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Loneliness lamented,
never exempt from
tremendous emptiness,
relentless against
hellbent descent
of my own invention;
entrenched in
mental torment
taking up every tenement residence,
detention condemns.

But
mid November
summer still incenses,
in sun scented
memories
tempted by your
gentlest remnants
still renders me
senseless.

Daydreamt,
ephemeral,
almost replenishes and mends
until
heart hemorrhaging
becomes a
drenching tempest,
like a fist clenching
tension
holding onto your
absence
and some semblance of
what you meant
and yet
goodbye
you went
again.
Maybe one day I won't feel so **** heartbroken...
Seeds scattered
gather the courage
to germinate, emerge
as fertile, verdant trees
of evergreen and birch,
breeze's tease and flirt
enough to render
Earth fractured–
shattered.

Underneath the dirt
remorse's corpse interred,
lurking thoughts linger,
yet something within me
still stirs and burns;
searching the surface
for touch, tender.

Heart murmurs
but not as
a murmuration of starlings depart,
more like crows murdered;
buzzards, vultures circling birds
conjured–
the curse unburied torture,
no dying word in final dirge
and yet it yearns
for yesterday's return.

Memories mind blurs,
my senses
fervently usurped
but time can never
be reversed,
this cistern's nature
gushing to a turbulent river–
water's surging,
turgid current, pure;
about to die of thirst,
this dam soon fills to burst,
my love i spill and purge
as i remember her.

I was a version
of an imperfect person,
a scourge
of that I stand assured,
but this pain is
terminal,
permanent,
the only cure
her laugher
or feeling
fragile fingers,
shelter–
you certainly weren't the first
heartbreak I've had
but **** it hurts the worst.
Not sure if I'll even keep this one, not sure how cohesive it is since the imagery (and structure) jumps around a bit (and due to the length) but here it is for now anyway 🤷‍♂️ and just a sidenote– murmuration refers to the way a flock of starlings flies around, look up pictures/videos if youve never seen it, it's really something. Also partly inspired by this song: https://youtu.be/8iQJz-AGjOg?si=RAVW6Oms51lrZT3a
Orange
dancing lady slippers
perform uncoordinated
reblooming of dormant orchids;
warm and cordial in
informal candor
but agoraphobic
from misfortune;
mourning and remorseful
over flowers wilting, mortal.

Daybreak aurora
portent of
sunlight to come,
but stuck northward,
scorching corneas
in torrid dysphoria.

Organism born
horticulturally
disproportioned
and poorly formed,
origin in morbid horror;
cerebral cortex
its own torture,
the mortician
orphaning the organs
from the corpus;
stored in morgue,
torched in crematorium,
vivisected immemorial.

Stems and tendrils incorrigible,
disorganized into
deplorable ****
of tangled discord
clumsily running its course,
corsage and bouquet
aborted in accord.

Important shortage
warrants foraging
for resources
hoarded by some
abhorrent lord;
crowning court this
monarch's consort,
sordid and immoral,
keeping score like some
sick and sadistic sport;
reinforcing order of what's normal,
stronghold cordoned to conform.

Pollinating
swarm of hornets,
buzzing orchestra
of wings in chorus
quarreling with silence,
their scorpion stings absorbed;
stabbed, pierced, and gored.

Like a tortoise
slowly inching forward, torpid,
morass forbids;
roots exploring floorboards,
divorcing into a gorge,
fingers blindly implore
contours of the walls
searching for the door.

But drawn and quartered,
blossoms' florid
and ornate frame contorted,
warping its own portrait;
assorted torment transforming
efflorrescent, metamorphic.

Dwarfing, enormous,
and soaring towards orbit,
forty story high
arboreal forest
flourishing before us;
gorgeous morning glory,
thorny laurel adorning.

Forthwith,
storming windows' glass,
bastille, and castle supports;
warring against fortress
though swordless,
never resorting to forfeit until
entire territory terraformed
into floral orchard-
fragrant and vibrant aura
rewarding victoriously.
Wrote this one a few years ago and wasnt sure if i liked it, didnt quite sit right with me. So i rearranged a couple stanzas to transition between thoughts a little better and try to improve readability (though I'm still not so sure about it lol)... but I've always loved the ending 🤷‍♂️

So while I was writing this one i learned a few things about orchids (and a couple other things) which I tried to work into the poem (or use a bit of poetic license lol), so I'll put them here for context:
–Orchids only bloom once a year then go dormant, but can be rebloomed if taken care of properly.
–Dancing Lady and Lady Slipper are two types of orchids, but there are a ton of different types, and people cross pollinate all the time (so using a bit of poetic license here lol), both of these also have an orange variety. Most orchids prefer indirect light.
–Aurora is also a synonym for dawn.
–Hornets *do* pollinate flowers as well (just not as effectively as bees because they arent fuzzy)... calling a bit of poetic license on that one as well lol.
[City Bridges (5th draft)]

Indigenous citizen
struggling to stay civilized
amidst
monolithic visages,
stone-faced and stoic witnesses;
overhead,
gargoyles grin—
hideous grimaces
guarding ever vigilant.

