09-08-2015, 08:07 AM
Cut Me an Atmoshpere
the camera-shy knife
does not bleach the canvas.
It shrieks like the
handicapped sky,
it flays and breaks
the sad atmosphere.
It carves apart the
cumulus', cirrus', and
the stratus' smiles.
It parts the bones
of the Oxygen, Nitrogen,
and trace breaths.
The space station above,
turns around the pan
of the frying egg of Earth
and cringes at the sharpness
of my hidden knife.
The cave-loving under-the-
table steel steals the
shrieking sky away,
it dampens the burning
stars above, and it
sands away the trees' bark.
The flat frying egg of
this world, is no longer
an egg with a yolk, it's
all white here. It's
all grown so bland.
Thank you everyone for taking the time to read my poem. I don't generally share with a large audience at all (generally just my very caring girlfriend.) Feel free to tear it apart and ask any questions you'd like to hear an answer to!!!
EDIT: quickly changed the spacing in the poem.
the camera-shy knife
does not bleach the canvas.
It shrieks like the
handicapped sky,
it flays and breaks
the sad atmosphere.
It carves apart the
cumulus', cirrus', and
the stratus' smiles.
It parts the bones
of the Oxygen, Nitrogen,
and trace breaths.
The space station above,
turns around the pan
of the frying egg of Earth
and cringes at the sharpness
of my hidden knife.
The cave-loving under-the-
table steel steals the
shrieking sky away,
it dampens the burning
stars above, and it
sands away the trees' bark.
The flat frying egg of
this world, is no longer
an egg with a yolk, it's
all white here. It's
all grown so bland.
Thank you everyone for taking the time to read my poem. I don't generally share with a large audience at all (generally just my very caring girlfriend.) Feel free to tear it apart and ask any questions you'd like to hear an answer to!!!
EDIT: quickly changed the spacing in the poem.