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11.9k · Apr 2018
Whispering Room
She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze
Not sure. I've been editing it for awhile and I give up.
2.3k · Jan 2019
Barren shoes
Feet bare and scarred, limp toward the edge
scabs pinch at tired flesh
skin of leather fights gnawing winds
trampling the barren land, where graves begin

The shoe fits this haggard beast
he no longer roams the church of priests
no faith is left, no judgement thrown
A mountain up, a cliff below

One item left behind in folly
atop the edge a haunted body
time can cut emotions thin
shadows linger where soles have been
Prompt was worn boot
1.9k · Jun 2019
A place I know
Somewhere beyond the hast of commerce,
where noises sing rather than shout.
I know of a place under a canopy of emerald leaves, haloed in the sun.
Creatures come to crawl and fly, soaking the bounty growing natural.

Moments of stillness blow soft, carrying stresses away.
It's a place owned by the trees, they bend to greet travelers weary of their cage.

A place I long to stroll,
where summer kisses all that lives
and wildness sprouts within
A happy place
1.8k · Feb 2018
Admiring Rainbows
My time spent chasing rainbows taught me of pipe dreams,
and liars.
Dusting off the fairy dust,
I learn my limbs have life
Evolution saunters, entertaining kings
Picking fights, for the sake of the queen

Animals were made to bleed
Rainbows are made from rain.
partials of color
tend to escape

My time spent chasing rainbows, gave me bruises
cuts so deep, I never heal
there is beauty in the damaged flesh
solace in regret
Truth shines across the sky
colored in lies

I spent my time chasing rainbows, lost in the thrill
I should have spent my time admiring the still
the small feel, of standing beneath.
1.6k · Mar 2019
For in her eyes
For in her eyes
lie solemn cries
Irises of icey blue

With in her mind
You will find
Voices playing tunes

First, they sing
Last, they sting
Screaming, screaming
Hear them ring

They tell her lies and sprinkle truth
They lure her soul into the blue

Can you see her eyes
How they truly cry
Irises of icey white

Can you find
With in her mind
The answers of the night
It might need work
1.1k · Jun 2019
Blackness came
What can I say it provoked me.
The smokey black slithered with sultry grace
passed all my carefully placed defenses.

Humor me, it spoke
caressing the ear.

I watched the glow of it's single eye
searching my mind
The black became a tether
knotting, choking.

What can I say I did nothing,
little lamb laid to the slaughter.

I remember it choking, the smokey black.

Like a raven haired lover,
A mistress of shadow wills my curiosity
In that moment, lost to the movement
I would or could never return.

Pinned to obsession
staggering the lines of possession
A rebel's tango begins
the staccato steps to be my end.
about letting your problems win, night anguishes
1.0k · Jan 2019
Ashes of Last Night
The potency froths the glass in ghostly embers.
Rectifying a suppressed kiss.
Liquid's juicy lubrication sweats
as the icy voice asks,
refill my void.

Fingernails cling
like thorns to skin.
Waterlogged and fogged,
my footsteps fall,
sloppy little domino.

Mindful thoughts yank at drunk appendages.
One too many benders, far too many hands.

Awake, the memory kaleidoscopes.
Pieces unmatched.
Strange images fade,
meshed in sheets.
evidence stains.
866 · Nov 2018
Fields of blue daisies
The sweet daisy with her bright smile and white collar, marks the birth of spring.
She sheds her tender petals in the breeze.  
Sailing graceful like a summer snow.
When the dark skies fold over the shimmer of the sun, you may find the daisies turning colors.
Her sunny mood, dampened.
White and pure no longer.
On dark days, marked with grief
You may come to find a field of blue daisies, blowing paled, darkened petals like the rain.
733 · Jun 2019
The Lion's Roar
I watch the yellow grasslands growing slow,
safe inside my window frame where heartbreak can not reach.
I'll remain the captured queen silently content with my small space.
My conscious clean, no blood to stain.

The golden beast of the sahara soaks in the open fields.
Afraid of no one and nothing but hunger.
Crowned long ago, his reign will outlast the wars, the floods, the drought.
Hands enormous enough to ****, gentle enough to love.

