Arlene Corwin
3 days ago

Alice Is In Wonderland

Alice got sick.

A dulling fur – a cancer here and there.

Don’t know how, don’t know why,

(We never know how, why we’ll die).

Bad and sad for doggies

And for those who hold them dear.

The vet urged she be put to sleep -

It had gone far.

It went in seconds. Not a peep

From Alice, just one beat, a bleep

And she was gone;

A little soul taken in hand

By doggy heaven land, a wondrous land.

Alice is in Wonderland.

Alice Is In Wonderland 3.24.2017

Birth, Death & In Between II; Love Relationships II;

Arlene Corwin

Ode to a dead doggy - a dear doggy.
#dead   #a   #to   #dear   #-   #ode   #doggy  
Tieran Nickel
Tieran Nickel
6 days ago

It must have taken you a terribly long time
To plot your mischievous plan that day.
You waited for the perfect moment to commit the crime.
And I daresay,
Your well-executed scheme, taking place in trigonometry
Brought me pain
And sorrow.
Your need for my pencil resembles idolatry.
I may never love the same
Or let another person "borrow"

7 days ago

Galaxies and wonderment;
Suns brighter than suns;
A collection of constellations
Woven between my fingers.

I cry sunsets and
Hold sunrises on my shoulders;
Like Sisyphus rolls boulders.
This is my eternity.

I see demons in blue light;
Dancing around the firelight.
I see angels with charred wings;
Heads adorned with golden rings.

I have galaxies inside of me;
Worlds they will never know;
With grass that caresses the feet,
And air that smells sweet.

Then there are the withered parts
Of me that I hope they will never see;
With monsters that prowl the dark,
Creations that I pray I will never be.

Stars twinkle above my head.
I look at them and know their dread,
For I am in the space of limbo;
A realm where the winds always blow.

I can feel claws on my skin,
Tearing to rip my head open.
Inside is found stories untold;
Languages only the angels know.

Here I walk among the trees;
Here I walk among fantasies;
Worlds of my own creation.
Here you know my imagination.

an ode
#imagination   #to   #ode  

Flaring silver in the dark blue sky
Sparks of light ablaze
Locked castle doors to imply
The secret of our hypnotic gaze

I climb the big, firm willow
And loudly whisper your lovely name
You slowly open your glass window
The glory to proclaim

Oh flying ravens of ebony night
Hiding our secret ways
A nightly tryst gone oh so right
Counting the dreamy days

Her hair flipped down
My expression, surprised
Beautiful brown
Needn’t be disguised

For her light complexion
Is brighter than the flaring silver
For her complete reflection
Is clearer than the pains within her

No signs of lust to be found
No signs of later on temptations
Only our love, deeply profound
Conversations combined with revelations

Her harp played harmonies sweet
So I knew you were neurotic
By the sound of your drum beat
And I, allured by your aroma scent, exotic

I come here now to serenade
And kiss your marvelous soul
For you I’d catch a grenade
And in your heart enroll

Midnights I spend in your garden of peace
Where peace reigns all over the air
Sculptures of gods, from ancient Greece
But you, My Goddess, are beyond compare

A lullaby I sing to you
While you sit on the wooden bench
And you wear your gorgeous dress, blue
Then grab my arms and clench

I long to see the moonlit in your hair
And drown in the depths of your attachment
I love telling you from time to time, how much I care
You’ve got me bound to your enchantment

The spring windy night breeze
We stand together watching the sailors sail
We listen to the rumbling of the trees
And stare as the land goes pale

The flower has begun to bud
The grass is greener than ever
They say water is thicker than blood
But our water ties will last forever

Passion you offered in time and again
And I gladly returned the favor
And not long ago, don’t remember when
I got to intimately taste your heart and savor

Oh long spring night, the time has come
For you to leave and accept the new season
I thank you for all that I’ve become
I thank because you gave me a reason

And yes my love, you are the reason to my life
The reason I hold on to precious earth
The moments we spend are always rife
The moments we spend are always worth

