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Medusa  Aug 2018
foresting
Medusa Aug 2018
if i dig deep enough
surely i will find

true root of you
all i need of you
never given

once denied it seems
i must pine as tree to be
obsessively in love but perhaps

tis only envy, mortography
memorography, encapsulating me,
it won't last, tis just a mood

nothing a spell cannot be unspelled
but letters & songs they matter
more than we imagined
we are caught in between what

we felt then & where we want to be

who knows where

the time

goes?

remaining mortal is
curse enough
our love is mortality
writ in water, not dust

thus it lives on

because I wrote

it so
fast tracking these
S Olson Oct 2017
Love will grow in me sideways, a supine pine
sapling, shoveling mountainous glaciers of stone

embedded into my boiling erosions, melting
the anaerobic hot mud into a calmer froth.

We may kiss at the precipice of the abyss
our love has inevitably chewed through itself.  

And I will likely palm our weathers
into a river-swallowing sea

and you will hate me; desert of a future
companion’s ship—can I

swallow my dominance; that devotion
could bloom from this love’s wilderness,

foresting in perennial fullness,
prospering in the shared bed
rock we have carved into orchids.  

At the place where I will bury my bones
in the murderous entrancement of another,

taiga could storm from the soft ring of fire
between twenty interlocked evergreen fingers.
Paul A Moon Jul 2016
Which is my church with its green leaves, brown grass
and pine’s bark, all foresting in one motion.
I shall forest rituals of sacrifice,

but without Catholicizing faces drawn
from dark Crusading and my exiling.
Annaling to mark the sun’s solstice for Eastering
and holying days, the dew
coalescing upon the darkening and browning grass
at midnight and cooling air
arching constellations
and the mooning of the night: the cue
to lying for rest
by the small pool in this placing or
to strike, savaging at prey.

Owling as it does, darting as it does,
from a bed of branches, crying,
soundlessly shooting at a forest mouse, leaves
rustling for this night’s Nativity,
this one lifts its butterflying wings
like the soul’s silhouette
taken by an angeling force to heaven.
After owling, angeling, butterflying,
one must create Jesus as a verb.

Having witnessing these things,
limits are paining, as are knowings and doings.
The mouse must have been distracting
this owl from its offspring, thus it was Christing:
sacrificing itself for its children, thus fathering.

Seeing angels fluttering under the moonlight,
Hairshirting is my Church after living here,
after travelling through East of Eden in daylight.
  
Simplifying the Word---so heartwrenching---near
dawn or dusk, being as a penumbra’s cusp
I am Giotto’s halo in human form, keeper

of the haze, smoke, storm, and most of all, cup
from my own despairing.

Always there more to God than pain.

Churching myself is my work, thus by expressing
this foresting, owling, angeling, butterflying,  
I narrate my life’s kingdom.
Only beautiful words for my Beatrice, Florence,
and re-Edening.
Camilla Peeters Nov 2018
how have there been nights creating space
a vault of valued silver neck---lace play button play to me
toy tutorial: how to choke me and it is hours after midnight
i am alone in my room uncloaked my pictures upon tiny tiny windows i like to lick the blood out of the slits
grow slimes after midnight like a snail click click the right things and sadden

can i sink my fangs and hydrated as it is
a wet house all of the wallpaper ruined of bottles and of men
i hate that feeling when i put my head down and that is the last thing there is nothing nothing no struggle no bodies and legs
all anger aside i must admit
me all nails and fury me all small fit below the waist die gaily then

has anyone read anything on free will or has anyone stayed or left or has anyone survived can i lend out my own copy of free will two pages high look up the line across my back have you tried to follow me before foresting in motion
**** me in my feelings i have been begging the new moon for a new moon but IT HAS NEVER APPEARED BEFORE ME

IS THERE ANYONE I CAN HIGHLIGHT IN PURPLE AND OR IS THERE ANYONE I CAN PUT MY BACK AGAINST WHO IS WILLING TO LAY A FINGER ON ME

AND I FEEL BETRAYED should i always be banned
me me in shadows i am aware i have gotten dark i have not given permission for deep-rope-denied-roulette-gratuit-whir-phantasma

EVERYONE ON THIS SLUMP STAGE IS HIDING THEIR FINGERS IN MY MOUTH ONE TO ONE TO ONE I CAN NEVER SEE THE FACE THE FACE HURTS TOO MUCH IT IS THE RED FILTER THE EXPENSIVE ONE AND I CANNOT USE TOO MUCH OF IT IT FALLS BEFORE ME I BREAK MY KNEE-CAPS THANK YOU THANK YOU IT WAS WONDERFUL

my name is ssssss-sweetness all of a sudden
i stand before you and i am so mad i want to break your face-jaw neck-jaw your everything-jaw my name is pinky pinky and mutilation is satiric and narcissistic GO BECOME SICK OF IT AND I WILL SICK AND **** YOU AND THE HINT IS IT WILL CHANGE NOW THE SMELL IS AWAITED and the blood will be beautiful