I remain, eyes fixed on the beast as he belts a roar.
The sound vibrates my glassy outlook, coaxing a scream of my own.
Salty tears and shuddered cries, break the crusted lips.
Pain erupts, long lodged deep in the gut.
The broken wail of majesty, shakes lose the inner me.
614 · Jul 2018
I felt my sorrow
Wishful thoughts float inside a pretty melody
Sullen voices pour the silky wine for me
This darken red fills me
And your absence will drown me

The stool in which I sit
Has a deep impression
As if my *** were made for it
The feel of my glass is wet
As my breast is set
heaving with regret

Have you ever felt my sorrow?
Has someone ever broken what was borrowed?
Holding clutching then crushing
A delicate flower

This hollow withers still
No matter how much wine I fill
No matter how many tears are spilt
No matter really, if time can heal

Because agian this feel will rise
Above the sunny beauty of life
Its burrowed in deep
Depriving of sleep
Holding and clutching then claiming
My keep

If I see you again, with hope in your face
If we pass by, the same little place
Please remember our laughs and forget the mistakes
For my hallowling heart needs
to mend from its breaks
Heartbreaks, cut deep
532 · Jun 2019
Scarlet Queen
Always waltzing as she walks
a scarlet queen of color
Her darling poses, win her roses
men captured by her glamour.
A little Diva
473 · Jun 2019
The Legend of the Left
In the beginning when Adam met Eve beneath the canopy of paradise
they agreed on most things.
They basked in the perfection of all that surround, laughing at each other's jokes.
One day Adam carved a gift for Eve.
Tirelessly wildling the branch of an oak tree.
"Tools", he boosted as she stroked the small utensils.
"I'll call them forks," said Eve happily setting the table.
What came next sparked an age old debate, as Eve grasped her fork in the left hand, Adam in his right.
"What are you doing?" he vexed, scratching his head.
"That hand is incorrect!"
"Tis not my sweet, it is the hand I use to eat, I am in my right mind my dear, you are the uncultured one here!"
And so it began, as they reproduced.
Cain was right handed as was Seth, but poor Able was born with his mother's fondness for left.
Left hands unite
428 · Mar 2018
Beginning to end
Dawn was born in the beginning
Dusk born at the end
Only to circle back to dawn
For dusk to be born again

Circles, cycles turn and die
Then turn around to wave
Morning awakes to live
While night sleeps in her grave

Know the end is not the end
Only a simpler way to phrase
The birthing of a dawn
The beginning of future days.
A poem of circles
409 · Oct 2018
The fiddle mile
The hollow string, mellow hole
Vibrates a trickle mile
I took the turn of my lover's choice
Singing all the while

Her flat tune, was missing you
Her hair a nasty knot
I captured what I knew
and hailed the bitter tune
On the trickled front

With out the bass
No jug in hand
I long for vibrant stings
Blistered hands
And bitter things
Long forgotten
Come the spring
My feels from fiddle tune
394 · Mar 2018
Your Ocean Eyes
I'm out chasing my own dreams,
in a nowhere field woven in figments,
pieces of us, stitched at the seams.

Fading sunsets by the water
I find, I wander,
back to your ocean eyes.

The promises they whisper
as the tide eclipses, to twist the iris.
Hues caress the picture
reflecting ocean green
370 · Apr 2018
Odd things
In real life you discover things in the oddest places
Perhaps you are sitting at a bar sipping a beer
And you share a look with someone
A sudden thought is stirred
You're life clicks, the constant problems you've been calculating
Finally equate
And the world for a moment
Makes complete sense

It's the strangest feeling
Like a surge or a breath
God has taken his lips to yours and given you something to believe in

Tomorrow looks brighter on days like this
And the world makes sense
When you're feeling good
368 · Mar 2018
Her sun-kissed face was painted shy.
Closed eyed, her lashes shimmer.
Redden lips pucker,
our feelings glimmer.

Limbs brush, grind then speak.
I place my hand under cheak
and spank the skin with my own.

