to come

Sometimes I get fearful thoughts about my impending mortality. And while I’m not too concerned about the afterward, I do fret about what will happen to all the words I’ve written that I’ve never bothered to share.

If I kicked it tomorrow, my computer and all its contents would simply disappear.

And all my writings with it.

So I’ve got folders and folders of things I wrote when I was young (from like 15-17), and amongst them is a document containing over 40,000 words of poetry.

40 THOUSAND words.

Of poetry.

A lot of it seems pretty bad to me now. Some start off really good then trail off as past-me obviously couldn’t figure out how to wrap things up.

Anyways, I’m going to start posting those old poems on Kimichee.

I’ll try to post the original along with a now-me-asized version that will hopefully make the old words a bit better.

Also, if you recognize any of my poems? STFU.

Yes, it’s me. Hello to you too.

Please don’t out me as the giant nerd I am.

If you know some other me? Then congratulations. You are the knower of a secret thing. STFU.

So anyways. Poetry ahoy!

And STFU.

Pax,

~HarperWCK

BLUE WORLD

The blue world is just before the night,
the blue world is just before the dawn,
my world is just before there’s light,
before the singing of each new song.
Though I wait for something,
the blue world gets in my way,
I am of the blue world,
it’s my soul and heart and everything.

I never get the things I want,
I’m always just too late,
I am of the blue world.
When the sky is blue,
and the world is almost dark,
but there’s a kind of inner beauty,
that is where I am.

I am of the blue world,
before the coming of the dawn,
and the coming of the night.
I am of the blue world,
a being of sadness and regret,
I am of the blue world,
a being of hope and not as yet.

I am of the blue world.