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Autumn Briarhart Jul 2016
I have flowers in my throat.
The rich and fertile caverns of my chest support a ebullient host nematocera, of which, breed in my abdomen, gnawing at my innards.

Swarms of adults congragate in my mind, the competition is fierce.

Attitudes of altrusim: a moist mire, slowing my step.

Try to say, anything, but that.

I'd rather attract the nausa of rhopalocera.
Their light hearted and short-lived whimsy. A far cry from this violent mob. Oh but the sob of emptiness when they all die at once.

A welcome boon, that, maybe we'll come to bloom. Clumsy and crooked, I was never able to make a play when all I'm pitched is a doorsa.
Autumn Briarhart Mar 2016
I am resilient today
I've yet to right a wrong,
Write poem,
Sight a note,
Convey in pros,
Hope for hope,
Join the stream,
Bathe in logos,
Come close to host the thoughts of all;
Boast? I don't think so.
What's not achieved Isn't real?
I cannot convey the souls that reside this body,
This mind,
From which end of the chimera?
The poem intoned,
Vocal aspects of the crone.
Cyclically saying,
I am resilient.
Autumn Briarhart Mar 2016
Emphatic yes.
Mechanical gestures attempt to arrest form,
Bind in possession a moment no longer.
A willful lash,
Resistance necessary,
Violent response to denied consent.
Constant memories.
Accountability never lost,
Never assumed initially.
Mantles are places,
For trophies,......

Remember to buy flame retardant.
Autumn Briarhart Mar 2016
Once quite lovingly animated,
Anticipation, pain.
Unprovoked “retaliation”.

Fairness: a fool’s gambit.
Compromise: what’s yours is mine……
Just left.
That is all there is.
Autumn Briarhart Mar 2016
Lives are funny things,
They’re held together by shoe strings.
By where we go and who we meet.
Marked by muddy boot prints of leisurely jaunts,
Straining climbs, and high adventure.
Where tongues wag in thoughtful reminiscence of sunny days and rainy nights,
Of puddles and delight;
Worn leather speaks of distance,
And the importance of taking things in stride.
Though less outspoken and often underfoot,
The sole is planted firmly in the heart of discovery.
Autumn Briarhart Mar 2016
Morning sky: confluence of grays.  
Arbitrary hearts: blithe and lambent.
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