Our cloaks of royal stitching
mingle exposing, panels of flesh
Twined minds wrapped
a couple meshed.
I was trying my hand at subtle adult, inspired by love.
366 · Mar 2019
Obsession's Trap
There are tunnels to places with holes in the world.
The bottom is endless where darkness endures .
I can hear from the top, a voice pulling me down.
The twinkle captures my thoughts in a rhythm of sounds.

I've walked passed the rabbit hole too many times.
Choosing to remain unscathed by it's crimes.
And every day I wander back to its door.
Enraptured with the calling and dark of it's world.

Each morning I linger at the base of the hole.
Lulled by the melody, seeping below.
Time crashed to a halt standing perfectly still.
My head is a maze, completely robbed of my will.

I reach down with hands, both clean and warm,
to feel the dirt and cold pour out of her core.
I know that I shouldn't, I know that I might,
take a trip down the hole and be back before night.

Obsession grows, taking root in the mind.
Dragging me down, one day at a time.
As I sit by the hole contemplating my dive.
I slowly spiral down without ever knowing why.

There are tunnels to places with holes in the world.
There are those that will dive and those that will swirl.
There are those that will fall without knowing they have.
Fatality drowning in darkness stuck in a trap.
Obsession is a temptress
341 · Jan 2019
Blushing Bleeds
Blushing bleeds
dark against the ivory
We are here in between the hours
watching breezes
with pink flushed skin

I've felt vanity's edges
slick porcelain corners
pain is a passion
Lips tangle me in thoughts
smokey rage, sultry flesh

You hunger for what waits below    
Eternity vents holy hymn
swept in between your lustful murmurs
no perfume lingers
once licked clean

I've broken the ledges
torn and slit open
rolled in lust and pain  
Faking the climb
Come follow me, not far
I sing witchcraft    
while blushing
...what do you think?
332 · Apr 2018
I took the seeds from an unknown
to plant one day, near the lake
And now they sit in the darkness
of my jewelry box
worthy of more

I take the seeds and follow gravity's pull
to the shore
Birds and insects moan
as the sun sets into the acid black
Colors entwined with the moon
burn in pink fury

I wait twelve minutes for the sunlight to disappear
the curve of the moon's crescent glowing
Heavy perfumed winds tickle
my naked arms are prey to the icy spring chill

In the dark I bury my old dried seeds
deep in the soils of earth
I chant a timid song to the moon.
surrounded by magic patterns

I spell the seeds to mingle
root in oblivion, rolled in earth
I give them hope, a potent magic
and perhaps, they will grow
into something more.
I gave a prompt on where I challanged everyone to write a poem about a memory or dream using these 16 words.
Seeds, Clue, Pattern, Acid, Oblivion, Moan, Gravity, Perfume, Curve, Twelve, Worthy, Prey, Wander, Entwined, Fury, Lake

So I wrote my own and this is it.
326 · Mar 2018
Death by Moonstone
Nothing more precious than moonstone,
she'd say
Nothing more precious than moonstone.
Deep in her sleep, she'd mumble the phrase,
over and over as if in a craze
Nothing more precious...

What is moonstone to gold, I would think to myself
as her words sputtered broken but heartfelt.

I glance at the stone, placed by her bed
kept close and safe, tucked near her head
Moonstone silvery woven like thread
blinds me cold, steals my sight, knocks me dead.

Lovely lips part
the **** is her art.
Nothing more precious...
she brushes close, her breath chokes.
I finish her phrase, dying slow
my finale breath utters in madness
nothing more precious than moonstone, nothing more dangerous.
326 · Feb 2018
The Body Snatcher
The body snatcher crawls from the bowels of disaster.
With blunt claws and cracked nails,
he flays the space,
grabbing bodies for the capture.

His home but a place to rest, to close his mind
and slowly peel the layers of dress,
where scars of bodies, picked his flesh.
Attempts so desperate, to remain un-snatched.

The body snatcher dreams of meat.
Meat so rancid, meat so sweet.
Some he sells, some he eats.
He names it snatched cuisine.

The sack he lumbers over shoulder,
resembles a black hole,
Those who enter, learn here after
that death lives stitched in wool,
Those once bagged, often gag
choking on the stench of others.

