Tag: inspired

Meddle

Biko2 Comments

Samuel Zeller.jpg

The numbers trickle

like rain

on window panes

On summer mornings

mourning

the disappearance

of tranquility

and rationality

In worlds moving

across computer screens

like words typed

at 200 over the limit

per minute

Opening scars

left unfilled

by likes

and open mics

On Sunday nights

in bars

that barred

the entrance

of those who had words

poured hard

out of mouths

that could

never control

their role

in societies

we called ourselves

Like words

that stood

dead wood

Because

they controlled

us

 

© Hudson Biko

Photograph: Samuel Zeller

 

Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Meddle

Survive

Biko3 Comments

Annie Spratt (2).jpg

You feel it in the air sometimes

lingering

in its repetition

In its own rendition

of the sound

made by

swarms

of bees

Buzzing

In hives

that survive

the strands

of time

In time

Still stinging

and ringing

In metaphorical ears

that even after

all these years

Still

kinda

sound the same

Still

kinda

feel the same

Maybe slightly kinder

to ears

less fragile

after years

of buzzing

But the stings

never heal

No,

those ones stay

Those ones

linger

Morphing into

what we try

to be

Those ones

become

our own rendition

of the bee

that once stung

And maybe that’s all we ever really needed

Maybe that’s our buzz

 

© Hudson Biko

Photograph: Annie Spratt

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Collaboration

Biko3 Comments

We watched as random turned into linear.

As we realized

that we could never loom

together chemistry

or see

what loomed behind

the walls and blinds

that bound us together,

As we realized that echoes

and shadows

are only reflections

of ourselves

:

Shadows we tried to set light on.

But reflections

are reiterations

that never truly disappear.

they loom behind

walls and blinds

:

Blinding us

in their chemistry.

 

© Hudson Biko

Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Collaboration

Sanity

Biko6 Comments

Caleb George.jpg

It was an afternoon.

As we found ourselves

sitting in rooms

silenced by those

who seek sanity

and their own silence

,

By those

who seek

more

,

Partially empty.

devoid

from voids

of temporary

interactions

as silence

gave in to

bounds

of sound

as it began

to feel

like the

seals

were finally peeling

off

;

But

we should have

known better

,

tethering

on the precipice

of sound

isn’t really

escaping silence

,

All it ever does

is seal

u

s

in it

,

No matter how much we try to peel it off.

 

© Hudson Biko

Photograph: Caleb George