Inhospitable city grid
dimly lit,
rain's residual liquid
slicks
gritty asphalt
glistened,
blacktop igneous
pavement glittering–
shimmering
in rigid obsidian.

Hidden within this vision
visits
solitude, unsolicited–
loneliness exhibited,
never fitting in;
island imprisonment
as bridges begin
quivering
above stygian rivers grim,
abysmal reflections glint,
swimming in viridian.

Water's
brim risen
to vertiginous limits
I see
flitting images
of cataclysmic collision
with frigidness
obliterating to oblivion.

A dismal wish
reminded by
a grisly glimpse
of figments vivid since
residual shiver imprints
from winter's winds
whipping shins
and thinning skin;
I cringe, wither, wince,
my eyelids squint–
but I still live, so
no longer motionless
my frostbitten digits grip,
limbs never given in
to blizzard's pins
or crystalline prisms–
I walk,
despite icy splinters
and misery digging in
my ambition wins.
This one took me at least a year to write, just took me a while to form it into something more cohesive (and im still not sure its as coherent of a narrative as i was aiming for 🤷‍♂️ lol)... still not quite satisfied with the ending but for now it just is what it is i suppose.

And because i use a rhyming dictionary and usually learn words/things as a result, here are some less commonly used words (to save anyone the time having to look them up)...

Visage (vizij) - 1. the surface of an object presented to view, 2. a person's ****** expression.
Stygian (stij-ee-uhn) -  of or relating to the river Styx.
Viridian (vr·i·dee·uhn) - a blueish green color.
Vertiginous (vur·tij·i·nuhs) - causing vertigo, especially by being extremely high or steep.
Sep 28 · 191
Summer's Sleep
Summer surrenders sunlight to snow, so slow;
in shades of yellow and red reposed,
autumn’s amber drove.
Into the cold and winter’s wanton woes
restlessness still blows;
despite the icy bite unavoidably exposed,
now a blooming green, in memory still glows.
Through longer nights and silent sleeted sorrows
by keeping close a wealth of warmth from yesterdays ago, I’ve borrowed;
I close my eyes today and dream, now of tomorrows.
Can't believe I wrote this 9 years ago... this used to be one of my best poems (and is probably one of maybe two from 7+ years ago that aren't awful ****)... wild to see how much my style has changed (and my poetry has improved) over the last 9 years.
Sep 17 · 411
Unrequited (1st draft)
So nicely
love like
a knife slit
siphons the life from me.

Just the price to be
unrequited,
like a vice grip tightness
strife will seize.

Lightning strike
ignites memories,
fighting
horizon's eve.

Island retreat,
my plight
in crisis
I flee.
Sep 2 · 210
Fall (2nd draft)
Wind sweeps me
off feet
away from
eden's weeds,
ankles buried.

Gaze momentarily peeks
overhead scenery
between steepest
seas of greenery
so clearly breached,
sun beams cleave
trees' canopies
as they breathe.

Grieving the reasons
seasons recede,
summer's heat retreats
before fall will weep
each and every red leaf.

Beneath bark
heart still beats
like machinery,
arteries bleed
and release debris,
branches secreting seeds
til winter's freeze
renders
timbers' limbs empty.

Arms that reach
for sweet reverie
of the breeze
but instead
creaking knees disagree
as body pleas for relief,
searching for
fleeting serene peace
in frigid degrees.

Featureless creature
seized by defeat
no safety,
plagued by diseased
vulnerabilities.

But time's slipstream
reality the
only guarantee;
though no belief that
letting go means I'm free
with nothing to keep
yet memories
heavily weighing down
beleaguered dreams.

So I still seek;
each piece of autumn
melancholy potpourri,
fragrantly reminding me
as I sleep.
Original ending didn't quite sit right with me so I completely changed it (and did a handful of other edits throughout the rest of it)... something about the crisp fall air has always evoked nostalgia but seems like today thats finally just turned into melancholy, maybe that's just what happens after a while 🤷‍♂️

Initially came up with this snippet then never ended up working it in, guess it was just too literal for my style lol... maybe stands alone as its own poem?

Why do I still see you
when I sleep,
in my dreams?
I said goodbye so
Why won't your ghost
leave me be?
Plagued by memories
Aug 18 · 66
Unmentioned
Last call
for a shot of medicine;
out the doorway,
jettisoned-
street eddied,
car horns blare
in discordant reveille;
resurrected revenant's
footsteps stumbled,
met cement unsteadily.