The body snatcher crawls from the bowels of disaster
A shadowy, feared, malicious captor
I was reading a story about the invasion of the body-snatchers, however I imagine a real body snatcher as something from the underworld with a ***** job to do.
321 · Mar 2018
The Nightcap Wears Off.
The nightcap wears off.
My faded world comes in clear.
Pressed fingers tight to my temple,
help to steady the shipwrecked thoughts.
I see black spots, like blackened pieces of a once finely stitched tapestry.

Unsteady limbs claw at the heavy stench,
tipping then spilling a cup once full.

Behind stormy eyelids, lighting cracks through.
Maddening thoughts spawn, slimming the mind.
Mutant feelings bubble, distilled
ready to bottle.

If this scene had a soundtrack, the chords would howl.
The melodious truth could liquefy our yesterday smiles.
Sudden smacks from the bass come to rustle my withered petals.
Tragedy comes in many pauses.
Reach for your collar, and choke the nonsense.
Don't forget to kick the footstool,
hang the little man, guess the right letter's a vowel.

The smog of the gin, has long passed.
What is left, a hammering build.

The cup once full was my solace.
Solace smells a lot like *****.
From the bottom, I smile upward
To the new day, I flip the *******
and linger back to black.
A poem using all these words I was given at random
-pressed, pause, mutant, cup, hill, collar, eyelids, stormy, cap, footstool, petal, death, blackened,  shipwrecked, chords

I was going for dark, it lead me to a tale of a massive hangover.
319 · Mar 2018
Is a genie blue?
such myths are unclear.
Will a genie grant your wishes?
ridiculous or pure.

In a bottled prison,
will a genie stay?
lounging in cramped conditions
will a genie grey?

Be mindful what is wished
watch each word that is missed
Genies tend to twist a promise.
magic fogs ellipse

Dizzy are these questions
certain I must be,
before I set to seek
a genie just for me.
I was given a word and asked to write a short poem. My word was genie.
305 · Mar 2018
I lay in darkness
If I lay still enough
here in this pitch black vacuum
they call my room.
If I lay still enough
will I disappear?
Fade into the background
mist into memory.

The dark is not that bad
If you imagine it a sun
evaporate that you can't contain
The dark is soothing
If you think of it as medicine
as solace.
A pocket of space
where nothing exists
And you with it

I can lay here, calm
Not afraid of monsters lurking
The only real monsters live inside
They speak too loud.
The darkness crushes all
And I let it

In my pitch black room
I don't exist
And no one can say goodbye
Sometimes you just want to disappear.
300 · Apr 2019
Eyes are the windows
My thoughts illuminate a face of cool regret
while feelings grow hot behind her shaded eyes.

I know not what to say
Her windows do not glow with emotions
Wisdom has gone home, afraid to entertain without the sweetness of ice cream.

A distortion of combating ideas
floating here and there,
salient among the scatter objects
left today, to be swept under the rug tomorrow.

I could say I am sorry
and she could forgive
but Rome wasn't built in a day.

I'll open my windows instead of my mouth
no words, just open books
About wanting to say something, but instead letting your eyes say it.
300 · Mar 2018
You never came.
Steel seams once welded
safety torn and matted
scattered among the blood

I waited, perched
facing the pound
silhouettes of people dance

Lights of blue flash next to red
hurried bodies take in the flesh
torn and matted among the blood

Pebbles tossed create ripples
one action has lingered effects
silhouettes and shadows dance

As I wait,
uniforms investigate, the damage
the glass shards mingle among ****** hair
the scent of burning floats aware

I turn to the breeze
Imaging your hair twined to the wind, dancing
I wait for your embrace
but you never came
I was imaging a lover waiting in the park for her lover, that never came.
295 · Mar 2018
Basic Math
How long have you been struggling,
with the thoughts and theorems caged inside?
How obtuse the sudden angles
knifing us one stab at a time.
When the equation hangs unbalanced,
we look to correct the path behind
When the choice is always present,
to multiply or to divide.
294 · Mar 2018
My recent reluctance plays on repeat
My shaken hands radiate with heat
I choke on my words
Throat thick with lies
I swallow them down
Gagging on my pride
Regret in my chest
I attempt to catch my breath
Praying for solace
My head to the ground
I'm stuck in this moment
I don't want to be found
When your feeling guilty.
The afternoon heat hung like a rising fever.
The old iron gates of the school yard wait to swing.
My feet planted near the outskirts.
Sweeping the sticky hair from my face,
alone I wait.

