Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Aug 2020 Aidan M
Rachel Jordan
The Fire Cycle
BY ZACHARY SCHOMBURG
There are trees and they are on fire. There are hummingbirds and they are on fire. There are graves and they are on fire and the things coming out of the graves are on fire. The house you grew up in is on fire. There is a gigantic trebuchet on fire on the edge of a crater and the crater is on fire. There is a complex system of tunnels deep underneath the surface with only one entrance and one exit and the entire system is filled with fire. There is a wooden cage we’re trapped in, too large to see, and it is on fire. There are jaguars on fire. Wolves. Spiders. Wolf-spiders on fire. If there were people. If our fathers were alive. If we had a daughter. Fire to the edges. Fire in the river beds. Fire between the mattresses of the bed you were born in. Fire in your mother’s belly. There is a little boy wearing a fire shirt holding a baby lamb. There is a little girl in a fire skirt asking if she can ride the baby lamb like a horse. There is you on top of me with thighs of fire while a hot red fog hovers in your hair. There is me on top of you wearing a fire shirt and then pulling the fire shirt over my head and tossing it like a fireball through the fog at a new kind of dinosaur. There are meteorites disintegrating in the atmosphere just a few thousand feet above us and tiny fireballs are falling down around us, pooling around us, forming a kind of fire lake which then forms a kind of fire cloud. There is this feeling I get when I am with you. There is our future house burning like a star on the hill. There is our dark flickering shadow. There is my hand on fire in your hand on fire, my body on fire above your body on fire, our tongues made of ash. We are rocks on a distant and uninhabitable planet. We have our whole life ahead of us.
 Aug 2020 Aidan M
JT
and we
won't just
  survive
    but we'll
      thrive till
        we're five
           and make
              peace with
                 our hearts
                     till we're
                         feeling
                              alive
                                   and my
                                        puppy-
                                               eyed
                                                     lover
                                                            will talk
                                                                   to the
                                                                          sky and
                                                                               we'll drift
                                                                                      through the
                                                                                              night till
                                                                                                      we're free
 Jul 2020 Aidan M
Gwen
Lotus Eaters
 Jul 2020 Aidan M
Gwen
city full of lotus eaters
sleeping in peaceful apathy;
a life with no reality

dancing in the wind
with a slowly fading mind
drowning in the bliss

sunlight beating down
creating dark shadows on the ground
they move all around

city full of silence
whispers unheard in the distance
surviving by ignorance

they eat their lotus flowers
drifting hour by hour
nothing but a blank stare
is anything even there
Is this okay???????
 Jul 2020 Aidan M
RedD
Embers
 Jul 2020 Aidan M
RedD
My soul needs to burn
Needs heat
To keep it alive
Otherwise it drifts on the wind
And dissipates
Into nothing
1.1.19
1st thoughts of the year
 Jul 2020 Aidan M
RedD
For

me

A person
who feels the same
feels the same
intense fire
in their soul as I do?
A person that needs the fire
as much as me?

You

Always you

You
Keep the fire distant
Till it almost dies out
But glows
in the dark

Gently

Together

we force life from our lips
Breaths entwined
Rise the fire from the earth
As we stand
Together

But

alone
 Jul 2020 Aidan M
RedD
Untitled
 Jul 2020 Aidan M
RedD
Silence
again

An energy
missing

I have to
strike

This one life
running
Blackout poem #4 25.11.18
 Jul 2020 Aidan M
T. S. Eliot
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

— The End —