Emotionally bankrupt,
emptied and spent of sentiment;
debt, tremendous,
weighing heavily;
penniless gentleman,
beggar prince unmentioned,
last possession
only paltry poetry expressed
in signature sanguine,
saccharine,
and left stretched pencil thin.
Aug 16 · 631
To Mom
Floods raze,
earthquakes shake,
locusts plague,
lost sheep astray,
and my stomach
is a knotted pit of snakes.

My pain cascades in waves
while you pray
to the angels
and patronizing saints;
it's not God's grace
testing faith
but a mind erased
as brain deteriorates.

It isn't fate
but a baby languishing,
afraid of danger,
drained,
trauma ingrained
so I must vacate
because mom
I can no longer bear the weight
of being brave
and maybe I can't be saved
but I can't stand
to see you in this state
and I can't stay
so please just remember
all the love I gave-
I love you always
and I'll take that straight
to my grave-
I never placed the blame,
I'm just exsanguinated
and i bet you'll never even realize
today is my birthday
so i guess I'll see you
at the pearly gates-
please don't wait.
This one is definitely my most personal/raw (and i dont know how I feel about airing this publicly) so not sure if I'll even keep it...

My mom has schizoaffective with religious hallucinations/delusions and is very much in denial... ive tried to figure out how to get through to her for years and in a couple brief moments of lucidity thought I had a couple breakthroughs... but her mental health has rapidly declined to the point where just trying to have a basic conversation is impossible (and made me realized how traumatized I now am because of her, what it still does to *me* because i cant even talk to her without shaking now, etc) and she refuses to ever get proper treatment so I finally had to cut her off (because it would be too heartbreaking to watch her suffer and continue deteriorating, isn't fair to me to let her drag me down with her just because I still care, she won't get help, etc)... I wrote her a letter trying one last time to get through to her and gave her an ultimatum whether or not she wants to keep me in her life and now i have to just know I tried all I could. It took me a week to write... but unfortunately untreated bipolar and schizophrenia are also neurodegerative conditions (and the brain loses gray matter over time) so it eventually becomes a pretty serious impairment as heartbreaking as that is to watch, so im not sure I'll have much luck...

Also saw the date and hadnt even realized it was after midnight so it was my birthday... checked when she texted me (because that's what prompted me emailing the letter) and it was at 12:04am (a mere four minutes into my birthday) and I can guarantee she won't even realize. Thought it was eerily fitting though...
https://youtu.be/q067Au9GA-g?si=VZC-v8SnXGx5xP-X

I'm lucky enough to live in a city with a great poetry scene (and more specifically the Dayton Poetry Slam open mics) which ive recently started attending... last time i went one of the people who runs it asked if he could play the recording of this poem on the radio (which I'm beyond excited about) sometime in September (date still TBD)... bear in mind this was 2 weeks before my first visit to the psych ward and about a month and a half before my first attempt (since I was a kid), although im doing a bit better now. This is what I'd originally written to say beforehand (but got too nervous 😆):

This one isn't really my best or favorite but its definitely my most personal... I've struggled with suicidal thoughts and feelings for almost as long as I can remember, tried to **** myself when I was 9 but wouldn't acknowledge it to myself as a serious attempt til I was in my early to mid 20s cuz I didn't get hurt... then it wasn't until I looked back on it and realized that no, I definitely was trying to (which is part of how I came to realize I have bpd since I shouldn't have reasonably wanted to or tried to at that age like I did)... unfortunately the feelings have never gone away, and although I haven't tried again since then I have gotten pretty **** close. It seemed like things had gotten better for a while, then worse, then better, then worse again... but I've been holding out for things to get better again and I guess what I'm really trying to say is just that so long as you're still holding on, things can get better again. It may not feel like it for a long time and the whole time you might be asking yourself if it ever can but so long as you're still holding on things can get better eventually (in ways we may never expect), but if you give up too soon you'll never see it happen. So just hold on.
https://youtu.be/q067Au9GA-g?si=VZC-v8SnXGx5xP-X
Aug 13 · 229
Betray (2nd draft)
Bathed in rain
tracing emaciated frame
til sun's splintered rays
broke through hazy days of grey-
clouds gave way
and you came
like a flame ablaze.

But by the time
summer cicadas sang again
your love had waned,
entangled embrace betrayed;
pangs of anguish,
despair, and anger
as your name changed
into a stranger's face and gaze.

Dull this ache of my heartbreak
to a wraith that hangs in the shade
until you fade away,
for all ive loved has been in vain
and all that remains
are sanguine stains
and the taste of decay.
Aug 4 · 397
Frozen Rose
Like a lonely rose
froze to stone,
heart hardened to marble
below a coat of snow;
barbed bones grow
labored and slow
but red petals
still radiate, aglow-
posed not quite open,
although not quite closed.

Warmer wind blows,
rain drops
clapping, lachrymose;
spring-lit spirit sprints
towards summer solstice, awoke;
green leaves,
emerald embers stoked,
emitting dandelion smoke.