Chocolate melted in my pocket.
Minutes turn to hours.
A gallery of photographs has passed me by.
Panic snickers, searching for your face.
The waiting, the patience,
feeling more like a punch, than a verb.

The chocolate now a sticky ink, staining my pants.
I feel a voyager aboard a lost ship, floating,
hoping for shore.

Sudden without warning,
you grace my sight,
slow motion, near the gate door.
In one swing, you're here.
The wait long forgot,
hung on your beautiful stare.
Prose poem, using a random collection of words.

chocolate, voyager, gallery, sweeping, warning, iron, swing, old, planted, ink, fever, gates, punch, hung, pocket
288 · Mar 2018
The Strange Mother
The stranger
with the face of my mother
begs for love
abandoned by the door
She's lonely and lovely
I want to help, but she is no one
I can't give her anymore

She looks hurt I don't know her
She looks to the left
her cheeks wet
I feel a tiny stab
Something so familer in her face
But I don't know her
I can't give her anymore

She turns to go, head bowed low
I step forward with regret
Can she be her, mother?
How does one know?

I had a parent once
Someone was there
now there's a stranger
with the face of my mother
crying at my door
My mother and I have an interesting relationship. This was inspired by a combination of feelings towards her a dream and a scene that happened long ago.
287 · Mar 2018
The irony of a yellow room
I have never stood accused of a sunny disposition
yellow doesn't linger in my eyes
see the starkness of the darkness
glare at the plastered happiness

What gives this paint such power?
What warmth is mixed among the chemical reaction?

With in my mind I feel daisy meadows
burning in yellow
petals of white caught in the breeze
shivering stems of green

Banana skin skies
haloed in sunshine kisses
brighten the world
with a joyless disposition

In my room, the walls bleed the same
yellowy and rusty
I'm mocked by an optimistic face
reflecting in the shadow
of my yellow walls

Will the irony fade?
I had a yellow room growing up and I was often a sad kid and hated my walls they seemed to mock my moods.
280 · Mar 2018
Ally Star
Sweet one, dear lost friend
you have moved to the sky, on a higher plain,
free of your darkest pains.
Nestled there, hugging the stars,
surrounded by colors you so foundly wore.

I wish we could have had more time,
time to laugh or share a pint.
But I know you're safe, settled in.
Dancing moonbeams and rocking out to the big bang

I know the grief will someday vanish.
Once time has healed our gaping wounds
the hole you've left will one day fill
with new and exciting thrills.

But when I hear a corn song,
or taste the bubble of a stella
I will think fondly of you and smile.
When a girl with curls of color crosses my path,
I'll turn and wonder if your her.
Maybe I'll yell "hey Ally Progar"
and she will stare like I'm crazy girl.

I want to thank you for the person you were,
for living life the way you want.
No reservations, with a giant heart
I wish you were here, and in some way you are,
never forgotten,
our shining Ally star.
I lost a friend to suicide on tuesday night and thought I would write something about her.
277 · Jan 2019
Her own volition
Conscious or not, my will had a way
feet tend to limp along
dragging a shuffled sound

If power comes from within
where is it hiding
perhaps hanging by the bay
waiting for a ship to carry her
wave by wave
276 · Mar 2018
Liquid Moment
To catch a piece of the sea
is to watch it slip away
like a liquid moment

The feeling of floating
carried gently by the churing blues
is to feel your first kiss
wet and fleeting
or the first snowfall
cold and haunting

The cool greens brush the skin
in elegant dowsing
as the waters push passed
in hurried rushing

The liquid fingers wrestle with your bobbing frame
touching and washing
Underwater, sounds disappear
the waves a thick elixir
rhythmically soothing

There is a peaceful calm,
the tides a natural balm
like a holy water baptizing
cleansing the past mistakes
in salty droplets

