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Feb 2017 · 716
Phantom Itch
Corset Feb 2017
Phantom Itch
A Poem by Corset

Right there...
...and... not...

I've got that itch again,
the one
that Amputees
know so well...

He always loved the color of my eyes
after tears,

you would laugh at me and still
court the silence

process the cold
without me.

Sing off key
without fear...

brave the holidays
but still remember
you were once a part of me

Phantom Limb
that was loved.

A soul ache of compassion
the severed branch
the occupied
Feb 2017 · 976
All Roads lead to Salvatore
Corset Feb 2017
All Roads lead to Salvatore
A Poem by Corset

On the way to Salvatore
I was cracked
A diamond with her head down
pops another piece of gum
makes light of the crest
makes the sign of the cross
across her window pane breast
forever more
Gooseberry products only
she swears
the scratch of her voice
a sonnet of fingernails
on chalkboard
"there are no teachers here "
says she
only nightmares of agriculture"
and the slow lonely climb,
limbs bowing to the knees.
acquiesce of leaves
holding on in vertigo
skinny dipping the night air.

Bertram tells you to ram it
his balcony tilted
like a slot machine
a glimpse of clothes drying
on a Taiwan breeze
ran into a tree
"don't be afraid"  says he
"it won't feel a thing"

You keep your voice down
still it drowns the radio
while fashion jewelry
lift their pointed legs
it's pepper on a dying mans steak
we dare to be sub-standard
people are shouting
we will do our best
to make sure promises are not kept,
to honor the test subjects
we will build a barn
threaten the faculty
with time honored contingency
and look forward to the *****
side of fact.

We shall take our time,
scoffing behind our hands
we know
if a person can not be themselves
they tend to be someone else...
surely there must be a way to
pin this tail on the donkey,
or at least the blunt
blonde official, when you
get a close up
you can tell how old
she is.
Dec 2016 · 536
She follows, she follows...
Corset Dec 2016
She follows, she follows...
A Poem by Corset

It's Christmas again
 we try to try
and we confess to
a kind of madness

we gather
the smell of your skin
dangling like lost stars
while millions mass
entitled to our sick days

Tree top swing
eyelids sweating in white pulse
'cause you do not understand
intimacy until you have
shaved your wife in the
wilderness of cowboys
and the dust settled dawn

hoof and mane remain the same

I try to remember the sound
of your laughter,
I can only recall mine,
it is meant to be
only a few moments ago
Christmas Eve like a thirsty
rabbit went into his hole
drank him deep asleep
into the floor

our working class demons
can't look at each other
without a pick axe and
all I can think is

"I hope you got tailgate"
and she follows, and she follows
the one,
that my brothers and sisters
call "the missing" dream.
Nov 2016 · 432
Corset Nov 2016
You can not be a window
Eden dreamt Bara bara
eleven years of December

Spirit wedded bliss
soul promised
a name
love light divine
the elephants never cry

(not like they used to)

not into king sized kisses
not into water buildings
and I am past
my grid

show her the pain
of a dead whistle

pure veined pride

Where does your soul
go when you are sleeping
why be afraid to
close your eyes?

I wanted to be your hero
raised arms outstretched
dashing across fields of daisies

I wanted you to bed
the person I imagined
you to be,
a heartsease river
of soliloquy.
Nov 2016 · 387
Soap Box "B"
Corset Nov 2016
Soap Box "B"
A Poem by Corset

Be brave or stupid
Be hetrosexual, or not
Be Married.
Be a woman, Be a Man
Be what you want.
Be any beautiful shade you are
Be of sound temperament
Be loved by the same faces
that loved you yesterday
Be together.
Be brave, Be young and
Be passionate about politics
Be your country
Be democracy
Be on T.V.
Be a selfie
Be destructive
Be rebellious
Be arrested.
Be on the pill or iud
Be responsible or
Be pregnant
Be proud of your choices.