Trophy bouquet meadows
of romanceless nosegay
and posy mosaic laying apropos;
seeds evoked and thrown
from my own torso.

Emotions
forwards flown
to almost certain vertigo
then swiftly sunk in undertow
from only breeze's uneven strokes;

No thing hallowed,
corpse bloated, decomposed;
worms hunger and burrow,
tomorrow sowing unknown woes-
soul harrowed as if I chose.
Side notes-
A nosegay or posy is a small flower bouquet, introduced in the Middle Ages as a means to counteract the strong odours of everyday life and for protection against disease, but when interest in the language of flowers peaked during the Victorian era flowers and herbs in nosegays were chosen not just for their scent but for their symbolism as well, as a way to communicate the feelings of the person who wore it or of the person who gave it as a gift. Here it has a double meaning.
Harrow means acutely distressing... or a cultivating tool set with spikes, teeth, or disks and used primarily for breaking up and smoothing the soil... here it also has a double meaning
Jul 29 · 534
Distance (2nd draft)
I was listless,
but my fist still twisted,
fingertips gripped
with arthritic stiffness,
grasping for
a gift misgiven.

Spirits lifted,
so my heart skipped its—
yet hands still slipped
with a vicious quickness;
ripped a rift across,
swiftly drifted.

Ill-equipped to fix this
vertiginous abyss
from my precipice,
til obsidian black eclipses
even the lips
that kissed it;
beloved blisses
left amidst
empty wishes,
beyond the reach of wrists,
which shifted;
crippled by what exists—
a distance.
Still not too sure about this one, hard to tell when adding more clutters things up a bit, hard to tell if the flow gets interrupted or stumbles anywhere (so if it does for you please let me know lol)
What was the catalyst,
and how long did you mask it?
How long were you drifting across this canyon's blackness til vastness
held your passions captive?
What happened?

I told you I'd have done anything
if you had asked it...
I actually loved you
and it wasn't just some infatuous actions.

But I just walked away-
it's in the past and time elapses;
I wanted to plea for you to take me back-
but no, I won't do that-
in fact I'll bury the casket.
Not sure how I feel about this one (or if I'll even keep it) since it's a bit more personal (and ill get over it eventually lol) but who knows 🤷‍♂️
Jul 2 · 216
Honeydew (2nd Draft)
In **** communion with you
two bodies blooming,
fluidly fused.
Blushing, rouge-
human muse
illusion's hues
in but a glimpse,
a view;
maroon turned blue,
and like sweet honeydew
exhumed at the roots
feelings bruised
as you withdrew.
Hell at least if heartbreak is good for one thing it's getting rid of writer's block 😆 pretty happy with this one as a 2nd (and final) draft though 🤷‍♂️
Apr 4 · 313
Broken Window
Like a window smashed,
waxing accidental cracking of glass;
canyons mapped as light refracts fast,
captured through snapping fragments and gaps.
Hung unintact, procrastinating its shattered collapse,
stress tracks have the last laugh
as paths from impact form webs and traps.
Gilded, a net of gold wraps as fractured attack grasps
before being scattered and blackened to an abstract mass of countless unmatching halves.
Tangled, travelling passions cast into a savagely scratched mask;
mouth closed, asphyxiated, and afraid to gasp.
Another older one, but ive been feeling this way lately especially

Calling some poetic license on this one... 'gilded' means coated in a layer of gold leaf/paint, but in this case is meant more like Japanese Kintsugi... which Wikipedia defines as:
"Kintsugi ("golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi ("golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise."
Mar 11 · 3.9k
Note to Self (Part 2)
Breeze bellows,
leaves echo in
quivering psithurism,
dithering like
unbroken smoke,
this approaching omen goads.

Dozing crows
slumbering in rows,
droves of locusts'
silenced drone,
almost comatose in repose;
nighttime overtones
choir of toads'
raspy croaks
answered by alto
of crickets' orchestral strokes.

Gust encroaches;
robed boughs
cloven open,
bring into
scope and focus
me juxtaposed,
suspended apropos.

Although motionless
and petrified in stone,
provoked by zephyr
coaxing to and fro;
swaying pendulous
and no longer frozen,
locus gently thrown.

Death rattle moan
evoked from throat,
reflex can't say no
to rigor rigidly posed,
final sigh in silence,
awoken vocal,
expelled and disposed.

Smote by
morose emotion,
gun loaded then exploded
by neurosis,
now bloated
necrosis decomposes
into gross ochre.

This trophy
and this ode
both an opus to
my inability to cope;
romanced i proposed,
eloped and betrothed to
my own
inappropriate composure.

Pocket full of posies
plucked when luck bestowed
and tears in a cup, a toast;
crying copiously,
tempest runneth overflowed,
eyes swollen and soaked.

Dipped my toes
in the coast
of this ocean's
amorphous folds,
gripped by undertow
holding control of my soul;
swiftly shipwrecked in
shallow shoal,
an old atoll.