I could drift, like seaweed
dipping and diving
sailing the water's surface
washing up on shores unknown
I could stay in this pool,
this endless puddle
feeling the waters
suspended reflections
in liquid moment
the feeling of water
268 · Apr 2018
The dreamer
I have this affliction
you can call an addiction
no matter how innocent
no matter the situation
my limbs do this burning
my feet get to iching
the dreamer's disease
enemy of submission

I fear I'm twined
twisted, unhinged
rhyme after rhyme
binge after binge
potent this chemical
direct the syringe
injecting me drunk
electrifying the fringe

An addict of dreaming
fantasy's fan
reality bites
like a wasp in the hand
real as can be
this enamoring sea
washing me dry
coaxing a scream

I admit that I'm hooked
perhaps it's devotion
diving in deep
vast like the ocean
not a deathly affliction
just a fleeting emotion
I'm an addict of dreaming
reality stays broken
263 · Apr 2018
Garden thoughts
Last night I sat lonely
Wishing for things that could never be
Out my window the moonlight bright on the garden stones
speaks to me

I putter to the gates
Perhaps among the rose bushes
And Lilly beds, I will find
nourishment in nature.

I sit in casted moonbeams
still wishing for things, that could never be
no solace in the garden green
just alone beneath
a midnight scene
Sometimes nature is magical and you think it will bring a peace. Sometime it does and other times not so much.
263 · Jul 2018
Lightning Shattered
The storm flashes white strobe lights
illuminating the soppy landscape
Thunder rolls the hills
crying in loneliness

Alone tucked under the constant strumming of grandfather clock
I am burdened
Weighted down by tornado thoughts
swirling twisters in and out

There is a haunting silence that slices,
in between the booms of night's tantrum
a silence so thin,
the cracks in the hardwood whisper low
They speak of chilling steps lead by ghosts
of wandering hopes, gypsy breaths and thoughts untold

The fire shrinks, flames frightened by the storm
the lights flicker, electrical surges spark
skin crawling fear inches closer
wrapping it's claw up my back

Panic comes with each heave of air,
the silence hovers like spirits crossed over
my eyes wander the four walls, pained in glass
anticipating the boom
The sudden strike that fills empty room
lighting shattered
Thunderstorms conjure ghostly thoughts
258 · Feb 2018
Windowed cell
No light but the moon.
No scene but the unforgiving waves,
vast and melancholy.
Here I pace.

A small room built for torment
my punishment persist
As resilient as I am,
I admit
my mind is about to give.

These four wall haunt me.
Small and lonely.

My cell faces the sea
Dull light chases away darkness,
as the outer world calls awarness

This one glimpse I have,
this small gift
for it
I am grateful

my fragile window.
It started out as a short story. I adapted it to a poem
247 · Mar 2018
I will
I will walk across threshholds long forgot
armed with the conviction, that kindness is not lost
I will stand tall against those who wish my fall
wielding a magic tucked inside my chest wall

I will not surrender, I will not bleed
once overcome a dark relenting need

I will cross thresholds never broke
I will shout the words no one ever spoke
rumbling low, a vibrating scream
echoing wide inside my dreams
246 · Mar 2018
Lesson 1
Have you ever reached
beneath the underneath
of a desk or table?
as you reached,
the lush wooden maple

Find no treat you'd like to keep
Nor gift you'd want to have
Nothing good,
I wouldn't encourage
one reach or grab.

Gum is there to meet your thumb
soaked in germs and goo
residue left mocking you
smells of grandpa's chew

May my learning be your warning
not to reach nor grab
beneath the underneaths
of a gummy trap
I think it's funny. Someone ask me once to write about the most important lesson I had learned. I thought it was a dumb prompt so I went the funny route.
243 · Dec 2018
Liquid words
My words are like liquid,
spilling over the ledge of my mind.
A mountain range of phrases, separated by time
Maybe I could add to this. Or maybe it's perfect the way it is.
242 · Mar 2018
I don't understand myself, nor love myself.
I'm stuck, trapped with a person I can't stand.
I guess that's adult life,
accepting your own misery,
citizens of this wasteland.
235 · Jan 2019
Blue Afternoon
Satin ribbons of galaxy blue sparkle
mild, but melting
they hang from the hair of a sweet gentle head
raven, but silky