and will be replenishing i give me another three months do you like my invention please jealous you until you open again
the demon does not possess me and does not wish to thus i received
in a letter from hell thank you thank you it was miserably ethereal
Spinning silver , silken sweaters with -
my catawba brethren , foresting oakwood estates
beside red fox companions , in witness of white-tail herds ,
compelling frigid streams of yellow perch and shellcracker , lemongrass sun hued byways engulfed in dewdrop prisms reign atop pattern encrusted red clay earth
In memory of morning , of the caterwauling Alabama easterlies ,
of vagabond waterbirds that sail frost laden , bucolic scenery
Copyright October 7 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Planet Earth . Creation . The perfect storm ? Miracle encapsulation of biochemicals or delivery from the Heavens above ? Millions of cells replicating upon organic matter no larger than the head of a pin ..The origin of life itself resting beneath our own skin ? Blood of mammal , hemolymph of insect , nerve cell of amphibian , skin cell of a pig ..The heart lung blood barrier of man , capillaries in the gills of fish .. Our gift of memory , albeit a curse at times , thought of mind and creativity .. Lust for blood , consumption of flesh , dominating spirit , insensitivity .  The hand that reaches for a flower , a fist driven into the face of an enemy ..Filled with love , life , intrigued with the mystery of creation one day , then hurtling over a cliff to your death the next ... Trillions of cells evolving , mutating , networking while the hallmark of life on Earth is busy de-foresting , polluting , selfishly consuming ! .......
Copyright October 5 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Wake Up
Wake Up

Sky kiss and lawn of mind
Greening beautifully
Can’t-miss
Sky kiss

Zumba laugh
begin…

Raining and fog falling
turtles pleasantly rolling
Don’t have time for calling

Looking sky
don’t know why?
Ohh It’s not too high, O dear!

Let’s open your astronaut dream
packed with oxygen drill

Moon wink
link your dream strings
Kites flying
and so the rising moon
O
Beloved come soon
Under the Shade of a tree
Let’s feel free
Let’s uncage your butterfly and a bee

tip-top
colors hop
tip-top
colors hop

Get up
Leave your lazy cushions
Do the tango
Don’t wait!
close all your negativity entry gate!
cheers!!

A round walk! Around the walk!
feel the rhythm and think what you have brought
Gain some spiritual meditational sky talk
Then some bang bang chocolate

Take some Fruit’s salad
jolly your mind and add your heart
A dazzling mug of coffee

Rise up and twinkle!
Rise up and twinkle!

start your day!
Don’t let it down dreamy feather
realize the real
concatenate the imagination
combo!
Mumbo Jumbo!

Let’s go
driving the infinite snow
feel the cold
relax with the music old!

Take a break!
Let’s go

Pots of golden *** and vacant space
time your mind
sometimes memories rewind
under the cup of diverging new winds

If reached in the forest unknowingly
wild your heart and don’t feel unrest
Wear a mask under the green shadow
Don’t fear if the lion is so near
like a moonwalk
slowly
reverse your gear of slow walk
without eye to eye contact

If lion attack
punches the nose hard
breathe!
and
never let the lionto eat you
Don’t go beyond the imagination,O dear!

Wild the forest
wild so you!
Wild the forest
wild so you!

Bright love
singing right in front of the mind tree, a pond
O melting glaciers
Hurry up!
seasons of a fluffy polar bear
Drinking beer…

closely searching me near!
So I deep sleep while drinking a lovely beer…

Just to fear the wild bear!

cheers!!! cheers!!!cheers!!!


Grasses of dreams want to sprout
Layer the other side of the coin!

Wake up!
Wake up!

Trees are laughing
Kissing and rejoicing
Oh Dear!
Everything is in the dream!
cheers!!!

Snow is wildly astonishing
Foresting smile!
Glittering star shining in the dreamy mile!


Layer’s of desert fall
I am in the dream
I can’t call…
cheers!!!

Wake Up!


Wake Up!

Wake Up!!


Wake Up !

Wake Up!

Wake Up!


Wake Up !!


Wake Up !!!

Amy  May 2019
Moose
Amy May 2019
It was like a scary dream
Childish fear brought to the surface,
Flush faced, wide eyed, the unfair advantage, still yet smoking and dripping in evidential residue.

The river singing it’s roaring song
Still the same.
Up above, the birds still perched,
Viewing the slaughter from above, with
A sort of grateful unexceptionalism.

How the world could continue
While this occurs, answered
only with boredom and indifference.

And when the flies began to gather,
The foresting neighbors began to collect, only then was left,
The fur still warm.

Horns the size of trees, yet
Gentle and innocent like a child’s swing.
Now sentenced to remain in the limbo, the
air, neither moving forwards or back,
then gone.

Only the body remains,
Unforeseen potential wasted with your intent.
Onoma Dec 2020
the cavalry of the centaur

composes him, halved lord

of the rush made complete.

a groundswell foresting,

blowing open a canopy.

redhaired variations to the maiden

meeting the charge of her

foliage head on.

the spine of her last change

of color.

parting her fingers on that

forest ground.

— The End —