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 Apr 2017
ryn
.
+
       +         +

   +           ma-            
king d-
istress call-
          s in silent night      •     +
       +      kindling signals in   the          +
  dark•flames   casting  need-
ed light•requ-     esting aid, lo-
+          oud and stark         •embers red-            
den mad and          angry•glowi-
ng and thirst-        ing for more•
thrusting wood in this dem-
on's belly•fuelling large
its crackling roar•

imploring  passing
vessels     •to save      all that
   is dire            •see me          stripped
  of all                      mettle•                 as i pit
    my h-                           opes in                      this here



bonfire
 Apr 2017
phil roberts
Wreckage
Slow-motion blood
Aging carcass
Pain strewn
All well earned
No station missed
Time sodden gift
Rumour laden
Balancing the edge
Twisting the knife
Flashing backwards
Fun on the run
Stand and Fight
Following the way
Way of the wayward
Aimed at the graveyard
Hammered to hardness
Til nothing breaks
Nothing matters

                      By Phil Roberts
 Apr 2017
Onoma
What have we done to you?
We hung you up there, to
watch truth drain from you,
to justify why we drain it!
Our loss for words found
scriptural release.
You knew the time you were
out of, was no time at all--so
you couldn't help but love it.
No more a broken body in
question.
Even the flies that examined
your wounds shed their wings.
We made your bed, you slept
in full awareness--you heard
us seal your tomb, and grinned.
You got up, and went about
eternal life...remembering to
forget a shroud.
 Apr 2017
Sally A Bayan
(on a Black Saturday)


Sun beams touch the lustrous shells of
the capiz chime, dazzling the eyes and mind,
the walls on both sides of the big window are
newly painted, immaculately white, so bright,
....the pink blooms of the bougainvillea,
humbly bowed for almost two weeks now,
have turned to a faded brown.......wilting...

the strange nest had fallen, and gone
the young of the yellow green-breasted birds
have grown, flown away...all have found
............other trees to perch on

the sweet sop tree quivers
from its heavy fruits and birds on branches
enjoying their meal of fruits...ripe and juicy,
leaving some for the bats at night

a striped yellow cat rests on a shaded part
of the roof...i patiently wait for daddy long legs
to come out from the gutter...but in vain...
...paint still wet?...scent too strong, maybe?

maybe, the gravel and pebbles on the ground
weigh too much...did i unknowingly bury them?
i am missing the spectacle of an earthworm,
..........emerging from under the soil

big ants are restless...driven out...roaming,
the bricked wall's natural tan-beige shade
has surfaced...concrete wall is too hot...
these bricks, must be repainted white, as well

the ants, the spiders, the earthworms,
the bats, make their own preparations,
why can't we human beings do the same?
we prefer to suffer the consequences, and
deal with the results of unpreparedness:
el nino, earthquakes, unwanted people,
la nina, unexpected decisions, unwanted
changes...and all sorts of crazy "uns,"

townhouses have risen on my street
strange faces of new neighbors  
......pass me by...
......as i write...
the worst heat of summer is yet to come...



Sally


Copyright April 15, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(the day had just started...
these are Black Saturday morning reflections...
  my late mother had often said before,
  Black Saturdays take too long to end...i don't know why)
 Apr 2017
ryn
This feeling I can't describe...

It's jarring emptiness
though I'm bloated full.
It's like a puncture,
though there's no stake.
It's overwhelming heaviness,
though there's no load.
Like a scab that won't heal,
though there's no wound.
It's confusion...
though, my mind's a blank.
It's me reaching out,
though there's nothing to tell.

This feeling I can't describe...
A curse to which there are no words.
A burden that I foresee spilling
over several dawns.
 Apr 2017
Gidgette
I attend the funeral of hope,
weekly
Watch the birth of despair
daily
I think God has gone deaf,
atleast to
my cries
People look at possessions as
success
They aren't
They're stones tied to souls
making sure we all drown with the
Jones'
we all so long to keep up with
Oh yes,
those Jones' are falling to the
Depths of "stuff"
far faster than we Smiths
Good Lord
All day, Everyday,
I see and hear the "upper class"
whine
About the stupidest things
Its appocalypse if the Jones' buy
a BMW
while the neighbor only owns a Cadilac
Utter DEATH
I see these things and hear these silly conversations daily
"Oh did you see how fat Pam's *** looked in that Vera dress at yesterday's luncheon?"
"Yes! All that money spent on lypo! Haha!"
Disgusting ****
like sulfuric acid poured into my ears
And the road on the way to this Country Club and Gated Community called
Deerfield
Is lined with falling down trailers and houses without glass in the Windows
Clothes hung on ancient strings because the wearers can't afford a dryer
Or the electicity to run one
Children filthy and barefoot playing with
hand-me-down toys
in hay field yards
Still cleaner and more pure
than the
Filthy Rich
I wavered in my original intent with this one. I just got So angry today at work. These rich people in their multi-million dollar homes behind a coded gated community are complaining about the "eye sore" homes of these poor mountain people. Rather than help them, or try to see from both sides of the gate, They'd rather the city take the land and tear down these peoples homes. They would rather human beings be ******* homeless, than have to drive by any imperfect thing on their way to their 12 and 13 bedroom, lake front, mansions!! Seriously! They are actually petitioning for this devilish act. I spit at them! Better educate these people and give them a chance to do better. Knowledge is wealth and power. And knowledge should be given freely. The public schools here are awful. The children share books And the local high school only has three computers in the inadequate library. I won't deny being lucky. I went to a private school, as will my Stella. But know this, I donate frequently, And when I taught the dance, I taught more than one girl for free. I could rant about this all night but I have Easter baskets to fill. I love you all. Happy Easter<3
 Apr 2017
Gidgette
The enjoyment they gather, from each
Black feather,
Plucked
So carelessly
from my oiled wings
They smile as pieces of me are worn
upon the brows of faint hearted paper mache
Death,
I'm served daily
upon
Silver platters,
with a side of flame
No extra charge
They smile red,
Placing my feathers in
Mine own hair
They like that
Those demons I serve myself to
I'm at the country club working right now. Yay me.
 Apr 2017
欣快
and i feel myself breaking everytime i talk to you
wake up crying, go to sleep crying, mad at myself
for trying to believe im something to you or a factor
that influences your fleeting thoughts and actions during the day
are you sleeping on me? sky goes colossal over my head
and the sun exposes the long lost footprints trekking
to the wrong places i strayed to, and you can map them all out
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