Be Haiti reconstructed
Be the billions with
nothing to show for it.
Be the tin house you live in.
Be the private bank
Be the education it builds
Be the proof of education.
Be corrupt, Be rich
Be a woman bent for president
Be his wife
Be hacked
Be downloaded
Be incredulous
Be hopeful
Be ridiculous
Be Crass
Be honest
Be charismatic
Be belligerent sober
Be incumbent.
Be remembered
Be relieved
Be backed up with Pence
Be pleasantly suprised
Be concilitory
Be loyal
Be humbled by enormity
Be a drama queen
Be insulted
Be a star
Be a model
Be a first lady
Be the love that tr(i)ump(hs)
over hate
Be a good loser
Be all the American
you can be...
be politically correct
Be legalized
Be ******
Be familiar with the first admendment
Be a reporter
Be citizen Kane

Be an American
Be diverse
Be accepting
Be welcome
Be of any ethniticity,
race, creed, religion or
of ****** orient

But first you have to be
a citizen,

© 2016 Corset
with liberty and justice for all
Oct 2016 · 616
Tomb Raider
Corset Oct 2016
Tomb Raider
A Poem by Corset

..."and if he's got a tomb
you should go in"
"But you can't knock..."
"on the door;
the door's wide open"

A singing budget cut.
B Movie,
cheap thrills

"I'm going to FXXK
with her"...
"you are going to die"...

..."why do you say things like that"
"you know I heard you just now"
..."Oh sorry"



Mid-way house...

(she turns over and flips her hair
away from her neck.)

..."you said no..."

..."I was afraid"...

..."only half way there"...

..."there are circumstances"

"to over come"...

..."like this knife"
Oct 2016 · 783
Corset Oct 2016
There were trim grains in the wood
that framed the streaming light
from a window early bright
which bent with a firm bristle
forms from a sweet morn.

Strokes of a strong hand,
"he's painting"
I said to the pillow.

to none, was I explaining
but he was there,
with his Modigliani oils
laying his soul bare.

Medium streaming thumb
in the mouth of palette
in cool colored thoughts
of blue-eyed mysticism,
Avocado hues and the many,
warmed robes of Saratoga.
Oct 2016 · 609
Corset Oct 2016
A Poem by Corset


Push me in,

be as  tall.

No one out there
is going to sing
pro bono.

Slow down
look at where
it's at.

One is fast
and more dangerous

ask her...

Turns out a mixed nut in the right cup.

Clean out the closet,
polish all those pretty bones
bleach them white
as a faded memory
who gnaws
the edges,

but never lay down
your pen.
Oct 2016 · 810
Corset Oct 2016
Palm Kiss,
my spooky little ***** house
at Halloween,
you are amazing.

I am aware of that...
and, and, and
I'll be thinking of you...

at the moment,
I can't.

That's a waste of time.

Our finest words
hit her bathroom sink,
I know you can't see
the afternoon right now...

not with the Hinterland gleaming
a mustard seed *****
with stems of bushy brown
all aglow where
the sun slants into
heaven's gate.

Love has a selective memory
murmuring an opuscule
when the sky slides into
broken- beaded chain
playing in the dripping
golden pediment
blushing red feathered veins
into the autumn leaf.

I will be thinking of you...
though at the moment...

That's such a precious waste of time.
Oct 2016 · 708
Corset Oct 2016
A Poem by Corset

How could anyone mistake her for a Pitt Bull?
Those soft jowls and square headed wrinkles
Sweet Mana-T,
we are the Walrus Koo Koo ka choo...

Pops with his skin on fire,
a real hair -hell-raiser

we didn't buy that white castle

no moats, no boats

no tight sunned mailman at the door
pony tailed to his ***.


I'm old,
... not dead.

makes the Buddha smile
it does...

She went and got herself all
God polished, cartooned
very High and very mighty,
it's the only way to hang
Sometimes overcome with joy,

he is writing somewhere,
like a lovers bite to the breast

black and blue

like hickies


it makes him happy.
in return,
it makes me happy

...and weird **** just keeps

we should talk.

No, Now I live on top of a garden,
a virtual Gnomes paradise,
the owner of this garden
is a wrinkly Lady Gaga-Gnome
centuries old
thumping up to my door at three A.M.
duct taping the bad news to the dark
of my vacuum-less door.

"You, ma'am- are breaking the rules"

She; who thinks the homeowners
association should KNOW
about my extremely "timid
hide under the bed at the
slightest movement"

This sable mini Shar pei-looking

Pitt Bull-

steel jawed Staffordshire Bull Terrier
trembling at the reflection of
her ferocious self.