One tear to spill for delicate tosses
strands so inky and spellbound in blue
Tides of strands so vast they ripple
whisps glimmer the breeze
smelling of coco and brandy

Bright beams of beach sky all around
waves of plenty
magic images fade
blue afternoons stand still
Blue inspired
234 · Mar 2018
I want to scream
I only want to scream
till my throat, so raw it bleeds
Anger mopes buried deep
it molds to me, as I breath
Choking slowly, I thirst to scream
let out the need
and then repeat
and then repeat
let out the need
I only thirst to scream
choking slowly, it molds to me
as I breath
Anger mopes buried deep
till my throat, so raw it bleeds

When you can't hold in your anger, and all you want to do is....
The deepest cuts, like drippings
gnawed tapered hangings
darkest meats, dragging
separating from bone

Boiled sores, slit scars
sewn together like cotton threads
Needles stab holes (pave avenues) for drugs
We hand sickness a gun

They slip, slump away
like Christmas day, here and gone.
We might remember
or not.
We might just live on.

I'm alive, I guess
slowly rot,
green to purple, putrid flesh

Spots that maggots eat, or lay
but still I live, a walking corpse
down crippled way.

The avenue whines
the boardwalk abandoned
like holy shrines, sings
a language long forgot
The younger can not help,
their flesh hangs, wet

The stones we walk, layered cement
over battles fought
Soggy terrain flooded plain
memories nurtured with death, fead.
Lush meadows green,
nurtured by the bodies we left,
hanging flesh

Drippings, of the deepest cut
226 · Mar 2018
Only you remember, see the lie
Eventually morality fades
The clouds of jealousy roll through
planning to invade your quiet seashore
Eventually those voices latch
like vampires ******* out your good nature

Eventually you must face the dentist
pulling out hopes like rotten teeth
yanking wishes, drilling, inflicting

How do you escape the folly of sin?
Is it on a tavern stool, liquor in hand?
Or do you bury yourself in the flesh?
Continue sinning, waiting for death?

Frightened you choose to run
take the boat out to sea
find a oyster to meal
Hide from the shadows chasing
The deep lays beneath
Fate creeps

Years later you feel defeat
a detour to the graveyard
The undertaker, beaming with hospitality
waiting to paint your finale face
Here you sleep
The darkness
Your truest friend
214 · Apr 2018
My Dragon Ride
A dragon came to my window on last night's silver winds.
Her rainbow wings set like sails, carrying scales and limbs.

Claws of tiny knives, perched the ledge without a sound.
Steamy breath escapes, shrouding her giant frame in clouds.

The beauty of the creature, no mortal could deny.
Hypnotized by the majesty, it's logic I deny.

I ponder her countenance, good or evil, friend or foe?
And without much debate, I find my feet have touched the floor.

To the window latch I stride, drunk with disillusion.
I lift the lock, then push a shove, force the frame to loosen.

The silver winds billow forth, crisp with scented magic.
The dragon calls out, her ancient voice, deep and warm with passion.

She promises no harm would fall me, that dragon's don't attack.
She invites me for a twilight ride, across the moon and back.

The night hovered darkly, under wide spread wings
I, the small explorer, grab hold of the dragon's scaly skin

Aloft the great beast, soaring high above those below
I am tickled with a simple feeling, ready and willing to explore

I turn and wave goodbye to my tiny window ledge
Swirled in magical feelings, my dragon soars the winds
My hand at mystical and whimsical
212 · Apr 2018
Peach blossom scents
slip through the breeze
felt and caressed by half naked trees
with branches stretched
their limbs squeak
with sways they shake
awake they speak
I am dreaming of spring
210 · Apr 2019
If Starlight Could Heal
It's not easy admitting the spots of your being
that make you dark.
Sometimes there is beauty in the starry nights
while alluring and alive,
these far away places free the thoughts that cage the mind .

I'll stare and wonder, swirling in the starry luster, light years from my pain
Are my problems, problems at all?
Perhaps life is bigger than the rot cratered in the sands.

The blackened sea so vast and strange
Can calm the smoke of heavy emotions
I'll stand and whisper a simple phrase.
I am not alone
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