Hug me with your loving arms
Touch me with your lovely hands
I’ll protect you from all harms
And I’ll buy you all the lands

And here right now I say to you
That my love for you is ultimately authentic
The color of spring, we’ve seen its hue
In our insomniac nights, majestic

With your fabulous stare
I faint out of sight
With your divine hair
You caress me and cast out blight

And with my touch
Your lips I seal
And with my love
Your heart I steal

spring i love
#love   #romance   #spring   #ode  

an ode to what I am not
or skinny
or welcoming
an ode to what you beg of me
all of these things I cannot be,
I will not be not ever
forever is a long time
to spend bending
your image of me
into something
that fits in your wallet
an ode to what I am not
gentle, rose colored china
sunday mornings with herbal tea
your hope or step in your 12 to get up
a beam of light at the edge of blackness
an ode to what I do not possess
healing powers like some 2,000 year old man
you pray to every day and beg I do the same
patience for another human who whats to change
who and what I am not
so I can play the part
I did not even audition for
an ode to what I am taking
back, my life
all of me, front and center
of the floor

#love   #happy   #me   #personal   #ode   #fuckyou   #freeverse   #mine   #jmk   #ckeleos  

When a woman footy player explodes,
Read about it in this little ode,
She is so 'over' the antediluvian,
She knows what to do, some man,
Cleats to his groin,
End of his sirloins,
Off to the pub she went,
His supper was a non event,
A loud, proud moll,
No antediluvian's little doll,
A woman footballer explodes...
Thus concludes this little ode......

Feedback welcome.
#this   #ode   #little  

My truth is that I teeter atop a constant precipice of blazing boldness and utter fear.

I tip toe a fine line of longing to be unapologetically passionate, raw and subversive - and comfortingly cordial, gentle and "nice."

My favorite colors are witchcraft black and angel pink.

I unabashedly groove to both bass bottomed gangster rap and dreamy, trippy synth pop - equally.

I rise each day to blaze a trail of fiery transformation - holding my flag high in the sky for all to see and follow - and end each day wanting to hide in my rabbit hole reading about herbal remedies and making tinctures and potions that the world.

My favorite flower is the optimistic tulip, but I find strength in the weeping willow.

I sing fierce songs of freedom, injustice and equality out loud, while humming soft songs of sweetness and peace and love to myself.

I'm both Dorothy and the Great and Powerful Oz.

I long to scream wisdom from the rooftops, as long as I don't hurt anyone's feelings.

I relate to the women of both Girls and Golden Girls.

I want socialism but I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do.

I get a thrill by telling arrogant people off with a witty sarcastic remark, and then feel heavy remorse because I wish I hadn't created such a divide.

I am a warrior for women’s rights, but I’ve also been a mean girl and a recovering bulimic.

I want someone to love me completely while I love them utterly, but I don’t want to be engulfed by the heady perfume and fluorescent distraction of romance.

I admire both Charles Bukowski and Simone de Beauvoir as equals.

I don’t want to care what the hell you think of me, but I want you to love and worship me just the same.

I roll my eyes when older men date much younger women, but find myself attracted to much younger dudes than myself.

I bow to the bodies of “real women” while secretly dreaming of what it must be like to be a supermodel.

I want to be adored as much as I want to be respected.

I worship the Goddess on my knees but also find Jesus to be a true prophet of love, and kind of a babe.

I’m as silly as I am intense, and I’m as insane as I am sane.

My ultimate truth is that I'm a lover and a fighter,
a saint and a whore,
an angel and a demon,
a divine spirit and a hot mess.

I envelop each contradiction passionately, balancing them equally like a tightrope walker in the wind. Frustrated and wondering how the hell I got here, but also awestruck and loving the view.

You see, I have come to learn that the sign of a true rebel is the one who wears her heart on her sleeve - while giving zero fucks, sowing compassion, taking no shit, mending fences and slaying dragons.