Newsflash: This just in...daughter... terror stricken...out shopping for handgun.
Sep 2016 · 298
Once Green
Corset Sep 2016
Once green
Once green
A Poem by Corset

Maybe I should write from here
from the last,
Once green of life,
autumn colors fading...

from the drift of dandelion;
the first successful
pucker of a whistle;
how those two images
where embedded together
from beginnings...

in black Patent leather
how my feet looked white frilled
endings blade trimmed green,
how Rainbows look in March dew.

How the baby beds in Sunshine Lodge
in 1968 resemble cages
locked down in the dark.

How beautiful my mothers
mahogany locks look against
silky coffin beige.

Maybe I should write from here
from the last,
Once green of life.
Aug 2016 · 540
Nun Perfect
Corset Aug 2016
Nun Perfect

Tell me how you do that,
teach me how you go to sleep
in one city and wake up half way
across the continent with less money
in the safe than the local corner parishioner
in a 1963 black and white miracle movie.

When my mother was murdered,
I was among the “Lilies of the Field”.

I swore I would never fall in love
with a drifter who would leave and
break your heart, disappoint you,
with his Solomon meander in the only
way Sidney Poitier could ever do after
erecting a church with the strong arms
of a Acer nigrum, silently in the night.

But to the Nun(s) he was perfect
without a waving goodbye,
or long drawn out farewells...

he wasn't much for tears either.

If you are worried about the dog,
she's gone where all old good dogs go
to meet their predecessors in the
sweet soup of the creator's mind.

I was so sorry to hear, while I slept
in the back seat of an old Ion mind,
with my little piggy tail still curled
and snoring at my feet, you know,
she slept in a furnace all day,
all that heat can pack a girl up.

Home and crossing boundaries.

So every Cowboy hat ever born
under a starry sky with a cigar
dangling from his lip would hear
me whoop under the Lone star,
he's close, but none's perfect.

She's pretty **** close to broken
yarns of roads and *** holes of beautiful,
to pride's sore, red eyes.

© 2014 Corset
Jul 2016 · 426
Feast Of Summer Moons
Corset Jul 2016
Feast Of Summer Moons
A Poem by Eve aka Corset

Tonight and all over the earth,
there is merriment.
Cocky birds will dance
at  maske and vest.,
and many times at best
I have dreamt of this
in sadness
still to awake with laughter
within my breast.
and yet
beyond these lids
and lashes,
the world is
still our oyster,
whether it be hailed
by sighing violins
or paired by
charmed footsteps.

Madame Butterfly;
my cupid kills in arrows
and so grieves her;
her Puccini,
should love speak
beyond a reasonable
torment of expectation.

Let her feast then
beneath the moons
soft with light and
with souls as bright
as sunlight, brilliant
upon the water
bound not
by counterfeits of passion,
having railed
so long at love,
that it does seem to
have become a habit.

Whisper again
to a ****** night,
that dreams with
eyes wide open,
sailing to a song within.

Love is ancient and ageless and
hearts will remain young
for which men and women
will hunger,
amour sweet amour
is a  feast
and fit
for summer moons.
Jul 2016 · 508
Corset Jul 2016
Oh, Be A Be why
last night we were trying
to keep it...
do it together,
getting tea lights
stuck in the dishwasher.
I will be right back,
with ink... U bate her
old Cronie could barely
keep her eyes
oh, be A be why?
Jul 2016 · 369
Tumescent Red
Corset Jul 2016
Tumescent Red
A Poem by Eve
Aka Corset

I waited for you...
longing for you to say
what you wanted
was too empty
and beneath me.

Your silk of summer
madness drowned
in my liquid smile.

I knelt in your malady,
fractured thought...
Slept in your shade
with pride,
cool stability
by your parched finesse.

******* reformist tongue.

On conquered hips
my vanquished lips
tumescent red,
pulsing ...
your crush of mastery
till they bled
with my own desire.

© 2007 Somerista, Eve, Corset
Jul 2016 · 581
Three By Sea
Corset Jul 2016
Three By Sea

Shall we wax as moon flower
in distant array,
swayed by first light of day
shall we retire by nightly beam
it's blue-white ray pathed
by cobblestone glistening?

