AKA_Kari - Hello Poetry

The air, stiff as a starched collar Falls dead on breath, heaving tides Pushing driftwood ashore Land, the sigh of sirens ringing Raising alarm for the fire, the hose Too weak to engulf the flames The whole thing burns down.

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Dec 26, 2020

Dec 26, 2020 at 10:12 PM UTC

Crisis

The air, stiff as a starched collar Falls dead on breath, heaving tides Pushing driftwood ashore Land, the sigh of sirens ringing Raising alarm for the fire, the hose Too weak to engulf the flames The whole thing burns down.

7

All my boys, their eyes, upon me Like peeping Gods from the heights of my Mind. Their eyes--those lights-- Reflecting different spectrums of color Hazel-speckled, deep black-brown Gazing down upon me, from those bastions of Memory, wandering somewhere above-- Dark shadows, eluding presence but always present Always lingering behind the step of my feet Trailing slowly, slowly. Carried by the slack of my clicking heels. Dragged into bed with me at night, with new boys My new boys, their eyes, those lights The spectrum of colors--

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Oct 20, 2016

Oct 20, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC

All My Boys

All my boys, their eyes, upon me Like peeping Gods from the heights of my Mind. Their eyes--those lights-- Reflecting different spectrums of color Hazel-speckled, deep black-brown Gazing down upon me, from those bastions of Memory, wandering somewhere above-- Dark shadows, eluding presence but always present Always lingering behind the step of my feet Trailing slowly, slowly. Carried by the slack of my clicking heels. Dragged into bed with me at night, with new boys My new boys, their eyes, those lights The spectrum of colors--

14

Summers at grandma's used to be fun, Before we realized our grandparents would eventually die and transcend to planes invisible to our eyes. And we would sneak into the house, soggy bathing suits and all Dripping pools on the floor while we snuck slices of American cheese from the fridge, and butter crackers. And, in fear, thrill, and delight, we would wolf down our sacred snacks In the dim kitchen light, before Mama could see or grandma would get home from work, And dart, crashing into the swimming pool and enduring stomach-aches to keep Our secret delight silent. The delights I endure now are different. More painful, even. The shrieks of laughter when you would lick my face. The moans when we slept together and enjoyed those more-adult sorts of pleasures. Your fingers, when they gracefully plucked a tune from the banjo, and the notes stabbed me in the heart, and I soared with love and joy and love-- A thrill--like those simple times, sneaking snacks at grandma's from the kitchen on summer days, when we were swimmin'.

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Aug 27, 2016

Aug 27, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC

Old Summer Days

Summers at grandma's used to be fun, Before we realized our grandparents would eventually die and transcend to planes invisible to our eyes. And we would sneak into the house, soggy bathing suits and all Dripping pools on the floor while we snuck slices of American cheese from the fridge, and butter crackers. And, in fear, thrill, and delight, we would wolf down our sacred snacks In the dim kitchen light, before Mama could see or grandma would get home from work, And dart, crashing into the swimming pool and enduring stomach-aches to keep Our secret delight silent. The delights I endure now are different. More painful, even. The shrieks of laughter when you would lick my face. The moans when we slept together and enjoyed those more-adult sorts of pleasures. Your fingers, when they gracefully plucked a tune from the banjo, and the notes stabbed me in the heart, and I soared with love and joy and love-- A thrill--like those simple times, sneaking snacks at grandma's from the kitchen on summer days, when we were swimmin'.

18

Silence, screaming lies The lion in the sun Bathing in the bubbling s p r i n g s The grass towards the sky kissing Lips, dead or try Harder, faster, cry Now, again , on high-- The pastor, to the choir Sing PRAISE Hallelujah... Lord! Oh my and my fingers Round' your ears, caressing skin Me alive, as long as I'm here By your side.

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Sep 30, 2015

Sep 30, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC

Love; Oh,my.

Silence, screaming lies The lion in the sun Bathing in the bubbling s p r i n g s The grass towards the sky kissing Lips, dead or try Harder, faster, cry Now, again , on high-- The pastor, to the choir Sing PRAISE Hallelujah... Lord! Oh my and my fingers Round' your ears, caressing skin Me alive, as long as I'm here By your side.

