantile
When mother ripped me from her chest and wandered down the aisle
Incey wincey spider climbing up the spout
I dipped my head in fantasy and drank till I blacked out
Stormy sky fluorescent cry
Watercolour clouded eyes
Curly hair of eyebrow bush
Eyeballs wander roll and rush
(C)2010
