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 Aug 2017
Melissa S
The Sun spreads her words across a symphony
of color at the days end
Hoping her loving expression reaches the moon
and that it transcends

The moon slowly rises from the sea
Looking everywhere for his love is he
Calling across all time and space
Searching for his light and her beautiful face

The Sun lights up the big beautiful sky
He has witnessed this with his very own eyes
Her beautiful words are etched deep inside of me
Penetrating my core to the very existence she sees

Excited today is the day we will get our chance
We do not have to chase each other for that dance
We will dance all the way from the top of Mt Hood
To the bottom and beyond the Alabama Hardwood

We take each other to the depths of the unknown
Embracing what was meant to be together not alone
One brief moment he will trace my outline with his lips
Shadowing my body to make our very own Solar Eclipse
I wrote part of this poem back in 2012 then retouched a bit to mark the Eclipse happening today!!
I know in different languages the moon is female and the sun is male but this is my poem and I am doing it this way!! Thanks for reading :)
 Aug 2017
Pagan Paul
.
A grieving woman stands alone
by the grave of a friend departed.
In the relentless blistering cold
of a day that should never have started.

As tears roll down her ruddy cheeks
mourning the loss of a friend released,
the memories of her life are sad,
the pain has gone, the pain has ceased.

So all that's left for the grieving woman
are a grave and memories to recall.
As she turns to face the world once more
she sees a leaf from an Oak tree fall.


© Pagan Paul (2017)
.
 Aug 2017
wordvango
I have this place
no one knows about
between a field and a willow tree
along a pastures edge
a creek down around the corner
I go to when
things get oppressive
dark and hard
and I sit there
I don't know if I meditate
there in this place hidden
but I get peace
I see love I hug this earth
 Aug 2017
L B
I’ve seen genius so fixed on itself
as to be monkeys, squealing
wicked-itchy
watching a record whirl
in the same drugged circle
33 and a 1/3—circa 1969

This—their eternal brilliant conclusion
their e=mc2
This—their Final Solution
their inner-spring
Their convoluted complexity
as the hands of their clocks
fly off, striking me in the face

Alas!
—the equation that would solve
the mystery of whistling “Dixie”
that would feed the dogs
and “seize the day”!

This penetrated groove
This—track, eternally diminishing
toward a point on a label
at which two ***** intersect

and then...
...cease to be....
Drugs and is the Revolution really worth it?
 Aug 2017
Evelyn Rose
As we walk,
You tell me
that the silt from the river
has built up over the years
creating a new bank
with flowers
and plants
making the best of the rich soil.
As you speak,
I note the sound of your voice
and wish
I could sink in
and grow
like the foxgloves
in the mud.
 Aug 2017
Akira Chinen
He carved her bones out of the soft spots of time
and the fires of eternity
and cooled and smoothed them in the rivers
that ran down from the mountains
where the old gods were rumored
to have gone mad and fallen asleep
beyond the knowledge and prayers
of all things that breathed and lived
and loved and hoped

He started with the caves that would form the pools
in which her eyes would sleep
and dream and wonder
and then shaped her skull around them
leaving out no detail or necessity
making each curve and line as important as the last

With her head complete he moved to each bone
that would be her spine with the same delicate care for perfection
and from her spine he then formed her ribs
making sure to reinforce each one
yet leave them flexible as it would be their function
to protect her heart and give it room to bloom and grow

He formed a bone of intricate nature
in the center and front of her
for the ribs to attach themselves to
and placed two bones along her collar
and blades on the left and right of her back
from which her arms would sway and swing
and hold things close

and then moved down and began
to chisel out the hills and arcs of her hips
where her legs would hang and twirl and spin
and then chipped away at time and eternity
to fashion every tiny bone of her feet
on which she would walk and run
and leap and dance upon

With the rest of her bones complete
he began to tenderly shape
and cut and sculpt each bone in her hand
making sure they would be pliable and limber
with a touch of delicacy and strength
for with her hands she would weave
dreams and life and love

With the last of her fingertips carved
and cooled and smoothed
and pulled from the river
he laid her bones out carefully one by one
on a blanket that he had stolen
from the robes of death
from the time before gods and men
and stars and trees and language
the time that only spirits and animals
moved through the velvet indigo
of the night sky
and prowled the cosmos alone
to their own songs and laws

He pulled thread from light not yet born
and the black from shadows yet to be cast
and twisted them together
and slowly began to pull her bones into place
and braid and twine her flesh and skin
and hair and eyes
and as her body and shape were completed
he started to weave and sculpt
and form her heart
with the most urgent of care
and within he hid the secrets
of colors to be unseen
and an endless spool of fire
and silk and blood
and the importance of kindness
and compassion

With the last stitch pulled through
and tied and knotted and cut
he had worked himself down
to nothing more than a grain of sand
and dust and wind and he smiled
a tired and worn and complete smile