On sandy floor,
water burrows roads;
digging, carving, roams
through unmarrowed
silica and sandstone
eroding into a cove.

A host for
opal geode trove,
enclosing a
technicolor rose,
from the depths
a glowing mosaic shone

Unopened lotus floats
on foam
of lapping waves,
a boat;
prone to no
grandiose notion
or motive,
adrift as wind stokes.

I suppose
this only shows
the total corrosion
into which I dove,
the only foes to oppose
are those of burdens, so
only weightless can I atone-
I must let go.
Not sure how i feel about this one, just because I'm not sure if it effectively communicates what I was trying to express... tried to revisit it several times over the last few years since i wrote it (hoping to maybe revise it a bit) but every time I've come up a little short on ideas how i might do that (to the point where ive been considering just scrapping it entirely and rewriting a Part 2 from scratch lol)... still not sure though, since it *is* a fairly coherent continuation of Part 1 (and I wanted to retain that continuity) so any criticism or feedback is especially appreciated for sure!

Also just some things for context while reading:

Psithurism is the sound wind makes through the trees.

Opal is made by water running through silica and sandstone then evaporating.

Lotus has a double meaning in lotus flowers (floating on lilypads) and also its use in Greek mythology as a plant which bears a fruit that when eaten causes dreamy forgetfulness and an unwillingness to depart.
Feb 9 · 3.4k
Note to Self (Part 1)
Internal monologue,
to self, a note:
prose and poetry
I wrote
to what I loathe,
every word I chose
a potent seed of
grief I sowed.

Sturdy oak's
branches, limbs,
and stoic bones
turning into woes of
a weeping willow's roots
overgrown and exposed.

Grain of timber groans,
bends and bows
in billowing wind blown;
a coat of leaves
in ribbons, clothes,
cloaking grove and
hanging rope below;
around my neck,
coiled and closed,
asphyxiating, chokes.

Ungasping,
thrashing throes,
no breath can flow,
slowly losing hope;
devoted to
an unspoken oath,
towing this
floating ghost and
shadow of an ego
dangling alone
on threadbare throne,
only home
I've ever known.

So what, to this world,
do i still owe
and why can't I
just
let
go?
I tried to **** myself when I was 9 (tried sticking a paperclip in an electrical socket) but never acknowledged it to myself (or anyone else) as a serious attempt (because l didn't get hurt or anything) until I was about 25 and finally acknowledged it after years of struggling with suicidal thoughts/ideation... I'm doing much better now, but only after things having gotten worse before getting better... I still struggle with the same feelings, but not as often nor as intensely. And to anyone else going thru it, things can (and usually do) change in ways that we can never predict, but if you opt out too soon you won't be around to see it... hang in there, believe it or not things genuinely can get better (even if its just day by day)...
Jan 15 · 454
Swan Song
As dawn's fog yawns
exhausted jaws call upon
tomorrows and beyond.

Pondering somnolent solitude's
honest and solemn qualms,
the calm before
ancient eons old atomic bomb;
clouds becoming bells of bronze,
air a balmy sauna,
strands of photon blonde
don tree awnings
and lush bladed lawns
strong enough to rouse flora,
fauna frolicking along,
faults and all their wrongs;
summer sunrise,
curtains, drapes are drawn,
phenomenon a drama
of God's pawns,
audience applause
the crawling pulse
of this cosmic throng.

But chronology's period
more like a comma, pause,
as falling autumns quick bygone,
then a wave of frigid wand
and winter's frostbitten trauma haunts;
maudlin waters frozen wanton,
fossilized to icy ponds,
ossified swans mourn silenced songs
their unspoken sonnets
for want of
warm renaissance.
Dec 2023 · 504
December Remembers
Andrew Crawford Dec 2023
Spring spent
as a sprout
bedridden
in sediment
then edifice jettisoned.

By summer
roots ready,
tendons threaded,
a frenzy of
appendages,
extremities extended.

In autumn
stem shedding feathers,
fallen flower petal treasures,
emerald essence surrendered;
amber bled,
blood letting red,
settling
in ephemeral orange embers.

But winter
December veteran
still remembers
fledgling seeds spreading
instead of this,
condemned
to frigid tether
then again severed
and unfettered;
sun's warmth,
tender benevolence and pleasures
if ever through
the coldest weather
and snow yet treaded together.
Sep 2023 · 1.0k
Borderline Disordered
Andrew Crawford Sep 2023
Personality disordered,
untamed ardor explores
every river delta
and corner forked;
borderline morphs.

Formless torment disorients,
roaring torrent force
forging its course,
divorcing arboreal forest floor
into a gorge.

