goldendagger - Hello Poetry

before you even open your mouth, have you ever considered the weight of one's word? if one would like to speak of a flower, one should wash their mouth with tea, and make sure their speaking is as clean it can be

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Jan 18, 2021

Jan 18, 2021 at 4:00 PM UTC

Etiquette

before you even open your mouth, have you ever considered the weight of one's word? if one would like to speak of a flower, one should wash their mouth with tea, and make sure their speaking is as clean it can be

14

In the museum and looked at humans bathing in fresh streams and open fields ***** bottles on display and butterflies on display the evening turned to gold I was mesmerized by my own footsteps their constant motion the leaves, plants and bugs left an orchestra of singing sounds my feet enveloped by the mud, pulling me in to stay swimming in these deep waters I say “This is the most peaceful experience I’ve ever had” In the wetness and quietness, a heron flies by, a symbol of wisdom “Really?” swimming backwards where the fish jump out and spring with delight “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it”. the smile I will never forget speaking about having a house on the water and bathing in streams, just like the museums Eye contact Takes hold A coming of age Bittersweetness overtakes me. We spoke of how the pine trees there were so far away from home Yet, we both felt the same way. Getting lost in the darkness after a cool swim in the river, You put a flashlight on The overwhelming sunset had passed, and overcoming our confusion, We watched the bats with their tricks in the air, daintily gliding and searching for small insects. I remember my faint Breaths, climactic Walking and breathing through the twigs and leaves “it would be exciting to glide like that”. I watch the dance of four bats, celebrating our bodies as intricate lures for small bugs small vampires nip my skin, unknowing of the romantic, short symbiotic relationship the walk back to my vehicle is isolated and cold, wishing I was swimming in those cool waters once again

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Jul 26, 2019

Jul 26, 2019 at 4:00 AM UTC

river

In the museum and looked at humans bathing in fresh streams and open fields ***** bottles on display and butterflies on display the evening turned to gold I was mesmerized by my own footsteps their constant motion the leaves, plants and bugs left an orchestra of singing sounds my feet enveloped by the mud, pulling me in to stay swimming in these deep waters I say “This is the most peaceful experience I’ve ever had” In the wetness and quietness, a heron flies by, a symbol of wisdom “Really?” swimming backwards where the fish jump out and spring with delight “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it”. the smile I will never forget speaking about having a house on the water and bathing in streams, just like the museums Eye contact Takes hold A coming of age Bittersweetness overtakes me. We spoke of how the pine trees there were so far away from home Yet, we both felt the same way. Getting lost in the darkness after a cool swim in the river, You put a flashlight on The overwhelming sunset had passed, and overcoming our confusion, We watched the bats with their tricks in the air, daintily gliding and searching for small insects. I remember my faint Breaths, climactic Walking and breathing through the twigs and leaves “it would be exciting to glide like that”. I watch the dance of four bats, celebrating our bodies as intricate lures for small bugs small vampires nip my skin, unknowing of the romantic, short symbiotic relationship the walk back to my vehicle is isolated and cold, wishing I was swimming in those cool waters once again

82

yes I am aware that voice inside the skull speaks to me late at night please do tell I want to know who this is impulsive feels like ecstasy, too good to be true cycling everyday through the same simulation and some how somehow there are buffers the paranoia envelopes me like a warm blanket

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Jan 31, 2019

Jan 31, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC

plug

yes I am aware that voice inside the skull speaks to me late at night please do tell I want to know who this is impulsive feels like ecstasy, too good to be true cycling everyday through the same simulation and some how somehow there are buffers the paranoia envelopes me like a warm blanket

25

when floors are cold, the bed, goosebumps enter the oasis, water splashing on my face like warm holy water in the shower and inhaling steam, I think I understand moths when they drown in the flame

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Jan 29, 2019

Jan 29, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC

Ice

when floors are cold, the bed, goosebumps enter the oasis, water splashing on my face like warm holy water in the shower and inhaling steam, I think I understand moths when they drown in the flame

11

I breathe the blood You lick the copper Little angels dance in Their secretive ways Who’s behind the Curtain? Do you Enjoy it? Who’s behind The mask?

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Jan 29, 2019

Jan 29, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC

Condition

I breathe the blood You lick the copper Little angels dance in Their secretive ways Who’s behind the Curtain? Do you Enjoy it? Who’s behind The mask?

10

Breakfast at 9, sharp and it's vital time. That large fat man with the boyish face tells me to come on, and I do Pitter patter like the hammers of rain on the tin roof, but my feet are in rhythm. Jog will you, jog. Cold and blue, my skin shows the roots and highway of veins. I am sat down, and grabbed like a quick decision purchase. They twine it around my arm and tell me to make a fist. I'm numb, I say, I feel a fever. The fat oily man nods and smiles. Who's this lady, tapping on my forearm? Blue-blood, let me go. They're tapping into the oil wells, I think. 5 vials now, my pupils are blurred. I am spurting red into the tube, this is not the Gross Clinic. After it is ceased, a quick snap and tape on the gauze. I'm shoo'd out, go eat.

