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dani-cunningham
I am no longer A ****** being. I get more from a right touch Then the aforementioned ****** I have died to the idea- that you can take me somewhere I haven’t already been without wanting me in a fresher way then to lay on and then next to me The drop of your eyes As they dart away from my own I want that I want the tight grip of your hand Around my ankle The insistence of your words on mine Panting, eager, delicate conversations that converge into familiarity I am no longer A ****** being But I am drawn to sheets As an entity- As a home for intimacy But it is most intimate When they are still cold Under my goose bumps I resolve myself To the longing For something more then just a body And a body Tangling I want to eat your temperament For breakfast, lunch, and diner And then rest on the bare chest of someone Who will still want me there when I wake up.
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC
Something more
Time separates us in the most tragic of ways My 21st century mouth is wet for you My tongue would rain on your rose petals And nourish your palms, eyes closed, panting, words. I grow from your golden ashes a woman The roses have wilted and left only death cherries I eat them one by one- I snack on the forbidden fruits And stain my lips with the darker juices My words are weakening with my world I come to you- palms flat on the dirt Pining for your pinning language And I will eat them too, swallow them and wait Until further instruction.
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
Dear Mr. Neruda
I’ve gotten used to being set Set aside Set straight Setting like the sun on the idea of happiness Dying to so many dreams I don’t have enough phalanges to count them on People hurt me because they Think they know me (You don’t know me, not even a little) I had forgotten how it feels when you hold me I had lost the lust to know you Blade sharp visions Cutting away at my ability To hold up my life card I want to punch out and leave. Pleasure and pain concurrent *** and little deaths roll together I have never spelled it out before Your *** your *** your species, your intimacy It murders my self-confidence It leaves me barer than birth And hungry for something That isn’t real (And you still don’t know me) tears are my life’s work blood is my excuse for living I leave it in the veins Because anything else would be Too messy. In my fantasies We watch football on the couch Drink beers with fancy labels And I fall asleep on your shoulder. I could make a whole life In the small of your back In the space behind your ear I would color in your lines And connect your dots. We would be childhood happy. (You don’t want to know me)
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
Its so dark and lonely in my skull
I am the very empty shell of human ingenuity Lost my luster and imagination I can only put together what already exists And call it new. Now introducing the I-microwave Featuring wifi And a camera for those moments wasted Waiting for hyper-sugared molecules to heat. Blessed with uselessness I bunker down in your nearest department store And gain much needed dust. I am zeros and ones in the system 1 kn0w N07h1n9 ***** to the wall I shrivel and die alone. I am the ingenuity of the human shell Lost in my own insecurities, my imagination runs wild with flaws I can invent everything and anything When I’m not focusing on myself. Now introducing my spleen, Featuring My right ventricles, And my wiggling fugus-blackened toe nails, All acting in accordance with my most important ***** Blessed with uselessness I bunker down in my loveless cubicle And crave much needed attention. I am nobody and everybody in the system I know nothing ***** to the wall I shrivel and die alone. We are not so different you and I. I invented you to keep me going You depend on me to do the same.
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
Metaphor-Metaphor: Simile
The trees all bow to you there The sun knows that it is welcome And it graciously gives me smiles I wear them like overalls My feet meet clay I can tell I was born here That this is the clay This is the clay that bore me And I want to scream, “WAIT” Because you all are missing this This is the meaning Or at least the place where meaning is found In this moment The ground feels cool and ripe with ideas With art With love (With youth and pain) With feelings I’d know this place anywhere Like a caged bird knows it has a nest Out there somewhere And I want to whisper (wait) Because to yell at this place Would crumble it and me to the ground This is were my soul lives Because the trees all bow to you there And the sun knows it is always welcome
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
Carrie me through Lynks of Joy (the Carolyn poem)
there are moments when I am, from myself, briefly removed- enough to realize how great I really am, - now is one of those times (so hold on to your skull) all the energy in my sneeze as it pushes its way through my body at binding speeds all the energy that falls forward pausing my personal time and space (a feat for me, at least) and forcing my eyes to close THAT is a TINY THING MY BODY DOES and I don’t even want it to happen so just wait for it because when I can muster all the energy of a tiny sneeze to feel something for you to take idea for a tiny vacation of the mind some place quiet, warm and dry but not at all reaching the evil extremes of any such foolishness and write them into a poem O man, are you in trouble then.
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
To Gallop in Ruin
Gaia, you roam with me And all I can give back is a carbon cocktail 2 parts oxygen, 1 part carbon you fence me in safety when no one can here I become your apprentice __________________________________________    Signature Here Bring me up in the ways of the every deity before me I want to blueberry your life Add sweet perfection a ton peau parfait Blemish your face with kisses, Rogue you to puddles Drink you in, have you for all meals always I want to bless you And deputize the dirt under your fingernails Commit you to my earth tones Paint you in abstraction Be with you- alone in me Here it is, my blanket of self, Given unto the lunar entities Wash out my stains Hang me to dry in the sun Let me get new life from the air Out of all this Drag from my sole The one with the toes Drag out my light Use it to find yourself And be constant to you
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
Affaires Maternelles
i am not an inbetweener not a spaceholder not a coma in your sentence I will not hold the back of your bike Chasing you down the street Afraid you will wipe out Scraping your knees on life I deserve to be an abstract metaphor Floating under a tree Sun setting on my glistening shoulders You should have to think before you speak To me Of me For me I will not be a flashlight Or a traffic light will not be your morse code I am cursive- calligraphy-poetry on the leaves Not messages on the inside of the bathroom stall (of Chauncey’s, Stubbies or The Top) Written for everyone Never taken to heart I will not harden my soul to put up with you I will remain squishy forever Powerfully squishy, silky liquidly wonderful Riddles will drip from my tongue like ink If you don’t understand it I am not meant for you Drowned and dripping White wine princess My dresses will flow out of your life With a quickness And you will be stuck Dreaming about the taste and texture of my skin
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:33 PM UTC
Homme enfant
I swallow the silence coming out of a nightmare rising from the depths reaching your fingers from the darkwater pulled to safety introduction to air. I am a dark crystal in sunlight i don't shine when i should only for the grotesque figures on their gentle moonlit float. No beauty no solace leaving only space to gasp in the badness bleed it out new crisp, farm fresh, warm daisies, jello from the mold, dresses that twirl in the wind - goodness without the victims knowing passing all from grip to grin I eat the darkness i drink the cold i birth the light and let it wander into the mason jars of small smilers giant eyes on little faces pinkies up to the sky teacups full of imagination leave you sitting on the porch years later trying to relive it all- And then for you I swallow the silence.
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:33 PM UTC
When I am Strong
i want to scribble all my secrets on the inside of your giant palms let you squeeze them out of exsistence lay my sweating worried forehead near you heart hyponitize myself to the beat fasten myself around you like strings to a guitar and be rhythm and be harmony and be noise upon noise upon noise layered to your liking and all at once quiet with my nose to your nose so close i can't remember what color your eyes are so close i don't feel anything but the deep blue hole only a soul on a soul i dream of just being the light the speckles that escape between the shades and dance on the floor as the wind rustles the blinds i want to be wrestled into harmony pushed into fantasy kidnapped by bliss and if it can't come for me i want to scribble all my secrets on the inside of your giant palms -there they might be safe from me
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:32 PM UTC
When i am weak