13

This cliff is not so jagged as the rocks below, The heavy tide swallows and spits them Over, and over, consuming But not keeping. The embrace of these waters could not be any colder In this plunge to new depths, alone and reborn. Could this mystery be my new muse? Could this siren sing me home? Home-- The darkness and the slumber, to The other shore; surely the sun shines kindly, there.

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Sep 29, 2015

Sep 29, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC

Over the Edge

This cliff is not so jagged as the rocks below, The heavy tide swallows and spits them Over, and over, consuming But not keeping. The embrace of these waters could not be any colder In this plunge to new depths, alone and reborn. Could this mystery be my new muse? Could this siren sing me home? Home-- The darkness and the slumber, to The other shore; surely the sun shines kindly, there.

11

My sweet boy: Kind like soft candies that melt in the Warmth of your palm, Velvet to the touch and delightful to the Tongue. I was wrong-- That your sweet would quell my sour and Recoil the pucker that these poison kisses Slathered on your lips.

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Mar 17, 2015

Mar 17, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC

Sweet and Sour

My sweet boy: Kind like soft candies that melt in the Warmth of your palm, Velvet to the touch and delightful to the Tongue. I was wrong-- That your sweet would quell my sour and Recoil the pucker that these poison kisses Slathered on your lips.

9

Punctuation marks the hesitancy in this conversation and I can't help but dwell on words resting unspoken between commas, ellipses and apostrophes;the Spaces between letters where sounds sleep, vibrations strike empty chords and fall short of expression.

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Feb 24, 2015

Feb 24, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC

Words Unspoken Speaking

Punctuation marks the hesitancy in this conversation and I can't help but dwell on words resting unspoken between commas, ellipses and apostrophes;the Spaces between letters where sounds sleep, vibrations strike empty chords and fall short of expression.

5

I burnt the tip of my cigarette into my Tumbler to **** two habits with one stone. Though the **** coughed its last sigh and polluted a decently-priced Rye, I don't trust that the addiction died. Tipped my finger to the 'tender to fill a new glass, Struck the flint to the tinder, a tobacco mask. They poison slow, but the effects are fast. You, like these habits, are in the past, Waiting for me at the bottom of a flask, swearing always "It'll be the last."

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Feb 22, 2015

Feb 22, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC

Bad Habits

I burnt the tip of my cigarette into my Tumbler to **** two habits with one stone. Though the **** coughed its last sigh and polluted a decently-priced Rye, I don't trust that the addiction died. Tipped my finger to the 'tender to fill a new glass, Struck the flint to the tinder, a tobacco mask. They poison slow, but the effects are fast. You, like these habits, are in the past, Waiting for me at the bottom of a flask, swearing always "It'll be the last."

10

I'll take you as you are, whether the Tides have turned towards warm, Tropic waters or ****** this ship upon Jutting rocks too close to shore. As you are, coming or going-- Opening the door or slamming it so It breaks off the hinge and falls in splinters to the floor, Piercing fragile fingers that try to mold The fragments to the former whole. As you are--when the dark makes you quiet and Your eyes burn like fire or the Love wells up inside you, Breaching dams, Gushing violently to swallow all in beautiful fury.

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Feb 9, 2015

Feb 9, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC

As You Are

I'll take you as you are, whether the Tides have turned towards warm, Tropic waters or ****** this ship upon Jutting rocks too close to shore. As you are, coming or going-- Opening the door or slamming it so It breaks off the hinge and falls in splinters to the floor, Piercing fragile fingers that try to mold The fragments to the former whole. As you are--when the dark makes you quiet and Your eyes burn like fire or the Love wells up inside you, Breaching dams, Gushing violently to swallow all in beautiful fury.

14

Speak no more Utter no more sentences Vague, and context devoid through Glass electric fixtures. Stopped communication via Frozen gears and halted processes Dead progress, mutated metals. Sing no more, no more notes raised Upward bound towards fleeting skies Reigning over all we were. Love no more, see no more Begone like the invisible microwaves that First created and ultimately possess you; That zapped you full of life and color and now defy you.

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Feb 1, 2015

Feb 1, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC

No More: A Hex

Speak no more Utter no more sentences Vague, and context devoid through Glass electric fixtures. Stopped communication via Frozen gears and halted processes Dead progress, mutated metals. Sing no more, no more notes raised Upward bound towards fleeting skies Reigning over all we were. Love no more, see no more Begone like the invisible microwaves that First created and ultimately possess you; That zapped you full of life and color and now defy you.

14