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When Adam ***** Eve
And calls out Lilith’s name
the slinking Power inside her
Opens one sleepy eye
And uncurls two glistening fangs
Eve wraps her fingers around Adam’s given rib
Hands ****** and covered in blood
Eve plunges bone into sacred heart
Hears him gasp from gospel mouth
Mutters her name like prayer,
Like truth
Winds herself around him in python embrace
Swallows the blessed body whole
And becomes the Garden he dies in

God looks away
 Apr 2019 Skaidrum
ryn
Day’s End
 Apr 2019 Skaidrum
ryn
.
Mighty palette
in the sky.
Feast of pastel colours
of sundown.

Nestbound birds
sang up a cry.
Alone I sat,
grass-crested mound.

Inhale a breath,
exhale a sigh...
Pocket of bliss,
peace on earthly ground.



.
“I dont know”
was my response
when you asked me if
I still love you

the world stopped
for the both of us
as I wondered on the thought
of me, being selfish
or being true
and yours upon the
realization that
maybe, just maybe
my love for you
is fleeting

neither of us was speaking
and the silence echoed
through the depths of my head
and you uttered
‘oh’

that moment, I knew
that you gave up
on me, and my inner
indecisiveness

I crumbled upon
the guilt of telling you
those words, so instead
I let my tongue do
the talking and said
'maybe'

cause it was never hard to say

but it is always hard to face

the reality of being responsible
to someone

as if I have to breathe
through somebody’s pair of lungs
and scratch the loneliness
with someone else’s fingers

we parted
I changed numbers

cause I had to stay afloat
on the clouds of solitude
free from attachments.
 Mar 2019 Skaidrum
Vinnie Brown
And I suppose these are hardly poetry
More mad man ramblings
With no rhyme or reason
Asked who inspires me
I could’ve said Bukowski, Poe, or even Dickens I suppose
Yet, I listed the Jamadhi’s and Nat Lipstadt
All the way to the Edmund Black’s
Even the ever infamous DelleFemine
Who I usually disagree with
Yet, they are true poets
Who’s words demand to be read
How I aspire to stand amongst you
Tall and brave
For you are the poets of my world
And I hope you’ll be immortalized
Sitting godly with words filling all the spaces inbetween
There are so many more I could’ve listed and I hope those too shall live on forever
Etched under my skin
Flame roses blister

The scars on the
Palms of my hands
Bleed stigmata thorns

My eyes freeze to crystal
The tears 'round my throat
Are fashioned in
Black lace obsidian

My lips, the color of
Amber and fire
Are vows never broken

I perceive with the
Ears of prophets
And the vision of
Angels falling

I speak with the tongues
Of solar flares

The light finds me
Pierced with many sorrows
While in darkness
I'm stanchioned at
The fork in the path
Within the garden
Of Good & Evil

My moons are scarlet
My stars are cold
My suns are silver

And
Beaten

GOLD


Catherine Jarvis
(C) 2015
Revised 2018
I've posted this before. This is a repost in honor of my new friend, Jordan.
."Which color would you choose to have not exist and why?"
"gray or black, because they are both really sad"
"yellow, because it's far too bright"
"red, because it represents evil"

I've always admired how other's perceive the world, especially in terms of the obliteration of things. The justification for this obliteration however, is not as admirable as it is intriguing. In terms of colors, it actually seems to be quite tragic.

Without black or gray
I am afraid there would be no other way for my paint to say;
**** every source of light in the world; it's all a facade,
I would rather risk burning in hell then admit there is a God,
because he lit candles for me and drew me into his cave,
but I did not get very far before he blew them out, and turned his "kingdom" into my grave
Do not tell me that God is light or that he is love,
because in terms of what exists, it is none of the above,
And do not tell me that you do not want, "gray or black because they're sad"
because I need them to portray the neglect I have felt from my dad
and the way my mother used to say we would always be together
and draped always in forever
but soon began tearing the fabric with every word and every scar
branded in my memory, on my skin, and in the depths of my heart


So please do not wish them to be gone...
Without them how would anyone be able to hear the color of yellows song?

Oh, without yellow
I am afraid the sun would no longer say hello
And the world would be quite dull,
The sun could not take away the cold
And the world would be left gray and black,
although there is not much of a problem with that,
at least for me,
because the world inside my head is already quite dreary,
but what about those children who oh so adore the bees
and who smile back at yellow flowers among many trees,
or what about when my grays and blacks start to dissipate
and I search for yellow, so I can learn to love instead of hate,
or what about the daisies and the sunflowers that I deeply adore,
why without the color yellow then they would be no more
I understand that you may want to rid the darkness in the world, but do not wish for the demise of sunshine and light,
even if at times you think they are far too bright.
Although there are people like me,
who find this hope and happiness hard to see,
there are people searching for it or basking in its glow,
so do not take away the only thing that can dispose of the cold


Now without gray or black,
and without us smiling at the sun, while yellow smiles back,
how would we know red?
the color that occupies our bodies, from our toes to our head

Ah red
Perhaps if you did not exist then many who I love would not be dead,
perhaps if you were not there,
to release the despair,
they held within their veins,
then I would be able to hold them while we listen to the rain,
but I know I still need you, and without you I'd cry,
because I adore when the gray kisses my skin and you always say hi,
and you have always been both a warning and an end,
although no matter how many times you say hello, I always just pretend,
that your warnings are greetings, and even when you scream at me that the end is near,
I act as though I cannot hear,
Red is evil
Well, maybe they're right
But there are many evils in this world, like the devils that make their home in my head during the night
or the voices that creep their way in my bed,
and without them I am sure I would be dead,
because they comfort me and they are my friends,
just as lovely and as wonderful as the color red

not only I, but we need colors such as these to feel. we need them because without one color nothing would be the same, even other colors would lose their contrast or hue. we need them because even though they may be associated with sadness, evil, or annoyance, they are an important part of the world's painting. so although you may not enjoy a particular shade, do not wish for it to go away, because without them nothing would be the same.
 Dec 2018 Skaidrum
Ally Ann
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't
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