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 Jul 2018
Pauper of Prose
Light lengthens as you spin upon my thoughts
Blinding my darkness as you whirl like a top
As if the sun had settled on you
Scandalously running from the sky
“Doom” The phrase, raving men of the world scream in rants
The same phrase oozed from the sap of plants
And echoed as well from all animal's pitiful pants
For not a single ray stayed to shimmer
 Jul 2018
Aryeh
Did you know
you can dance
even when you're sad?

It may seem inappropriate
to shake your hips
while your heart is exploding
But I swear-
some of my best dances
I did with my heart in a sling
and my soul in a cast.

Draw an invisible circle on any surface,
turn up music that flies in the face of your sorrow
and give it up to the sky

The worst that will happen?
you'll break a sweat
The best?
try it for yourself
moonwalk through your despair
and get back to me.

Dance.
Even when you're sad.
wrote this back in 2016
 Jul 2018
trf
Does your darkness forecast shadows,
A high noon noose hangs from the gallows,
Feel the sharks circling shallow,
Swim fast, I'm bleeding.

Peripheral landscapes drape your gilded chatter,
Purple & pink horizons, summon laughter,
Your eyes blink lightning speed patterns,
My clouds follow, miles per hour.

What in this wide world changes,
Can we live high on mountainsides,
Open our door to the strangers,
Surrender to the ocean tides.


~My palette craves color,
     Your canvas seeks attention,
       My callused fingers are covered,
          When your callous words are mentioned.
 Jun 2018
Emmalee
Someone once told me
That I was beyond
What the night sky
Had to offer.

And like a silly young woman,
Not knowing how beautiful the stars are,
I believed them.

What a mistake that was.
The night sky was beyond what I was. Even just the stars alone.
 Jun 2018
sir humbug
the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous

luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves

when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised


and so the job,
our work,
begins
 Jun 2018
Ciel Noir
The vulture is a peaceful bird
She watches, circles patiently
Waiting for life to become death
So she can gather what she needs

The vulture does not maim or slay
And causes neither harm nor strife
She walks in the shadow of death
And so turns death back into life

— The End —