Clear mirror
gorgeously adorned
with floral orchard, adored;
stream looks on in horror, forlorn-
shore a formidable fortress stormed,
water waging war on
brambles, thorny swords,
and flourishing orchids scorned;
armored only by rain's discord
and fresh petrichor worn.
Aug 2023 · 879
Heart Beat
Andrew Crawford Aug 2023
Heart beat,
bruised bittersweetened, bent;
passion’s capillary action
relaxes then contracts again-
a seed beneath,
muscle fatigued,
toils and spends;
roots, a web of arteries extend,
branching tree stemmed,
leaves shedding red oxygen;
veins shredded to the thread,
frayed strands bleed,
unweave and unhem;
rivulets spill, unquenched,
hemorrhaging hands,
their fingers search to mingle, blend;
a crimson cardiac attack, defend-
for a moment, pressure wavering, suspends,
then pulled back, we cauterize
and mend our loose ends;
every line a vine of growth we tend-
surrounding blossoms rose gardens.
Wrote this one a few years ago and not sure how i feel about it now lol... been going back thru old ones trying to put a book together and not sure if I should include this one or not.
Jul 2023 · 439
Lifeboat
Andrew Crawford Jul 2023
Wind bellows,
gusts choke,
ocean's gushing spray
a ghost;
fog in throat
a storm's smokey omen
then
supernovae explosions
of morose emotions.

Juxtaposed,
atop, afloat,
a lone lifeboat
rowing,
going coast to coast;
rain soaks,
thrown to and fro.

Cold, piercing, potent-
rosy nose,
hands exposed,
fingers frozen,
spirit comatose,
bloodied knuckles
bursting bones;
both broken open
and all so hopeless,
struggling
just to keep oars,
boards oaken,
devoted to
a stroking motion.

In search of a post,
a place to tie a rope
but I'm a skipping stone
about to slip below.
Jul 2023 · 725
Rain For Weeks
Andrew Crawford Jul 2023
Rain falls in sheets for weeks,
ceiling springs a leak;
from the weeping breach
the waterline soon creeps,
stream flooding in furious
flurry of worries, deep.
Innumerable leagues beneath,
unfathomable meters and feet steep;
wrapped in the blackest and bleakest grief
wreathing my neck, I can no longer breathe.
Stifled, I can plea and scream,
but this abysmal void eats me
like a parasite, a thieving leech
suffocating, siphoning my speech,
bleeding my body weak
until all that’s left in this sea
are clothes to blow in undertow
like shredded leaves
and bones to be part of some unseen reef;
into the yawning depths of this sleep,
death swallowing every secret to keep-
I close my eyes and hold my breath for relief.
This one's a few years old but got almost no visibility due to issues with the site a while back so I'm reposting
Jul 2023 · 850
Seas Subsided (5th draft)
Andrew Crawford Jul 2023
Ocean's brine collides
and threatens to capsize
my entire island.

Wild tides violently writhe,
striving for sky highs,
waves and wake
annihilate horizons.

Darkness disguises,
only outlines
for tired irises
to try finding
while dilated
behind eyelids,
hiding nighttime's crimes
inside blindness.

But guiding signs smile,
morning's light shining
still reminded;
so sublime
when stormy seas I've survived
have finally subsided.
Still not sure how I feel about this one (as usual lol)... might be a bit of a work in progress, might end up just scrapping it completely 🤷‍♂️
Jun 2023 · 796
Island
Andrew Crawford Jun 2023
Feeling a dryness filling my sinus,
altitude ascending,
rising mile highness
in the quietness and silence.

Incline scaling side of
this piled detritus,
climbing mountain of vileness
just to see off this island.

Blindness fills irises
seeking lands and their tyrants,
kingdoms fighting
incited by shining diamonds;
but all eyes can spy is
skyline's vibrant twilight,
clouds bathed in violet,
stars aligned with waves
riotously violent.
Wrote this one a little over a year ago and somehow forgot to post it on here
Jun 2023 · 288
Untitled (1st draft)
Andrew Crawford Jun 2023
Snowflakes draped,
landscapes of paper
froze opaque.

Vacating
sacred spaces
forsaking each and every station
seeking safest places.

Alienation shaping faces
of white dunes elevated,
night soon erases
fading traces illuminated,
lighted by moon phases;
glacier's pace excruciating,
frostbitten, frigid
in an aching stasis.

But I awaken from sedation,
summer's warmth embraces;
June not even undertaken
so I await and ruminate
in patience.
Had some bits and pieces lying around and finally turned them into something more cohesive/coherent but still not sure how i feel about this one (as usual lol)
May 2023 · 268
Can't Stay
Andrew Crawford May 2023
Heart ache,
invitation to communication
breakdown I take,
stakes it’s claim in
vacated real estate;
warms after winter
with a shiver and shake.

Laying naked, awake,
my eyes on the nape
of your neck as you slept,
every breath held the depth
of a lake.