Xan Abyss
Xan Abyss
Feb 20

Ride the Serpent, baby
Into the Great Sea
Ride the Devil, Angel
Into the Deep Sleep
I came from outside
With a universal mind
And you and I can fly, my darling
We need only to die

Ride the Serpent, baby
Into the Great Sea
Ride the Devil, Angel
Into the Deep Sleep
My friends on the inside
Pour us fountains of red wine
"Alive!" She cried, and I was mystified
By the cosmos in her eyes

Persian Night, babe - fly with me
See the light, babe? Cry with me
I wanna taste your fearful tears
Show me your eyes and open wide
When the ancient witch appears
We can howl like beasts of the wild

Come back, LA Woman
I'm sick of doin' time
Is this the end?
Can someone find me reason for a rhyme?

"We are but clowns in a cosmic circus, degrading ourselves for a silent, uncaring audience. Their Collective gaze dances across our fragile flesh like so many knives on fire. We bleed. We burn. Our healing begets new ailments. We continue to suffer. We continue to survive. We never stop smiling. The circus is all we have. To lose the horror is to lose the Majesty as well. We must not quit. The lights have not gone down, and we hope they never will. We cannot afford to lose our audience. The Show Must Go On."

Persian Night, little angel!
Fly with me!
See the light, little angel?
Die with me!
I want you here, obscene
For all eternity
For I long to hear the scream of the butterfly!

So turn off the light!
Turn off the light!
Turn off the light and see!
Turn off the lights!
Turn off the lights!
Turn off the lights for me!

...Ride the Serpent, baby
Into the Great Sea
Ride the Devil, Angel
Into the Deep Sleep
Turn off the light and climb inside my universal mind
And finally we can be free

An homage to Jim Morrison.
#doors   #lyrics   #morrison   #ode   #rock   #psychedelic   #jim   #1960s   #homage  

Somethin' about an empty room, depending on how the light asks to be let in on its edges.
An empty room don’t expect you to do nothin' whatever. And its floor responds in this kinda lilting relief when you tap-dance barefoot upon it.
If you sit in all its corners, with your eyeballs (try it!) you can trace the refractions and suggestions on the wall, 'specially the places where paint and odd plaster stick up like little men and cast shadows all their own.
You can spend hours doing this.
You, the impressionable film upon which the world's projected herself—you turn the world upside down and make sense of the image in this empty box.
Make art here.
Shout here! Run and kick and punch through the walls and
Love them as you do so, kid.
Something about emptiness itself, gets a lot of flack, you think,
cast as grave.
Emptiness: potential,
Emptiness: casting being in sharp distinction.
Emptiness: sensual, like breath before the
action of the human magnetic.
You: the one alive in this your empty room and therefore acutely aware of
what you chose to project in such vibrant relief.
Today, it is newspapers and magazine clippings and a notebook and a blue pen and a book by Susan Sontag.
Today you lie on the woody floor, supine, eyes wide
and become part of it
your lungs breathe life into this ancient emptiness. And the air between its walls vibrates, and sighs, nascent, ‘thank you.’

the drink for the soul is tea; many a questions have been pondered over a cup of tea, many a bitter cold nights in winter (where breath becomes malleable with fingers), many an early morning get ups (against its bitter rival of coffee), a cup of tea is the kind of drink to make unbe-leaf-able jokes whilst still remaining sophisticated yet affordable and casual.
                            f o r when you want to be a grown-up
                       f o r when you first get a hangover
                           f o r when you ask a girl out to a cafe
                   f o r when you meet the parents.
                     f o r when you are finally married
                                           f o r when you are on your honeymoon (in p a r i s)
                        f o r when you paint the front room
                f o r when you truly fall in love
                      f o r when you cannot pay the bills
                 f o r when you start to turn blue
                                          f o r when your loved one rocks one the rocking chair one final time
                           f o r when the grandkids come to play
                              f o r when you smile at old photographs
                    f o r when you let old records play
                                    f o r when your shaking tries to control you
                            f o r when you want to be young-down
                                  f o r when you're surrounded by strangers
whom are closer than you think.

the drink for the soul is tea:

d.d. #42
or ode to tea
#love   #life   #death   #grunge   #hipster   #tea   #ode  
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