She was the envy and birth of beauty
and the jealousy and creation of desire
and the first of all dreams and things to come

With her flesh and her limbs and body
and heart complete and whole
and his worn out to near nothing
they made love without their lips touching
or kissing or sighing or moaning
or making any noise at all
and without their hands sliding
or gliding or holding
or their limbs twisting or tangling
or bending or contorting
they plunged through love
and fell into the river
and walked over the mountains
and tip toed past the sleeping gods
of old and forgotten lore
and danced and slept
in the fires of eternity
until she had dreamt of making him
and he had forgotten of making her
and both stories were true
and both only a dream
and some where in the distance of the past
where the time before once lived
and death and dream and love
once fought and lost and won
the wars and battles of long ago
something smiled and then vanished
 Aug 2017
zebra
Where's the ventriloquist
throwing voices around
like whistling stray dogs

the voice and the vision
a crystal *****
whispering
with mud in the mouth
the ***** doesn't lie
a yammering vantwilaquist
who's voice springs from a blood cream corridor
with electric lips and rainbow flesh

a lost beast dazzled in endless wander lust
in search of a scarlet women
surrounded only
by aspiring virgins
sworn to be true
by desolations caress
in black ash weddings
with white frilly dresses
weeping for delicate cruelties
they will never know

his father a falling star
his soul
an undulating cobalt shrine
to her
who he can not find

a catalog of discrepancies
a noxious experiment
with a wandering eye
lust ******
embattled between reason and passion

is that look your giving me
shorthand psychic humiliation
for my vile indiscretions I'm trembling to visit upon you
I'm wearing my face like window dressing
hiding the obscenity of my true will behind a curled lip
eyes down cast
hoping to use you like a vacant room
to smear the walls and floors
with your flesh like ******* glitter

too bad
i'm outnumbered by good people
there are sky-fulls of them
agitated with moral concerns
ruining my life with logic

those scoundrels
got pedigree
ideologies
religion
folded ears and moving lips
all monkeys see and monkeys do

who are they
and
were
is
their
ventriloquist
 Aug 2017
SøułSurvivør
smooth or rugged
strong or frail
fist or caressing
brown or pale

long of finger
open or clubbed
wrinkled parchment
child's chub

Mona Lisa
calm and coy
Captain Hook
girl or boy

remember how
his love attracts?
touching with
his finger backs?

hands with nails
lacquered red
tell him that
it's time for

bed

what could ever
be so grand?
as a tender

loving

HAND



SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/11/2017
Hands are beautiful.
I've always loved drawing them,
even though it's difficult.
I especially love the hands
of the elderly.
 Aug 2017
Lora Lee
sitting here but not
my insides
       in a twist
my organs blooming,
their flower landscapes
rising in my solar plexus
like poetry expanding
its cellular shapes
into
        light frequencies
I need way more.
I need the pulling off
      and stripping down
of souls
I need to meet in
a depth of falling
I need to be pushed off
the silent gates of madness
into endless sea
no looking back
senses piqued
from slightest brush
of oral butter pouring
on hot cream
my mouth, a searing
crimson wound
oscillates in
contraction radar pulses
ripe for intense
tongue exploration
         aching to be filled up with
your distinct flavor
My essence molecular is
overflowing with fluid
giving me life
in throbbing, raw
electric vibes
whipped organic, in
                 rolling tides
Somewhere, out there
                  our volcanic impulses
                          meet in steamy ebbs
                     and send energyflow
to a new and ancient universe,
magnetic
and I am
a raging heaven's child
      wrapped in
           a tight little
              tourniquet
     blood pumping
through these veins
             my longing for
                 dark stretches
   of intimate caresses
to soothe
  the spikes
      of snaking pain
Give me
those airwaves that
let me breathe freedom
into the fields of our skin
Let me run like wild herds
of the animal within

and as I find myself
hanging off
my
      own
  edges
my many-braided loops
         in zigzag split,
a-fray
my skin rips open,
parting fibers
that expose my
very
      DNA
helix swivel
     undulation
hips grinding into
                     soul
reaching in to
pull out
fresh rebirth
from between my folds
O help me to allay
this tender affliction
undo me, already
so I lose control
one little shove
and I am over the cliff
deep into ocean
**** over spliff
I am beyond ready
so grind it to the hilt
Give me your
tender-ripped heart,
spill your honeycomb milk

I am here, ravenous
in the pan
uncooked yet ripe
saliva and breath
steaming my own innards
flushing out strife
I am piquant hot pepper
ready to be broiled
my blood is already
                             boiling
my tender meat oiled
mull me over
in your oral cavity
like sacred wine
until I drip
through your bones
and down your spine
Just meld with me
                        and flow
into that light tunnel
of dark time and space
so I can stake out
my rhythms
and claim
      my
new
sacred
      place
Thank you, everyone, for all the love. Right back at you

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lG8l6JyQb0A
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