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Apr 3, 2016

Apr 3, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC

Fever

Breakfast at 9, sharp and it's vital time. That large fat man with the boyish face tells me to come on, and I do Pitter patter like the hammers of rain on the tin roof, but my feet are in rhythm. Jog will you, jog. Cold and blue, my skin shows the roots and highway of veins. I am sat down, and grabbed like a quick decision purchase. They twine it around my arm and tell me to make a fist. I'm numb, I say, I feel a fever. The fat oily man nods and smiles. Who's this lady, tapping on my forearm? Blue-blood, let me go. They're tapping into the oil wells, I think. 5 vials now, my pupils are blurred. I am spurting red into the tube, this is not the Gross Clinic. After it is ceased, a quick snap and tape on the gauze. I'm shoo'd out, go eat.

44

She said we were running for errands, and that it'd be good for me to get out of bed. I arrive at the building, so bold and formidable tint windows, venom. It's for your own good, she said. It's for the best. I'm taken to a blast of white rays The women peeled off my clothes, and told me to spread, hold up my hands and jump. Humiliation and nakedness is this how it has become? Feverish, and shiver I am swung a gown on, but not the lace one like home.

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Apr 3, 2016

Apr 3, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC

Ache

She said we were running for errands, and that it'd be good for me to get out of bed. I arrive at the building, so bold and formidable tint windows, venom. It's for your own good, she said. It's for the best. I'm taken to a blast of white rays The women peeled off my clothes, and told me to spread, hold up my hands and jump. Humiliation and nakedness is this how it has become? Feverish, and shiver I am swung a gown on, but not the lace one like home.

26

Soft and smooth, I am not married yet but the bed knows me well. Jazz hands, sucker punch, daintily like ballet -- I am in full bloom. Crescendo with my fingertips, petunia, rose. The bed knows me well. Warm, disgust, the ****** of the orchestra. Plush, a slight stir and a deep breath. I marry in the bowels of the night, ink, glint stars. Lovingly and pressing, I do my own.

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Apr 3, 2016

Apr 3, 2016 at 3:43 AM UTC

Flower Dance

Soft and smooth, I am not married yet but the bed knows me well. Jazz hands, sucker punch, daintily like ballet -- I am in full bloom. Crescendo with my fingertips, petunia, rose. The bed knows me well. Warm, disgust, the ****** of the orchestra. Plush, a slight stir and a deep breath. I marry in the bowels of the night, ink, glint stars. Lovingly and pressing, I do my own.

21

The feeling of love trudges through the thick flesh of my muscles like some Siberian prisoner through the snow. The sun hits my bed in a blanket of heat jagged from the blinds, I have steady breaths, I am an old dog. He will kiss me, and our mouths will mesh like the gears of detroit's factories in their prime.

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Apr 3, 2016

Apr 3, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC

Suicide Machine

The feeling of love trudges through the thick flesh of my muscles like some Siberian prisoner through the snow. The sun hits my bed in a blanket of heat jagged from the blinds, I have steady breaths, I am an old dog. He will kiss me, and our mouths will mesh like the gears of detroit's factories in their prime.

17

In June you'll be a year older, another flight of wisdom and deciphering. I'll be in my gown, powder room and all, putting lilacs into my pores. The fig tree outside will be in it's ripest bloom, and the juice will run down my lip just how you like it. ****** bride, the angels cry, thunderstorms outside are their tantrums. Find me in the reading chair fixated on you, the sun seeping onto the floor like spilled honey. Yes honey, I do, I do. I am in love, O cuckoo. I waded through the cesspool and found the void, illumination, reaping light from this boy. My voice is hot and sweaty, horse race runner, jockey stride. Kiss me on that California beach --- high tide.

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Apr 2, 2016

Apr 2, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC

Modesty

In June you'll be a year older, another flight of wisdom and deciphering. I'll be in my gown, powder room and all, putting lilacs into my pores. The fig tree outside will be in it's ripest bloom, and the juice will run down my lip just how you like it. ****** bride, the angels cry, thunderstorms outside are their tantrums. Find me in the reading chair fixated on you, the sun seeping onto the floor like spilled honey. Yes honey, I do, I do. I am in love, O cuckoo. I waded through the cesspool and found the void, illumination, reaping light from this boy. My voice is hot and sweaty, horse race runner, jockey stride. Kiss me on that California beach --- high tide.

31