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[Writing] Arachnest - Printable Version +- The VG Resource (https://www.vg-resource.com) +-- Forum: Archive (https://www.vg-resource.com/forum-65.html) +--- Forum: July 2014 Archive (https://www.vg-resource.com/forum-139.html) +---- Forum: Creative Zone (https://www.vg-resource.com/forum-86.html) +----- Forum: Creativity (https://www.vg-resource.com/forum-21.html) +----- Thread: [Writing] Arachnest (/thread-19524.html) |
[Writing] Arachnest - Oddball - 02-14-2012 My day spent watching exhibits lent itself To watching people instead Whispering abject secrets to life-stolen Birds, stuffed with once known shapes Of elements within the cases Sweet kisses made for them Hoarse coughing layering the glass He leaned for that cough He placed his spit and germs on purpose On that spot On that glass Birds sit on branches, watching out Watching for spit globules That might ruin their feathers That might ruin their preservation Or their glass Awkward whispers of my own Into beeping recorder Worried that I might provoke this beast Who yearns for the wing-ed reptiles While I think again of the millipedes floors below Layers below the soil Where the mites rest in group with them Where the arachnid classed mites Didn’t feed on the millipede, Finding there a soft haven A bundle of vermin On my walk home I wonder at my haven I wonder at that Xray That I always wanted Where among my bones Were chitin sprawls Eight pointed With bulbous mothers lying In the spaces between And the portrait That would surely inspire awe When they slipped through Pockets in my skin Nigh imperceptible As their silken cords That will stretch outward behind me A million dangling legs Blowing in the wind From a million strings As the bird whisperer No longer worried With glass cases Strums his fingers Across this harp Lost now of its ends Breaking off with parachutes To ride the breeze Where some will become Homes to those parasites Arachnid love children Clinging to mother for Haven Climbing inside Their web ways A spun out nest Eyes aware of the birds, Desperately hugging branches With all eight limbs These birds receive no whispers No divine truths from the Mouth that leaves kisses On the glass casing These birds are wild and free. |