Lights.

Faster, faster

Speed of lightening

Crushing, crushing

Smashed punched peeled

Whirling whirring

Fast paced

The sound of a thousand things happening at once

Blending into one unifying sound

The way every voice and scream on our Earth sounds like a solid static to everyone around us

Traffic horns and sirens

School bells and marching bands

And music, TV, footsteps, high-fives, crinkly fabrics, papers, key boards clacking

All rhythmically in sync with an unknown beat

We complete the motions

And together create one tone

Ringing out into what we don’t know

Harmonizing with other galaxies

Speeding along faster than what is imaginable

Screeching brakes slam

And finish the chorus

We launch bombs and they steady the ever charging, marching, base line

It's there

Always there

You don’t have to know about it,

You don’t even have to know your part

And you add the to speed

The eventually shattering speed

The eventually shattering speed that will increase and increase

And increase and increase

And increase

Until it reaches the end

And we don’t know what the encore is either

Which is okay

Because in the middle there will be silence.

11/5/2014

Riley Welch

Gas-lit Stars

Streaking air bubbles cast themselves towards air

Looking for escape

Pulling itself up through the bitter sweet 

Reaching the top

Reflecting onto glass like stars streaking through the universe

Circling rings

Planets

Stretching across universes and passing through Suns and systems and spiraling past comets

Answering questions that we know will never be answered

Answering questions that we won't even know to ask

And someday that streaking reflection might show itself

Might tell us what it learned

But until then

It'll reach the top

Bursting through that bitter sweet

And surfacing to rejoin it's likeness

Or enemies. 

11/2/2014

Riley Welch

#5

A shining blazing sun

Lights up the hot before evening but not afternoon

And cars with automatic lights 

Look out of place 

As they shine into already lit space

Blinding eyes by the sun and the streets

Looking into bright white LEDs 

And heat penetrates layers of jackets and the skin underneath lights up

Ablaze with sunlight

Beaming that hot almost evening but not afternoon. 

10/30/2014

Riley welch

Favorite Fridays

In the Back of Reality

BY: ALLEN GINSBERG

railroad yard in San Jose 
I wandered desolate 
in front of a tank factory 
and sat on a bench 
near the switchman's shack. 

A flower lay on the hay on 
the asphalt highway 
--the dread hay flower 
I thought--It had a 
brittle black stem and 
corolla of yellowish dirty 
spikes like Jesus' inchlong 
crown, and a soiled 
dry center cotton tuft 
like a used shaving brush 
that's been lying under 
the garage for a year. 

Yellow, yellow flower, and 
flower of industry, 
tough spiky ugly flower, 
flower nonetheless, 
with the form of the great yellow 
Rose in your brain! 
This is the flower of the World. 

Stationary Static

With symmetry comes illusions

Like circular wheels

Turning so fast

You think they're standing still

And the road is just pulling itself up to keep the car going at the speed the dial tells it 

And the people behind them

Get caught up in the bunched up mess of the worlds spin

Like a bunched up rug the grip of your shoe can't grab

Or a wrinkled table cloth pulled quickly enough to leave dishes in place

Like that car

Standing still at 75 miles per hour along the road. 

11/2/2014

Riley Welch

Word Search

I could drown in piled up words

Covering my head in a pit of jumbled letters

Humbling down my slang ridden speech

And punctuating every sentence I thought didn't need it.

I could drown in gags and suffocation 

Gasping an thrashing among serif 

And sans serif edges

Climbing up the edges of crisp Helvetia L's but I slip and topple into the dictionary sea underneath me

Trying to scream for help

But my tongue

Can't seem

To form

The words

10/23/2014

Riley Welch

DAYS

I feel I wander aimlessly
I don't know what is next

I don't know what day it is
They all get jumbled up

Weekdays have no curfews
And weekends, early starts

I swirl cursive letters, neatly on receipts
And scrawl out notes in class
Like there is no need to read

I cannot focus on the next, just vague dates in the future
Weeks and months are blending

Together, drifting further and further.
Until my schedule realigns.

10/27/2014
Riley Welch