I stay;
mouth, a maw agape-
brain a cage no animal escapes.
All these words in mind,
I still can’t find the right way to say...
can’t we just lay around another day?
I know you can’t stay
but I won’t let the memories fade
and I would trade all the sun for the shade
if only one more night were made.
This one is a repost from a few years ago... didnt write it about anyone or anytime in particular, more just a general feeling... wasnt sure if i liked it when id initially written it, but nowadays it's taken on a whole new meaning
May 2023 · 170
Vacancy (1st draft)
Andrew Crawford May 2023
Escaping trachea
death rattle on my tongue
leaves a taste of vacancy;
can barely breathe,
these black lungs wheeze,
never sleep heavenly.
Born nakedly,
basic needs
became an aching grief;
never what it seems
no sanctions nor safeties,
all i achieve
is empty pleas.

Is it heresy
if a nightmare's just
how demons dream?
Hellaciously
faces scream
awakened by the smell of kerosene;
even atheist abomination,
disgraced and faithless,
keeps belief in satan
in this place of fiends.
Still had writer's block but this one actually came out pretty quick... was also experimenting a bit with multisyllabic rhyme
Apr 2023 · 394
Turn and Toss
Andrew Crawford Apr 2023
From atop lofty thoughts,
dropped off softly;
so often, I lay awake
turning and tossing,
internal monologue talking,
masochistic sophistry blossoming
as it ought not to be.

A colossal cloth,
silken plume,
ink blot shades of grey
spread, peacocking;
this offering of pebbles brought
a monument
to all of the impossible
rocking before toppling-
comatose and claustrophobic,
I can exert no reverse inertia
to stop this cacophony.

Anxious, fraught,
my worries stalking me;
distraught
and tense posturing;
I fought to hold,
my fingers taut;
knuckles knotting,
vices tightly throttling.

Locked between
clock's tick and tock,
every second,
hands painstakingly wrought-
caught up,
sudden and shockingly.

Crawling awkwardly,
clawing at the walls,
coughing from the noxious oxygen
of my own rotting sarcophagus.

Insomnia fostering this paradox,
mocking me;
sleep deprivation walking,
no elysian veil to cross for me;
my own exhaustion
the coffin accosting me;
awful volume of this noise
ultimately just grains of static
all for naught,
frothing
and washed to sea.
This one is a repost from a few years ago... I recently read it at an open mic though, which is something I've always struggled with (both reading my stuff aloud and especially with social anxiety in front of other people lol)... but I was really happy with how this recording turned out. Still went a little too fast and didn't enunciate as clearly as I would've liked in a few spots but for the most part it was still a lot better than other attempts lol. And the video can be found here: https://youtu.be/TJr5-n6G0Eg
Dec 2022 · 422
Tide
Andrew Crawford Dec 2022
Tensions wind with
sea's rising tide
then curtains' delicate divide.

Tongue's unsung syllables rhyme,
body's language replying in kind
its secrets, inclined to confide
in human passions
humid, dripping liquefied;
sweetness seizes and slides-
a taste inside
where nectar, ambrosial, resides.

Blurring in a flurry
of your nerves and mine
as if designed
to collide then combine
for a time,
you and i intertwined;
lying supine, your
spine obliged to writhe,
legs around head,
softest vices tightly bind,
hands on thighs,
slowly grind
upon this throne you ride,
crown for the divine;
unifying flesh and minds,
higher towards sky
you climb.

Then knot untied
leaves skin sweat soaked-
satisfied,
described only by
a sigh.
Reposting cuz this didnt really get any views last time lol

Never written a poem about *** before (I guess just cuz even reading poems about it always made feel kinda ****** afterwards lol) but tried to do it a bit more tastefully. Not even sure if I'll keep this one tbh, just a rough draft for now

Also just some side notes with this one (since these words have double meanings): Ambrosia - 1. (In Greek or Roman mythology) the perfume/food of the gods, often depicted as conferring longevity or immortality upon whoever consumed it, literally means "immortality" in Greek; 2. Something extremely pleasing to taste or smell.
Nectar - 1. The drink of the gods; 2. Something delicious to drink; 3. a sugary fluid secreted by plants, especially within flowers to encourage pollination by insects and other animals
Aug 2022 · 294
Sprout
Andrew Crawford Aug 2022
Daydreams-
scattered clouds
of feather down
radiating gold around,
lacing outer bounds,
heaven sent
and proudly crowned;
profound and renowned,
astounding throughout-
I bow, devout.

Drowsy, I arouse
raising brow
wondering about
shadows casting doubt
like a shroud.
Thunderstorm
announces with a howl,
sky’s wide mouth shouts,
with a sound devours;
growling gigawatts
of gouging power
on the prowl.

I cower,
loud as a mouse,
counting the amount
of seconds I allow
to slip by every hour;
scavenging and scrounging
to find a route,
I flounder
until I found
a seed endowed;
forged in drought
and valor.

Spouting fountain,
dousing the ground
in a shower;
unwound, this sprout
and boughs will tower;
a house beneath
its blossomed flower.
I build a mound,
even if I can't surmount,
my spirit is scoured-
and I vow this garden is ours.
How now brown cow?