Shall we skim naked as treetops
alive in the drift of whey
the woe of worlds surrendered
to the torrid heat of day
if the night is cool carressing?

Shall we blush in wistful velleity,
billowing voice as coarse drawn sail
our tragic beauty her blacken veil
should Dawn draw her curtain to
earthen edge?

Shall we pledge constant to Cresent
the lively heart of we three stars,
to grace his cheek in shivering war
all our brothers, lovers, sons?

Shall we all be inspired horizons,
a shimmering star in selenotropism
blooming wildly grateful in the dark
to spread the heavens,
to light the sea?
Jul 2016 · 368
Mama said
Corset Jul 2016
Mama said
A Poem by Corset

Mama always said...
"You  (understood)
must always allow a man
his small victories
he will prey
on your weakness
love ( understood)
for him
like a black piranha."
the moment your soft
warm toes
touch the still water.
Jun 2016 · 1.1k
Corset Jun 2016
Red gold stroking strings
of Terra-cotta tocsin,
bounced a check today
and we wonder
will she rot in her cups?
How might we drink
all these donuts...
as a finger stirs the air,
her drum roll eyes...
time became tree limbs
of propaganda.


Cloud kissed
by hills
hemmed in
by patchwork stone,
a providence in Perugia
her cobalt dreams
strum gypsy wings
yellow fringed faces
follow the sun,
an itinerant balloon
tints the grass fucshia
then drifts away
to kiss the sky.
Apr 2016 · 536
Black Hole
Corset Apr 2016
Yesterday will not hold us
Out beyond the starlit night
Under the dark dress of eclipse
We will see so many new things
Its churning maw pulls at us yet,
Licking its lovely lips
Longing for its blackbearded
Ever and anon
Remember this
Even as we hurl ever closer
Men will be born again
Even though the years
May crawl
Beyond the memory of me or you
Earth shall be consumed
Rivers will run the sky
Eden will burn as promised
Death will be a welcome release
Time will be devoured
Houses shall quake
Ramparts will fall then float
Our eyes will not see origin nor pain
Ufology will be made of us
Grand designs will be grafted in gold
Heaven will laugh at our feet
Outrageous it will claim us all
Uteri and tears
The membrane of existential life
Abstinence of unimportant
Letchers and angels alike
Light will be dark,
The darkness shall be light
Immaterial will be substance
Material will be no more
Every thought will be as body
Placating the will of man
Apple and seed no longer
Calling in false voices
Implicitly with demand
All that we are
Nestled once again
Orphaned by humanity
In the atmosphere
With the children of our *****
Infinite and everlasting
Long forgotten the red earth
Languishing in her blue dress when
Finally, she points her taunt breast
In to the maw of the black mouth
Not even mountains will withstand
Drowning in this black abyss
Young Biota,
Ours is not of lifetimes
Under the cherry moon
Even as the clouds we know rumble
Valentine notes into the wind
Even as his harpoon tongue
Nimbly nibbles our innocent mind
Death will not hold us
Earthen molds will not
Attain us,
The word will not sway us
Heaven bound passengers
Will behold the golden galaxy
In due time of passage
Light as light will travel
Long into the black vein of
Nothing more than thoughtless
Orbs of creation
Through and beyond time
Hanging it's weary head
On the lips of love
Life defined as desire
Dripping it's ***** robe
Unashamed, it will
Sneer into the mob and
Can not be held captive
As animals in a cage
Painting the wall of caves
Time is man made
It does not exist in the
Veins of the everlasting
Eternal word...Love
Apr 2016 · 1.2k
Corset Apr 2016
We expect our Mothers
to be kind
and it is not always so,

We expect our Fathers to be wise
how often do we err?

We expect of our families
patience and rarely we wait,

We expect our friends eternal
and lovers faithful
how we so disappoint...
the humans we love that travel
the same path slightly ahead
or behind..,

Knowledge is wise and only
compassion can free us,
only love that is true
knows the perfection of patience,
and only Experiential knows the
way of eternal  change,
and only in this way
may we become the image
of our expectant God(s).
Mar 2016 · 671
Corset Mar 2016
As daylight dreams reach
for dark
under a K-light sky
so must the
world return requited,
new ,
no one knew but me and you
I will not beg of thee in XYZ
chromosomal hormonal after-tonal

A giant jelly fish ate "To Wong foo with love"
a bit of it's electric lightening flash turned
my skin to glass,
molted down Queen cream
in crock-odor-ium,
it may be a word, it may not,
it maybe your Marshland smile.

