Category: Poetry

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2695 by Tyler Knott Gregson

PLEASE READ THIS ONE! 

Maybe we’re too proud of ourselves,
lost in this delusion of grandeur, can’t see
past our own noses, maybe we believe too hard
in our own myths.  

Right now, mothers and fathers
are buying bulletproof backpacks
to fill with binders and magic markers, still
scented like simpler times are even a remote
possibility.  Keep telling ourselves
we are the greatest country on earth.

Active shooter drills and boredom
trickles across the faces of children
hiding under desks, behind the
barricades they build against doors,
against windows to the hallways.
The boy who cried wolf, over and again,
until one day the wolf actually comes,
bullets biting like teeth, and crying
takes on a new sound.  Keep telling ourselves
we are the greatest country on earth.  

Martin Luther King Jr. would be 90 this birthday,
if pride and hatred and blind ignorance
didn’t steal him away.  What would he think
of where we are?  The water fountains
lost their labels, but the divide continues,
flames from burning crosses have moved
from front yards to the stunted hearts of the
hateful, but still they burn.  Keep telling ourselves
we are the greatest country on earth.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2595 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Let every road be
a foggy road
and let me find them all.  
Let the hours fill
with adventure, and
let my legs ache
from the wandering,
I was built for this,
and I’ve no use
for staying so
still.  

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2594 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Couldn’t bear to wake you,
sun rose and filled the room,
but you paid no mind.
Wouldn’t shift in the sheets,
stayed still as death,
scared that any sound would
rouse you, would
stop the slumber, the sweet
surrender to some dream place.
Hours I stayed,
stealing glances at the serenity
you found.
Hours I watched,
wishing I knew the way
to join you there.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2593 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Odd
how we fit,
shapes really,
when reduced down
just shapes,
and mine are yours,
negative space
to your positive fill,
where you aren’t
I am, and the opposite
too is true.  
Turn your back on me
and I fit into
your curves,
face me, and my nose
fills the space
above yours.  
We were made
this way.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2592 by Tyler Knott Gregson

They got eyes for looking in,
but mine flutter off,
butterfly winged they, all light
on the edges of things, calm
until approached, off and out
and up and gone then.  Gone.

You’re still petals to me,
all pollen drenched and shining,
you’re still calling me in,
and I’ll come, flapping up to
rest a spell.  Be patient,
still, and I’ll stay,
reach slowly and my wings
will forget to be.
I’ll stay.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2591 by Tyler Knott Gregson

I’ve started apologizing to animals,
no deep bow or prostration upon the earth
before them, but I stop for a breath,
face the eyes, suspicious for good reason,
and offer up a dozen times
I am sorry, I am sorry.  

We know nothing,
infants fumbling over our feet,
destructors of what we do not understand,
untranslatable screams for what we want,
taking until there is nothing left to take
then demanding more.
These are hungers that cannot be fed,
thirsts that stay unquenched as water levels
rise, as starvation dances with exhaustion
and ends species here long before
we.

I am sorry, I am sorry,
I offer a dozen more, forgive me
for my part in this, forgive us
for all we have
taken.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2590 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

Greenhouse love this,
insulated from
the frost,
warm in the dark months,
hot when the sun
shines.  
Oh how things grow
when we surround them,
how the roots know
to sink so deep,
to hold on
so tight.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2589 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

Romanticize
the gift giving, the words
that try for explanation,
the nuance of a love story,
details shifting
as the rememberer
changes.  
Define it that way
if you wish, flower it up
however you will,
but all I know is that

we fell asleep
holding hands.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2588 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

Time measured
in the growing of hair,
on my face, the top of my head,
in the healing I see in you.
I know little else of hours,
weeks and days confuse me,
the avalanche of minutes
I try to dig myself out of.
Strange to be suspended
between a was and a will,
the gravity-less float
between solid walls.

With tender fingers,
trim the extra
that has found its way
atop me.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #2586 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

Will it normalize,
will I get used to it,
will I forget to be blown away
buy the endurance
built in and inherent,
the knack for survival,
the clawing at light in a sea
of darkness, that this heart
holds?  
Astounded, for now,
by what these shoulders
can shrug off.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-