This one's a repost from a couple years ago... ive had writers block going on 6 or 7 months now, so I've been going back over older poems trying to either fix the part that didnt sit right with me or scrap them altogether (in favor of trying to develop a newer, better poem)... the beginning of this one never sat right with me but I am happy with some parts of it
Jul 2022 · 267
Greenhouse Unattended
Andrew Crawford Jul 2022
Weary gaze's attention
drifts between dimensions,
mind eyes' pensive lenses
pondering past tenses,
my five upended senses
blended somewhere
in suspension.

Memory's tender reverie apprehended,
seeking splendid spring times
sweet scented;
garden's greener entrances
no fences,
nor damage from
relentless tempests
long since lamented.

When did
rhododendron's appendages,
flowering in a tremendous energy,
ascending to a trembling crescendo
end in
sour fruits of limes, clementines, and lemons?
Tulips' two lips
now whispering a slender mention.
Who else had rose blossoms befriended but their bodies' ornamented thorny brethren?
Men, lent their every hands extended
left with wounds weeping,
wrenched asunder, rended,
recoiling resented.

Pen's river runs
in quintessence,
drenches in each sentence;
blood can't cleanse
despite dispensing in
perennial attempts
as if gravity's
contention depended,
gentle tendrils built
tall walls defenses,
stems became cemented,
and how long have I been
within this glen hidden?
Sorry for a bit of a repost, had writers block for the last 6 or so months (despite writing and rewriting a lot, nothing seems to stick or amount to much) so ive been making a few final changes to some poems hoping it'll help oil the gears...
Nov 2021 · 156
Bloom (rough 1st draft)
Andrew Crawford Nov 2021
Is this a muse
or more reasons for abuses?
Truly clueless,
mind exhuding a slew,
a room full of excuses
to continue
this stupid and futile nuisance.

Sapling seed of spruce's,
soil spews like vesuvius
erupting abrupt and exuberant,
earth quaking magnitude rifts.

Sprout shoots up
and exhumes it:
mute and fugue,
bereft of youth missed,
solitude's dirt entangled tomb lifts.

Roots, feuding for nutrients
desperate to consume it;
sunlit view askew,
tree grew incongruent,
boughs barren, fruitless,
few nectars and juices
soon turned putrid;
ichor oozes,
residue strewn
as autumn blew kiss-
how could I choose this?

Blue bruises bloomed
crimson wounds
cut contusions,
red rose petal plume proves this;
skin and sinew fixed anew,
akin to knotted, rotting bark;
subdued and losing, I withdrew
as deja vu gripped.

Branches bones
hand hewn and grooved
with last protruding tooth,
Ive pruned all
but that which can't be removed
once I'm through this;
after all I'm only human
in a wilting garden of quietude
who never even knew bliss.
Probably gonna edit later cuz im not so sure about it, particularly the end.
Nov 2021 · 179
Sway (2nd draft)
Andrew Crawford Nov 2021
Adjacent places in space,
alternating waves
and fluctuating states
encased in ancient clay
taking vague shape
creates and unmakes
its own paper maché face;
portrayed,
gave name, draped-
vagrant flame ablaze,
nascent and awake.

Into the fray,
blades flaying
flesh agape,
my skin scraped,
nothing safe;
I must leave no trace
and base no faith
in erased slate;
afraid,
higher stakes played,
will I pay?
No way to relate,
what could I ever say
to convey?

Earth quakes
cities vacated and razed
as heavenly body vibrates
reasserting reign;
tectonic plates break,
fissures snake,
aimless traipsing fingertips;
hastily laid basement's
pavement caves in,
labyrinthine maze
of narrow,
harrowed straits
dig my grave.

No escape from this cage, I pace-
my weight betrayed
limping and lame,
graceless skating
figure eights
pirouette rotate
as frame decays to waste,
body aches
with age and dismay,
lines tracing pain
I await the day
and for whose sake?

Chaste,
craving a naked embrace
to kiss on the nape,
just a taste
could stave or slake;
gazes trade-
sudden sun rays,
through clouds grey laced,
my eyes dilate,
invading the gates
of my brain.

Breath bated,
taken away;
fates interlaced
or am i only
swayed astray
by another wraith
that will fade into shade?

Emaciated,
to be slain by my own starvation
and hunger pangs?

Will circle of veins
be exanguinated, drained
as seedling baby daisies' chains
are spewed and scattered into May
in springtime bathed in sanguine rain,
by summertime a scarlet stain?

Will I be jaded
to a hue of navy blue,
will foray turn beige?

But I gave chase and prayed.
This is another one I'm unsure if I prefer the first or second version. Probably the other version since it's more concise, just figured I'd put this one out there anyway since there were some parts I did like (might even just rework/rewrite it later, who knows)
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