I'm going to emerge orthodontia
in crystalline wings and when I do
I hope it won't blind you
like your heart
like your heart forgot
how to pronounce my name and
sunlight forgot to wash the sand
into bleached wood
a drift
from where I cry away
from that small dark part of me
that resembles photosynthesis
in green or gold memories

..of i'll never leave you
even when my tongue has become
a pin cushion for all the things
That get stuck to it
in the dark shifting of
under garments and sleepless
every things
that crawl the endless length of me
as a nightly ritual
of sacred dance.
Mar 2016 · 430
Overheated Stars
Corset Mar 2016
She's a mystery
our little vase.
just sitting out there
in the cosmos
all alone
with her hour glass
figure. It's time
to wake up and don
the 'morrow...
oh, such a powerful

       new dress!

Einstein visits my bathroom
walls spouting bright ideas
about (ILL)uminati nation,
and it's coffee drinking

I'm sorry sir, but I don't subscribe,
I sleep very well, thank you.

I've lost half a front tooth to winter
already,  tripped over laundry
baskets and almost broke my neck doing
the limbo...and the makers of Beano can't
keep enough stocked on the shelf,
oh no,
not I.

It's crazy how clumsy
i'm becoming of late.
tumbling into shell,
little green pistachios
tender meat
fledgling tuition's
not this sweet thing,
I'm not buying what you
ladies and gents want to sell,
I'll keep my wings,
my hearts and flowers,
no disrespect,
Thank you just the same.
I was never into Halloween
or the things that bump
into the night, or cackle
like mad hens in my half wake.

I prefer love, not the half light,
not the lime stand where Mr. Todd and I
have had quite the conversation yesterday,
who does he think he's fooling?

Ill advised, I might say, to play with
such things, such as the sweetness of
the naive flock, let's just say I've
been properly introduced
and my eyes are open,
and leave it there
on the ***** step
with the musical instruments
and the rainbows, I prefer
to be colorless like the page.

No trade darlings, nice try,
but I love you...
and anytime you'd like
to take a ride into the outfield
and watch the ballgame,
from the sidelines of a
couple of overheated stars,
remember, beautiful rays am I,
in which you may trust,
an accidental supernova,
see how the star's tracks
are blinking, winking, and
tapping out love letters
in Morris code...all for you
baby, all for you,
I intend to blow this pop stand
walk off  into the fog, whole,
in love, with or without you.
Mar 2016 · 452
Corset Mar 2016
A quiet light
slips across the stage
pencil drawings
flipped formed into
anorexic glass
stick figure thin
stacked mimes
only the barking
dogs and whales
could hear it explode
into sonar boom.

My life,
has become a debut
of silent animation
I'm the first of Emile Cohl's
funny faces,
my heart,
a voice whispered
death threat
a French caricaturist
largely forgotten
love contortionist
of the retina
rapid eye movement
complex shifting sand dollars
and rabid flower images,
they never forget a pretty face.
Sword-fighting fish mouths
gaped like cannons
dancing petals wind borne
milk carton illusions
memories drum
tight like elephants
stuffed into houses
artistic movement
curdling my eyes by hydropathy
baths of incoherent apathy
falling between my brows
like Chinese water torture.

Pictures that are missing you,
that were always missing me
and me, missing the music
of laughter, that love
that turned numb
the earth thumbed green.
Mar 2016 · 487
Coup Stick
Corset Mar 2016
Coup Stick
A Poem by Corset

When I was a small child
I would often try to walk
silently like the warriors
it never failed that a twig
would snap beneath my feet
but I am a grown woman now.

Here, where the earth and blade
are dry, the wind spirit
can hear my footsteps,
this is not a good place
to hunt the wind and I
am not afraid to die.

Privacy fences block my view
of the white tipped mountain,
tumbleweeds whisper the names
of the fallen
and there are no buffalo
to fall beside the iron horse,
and the only tracks to follow
belong to the old railroad.

The brave will ride the red path
his pouch tied to the mane
of his pony, his whistle plays
the shrill of the great hunt
a vengeance to collect in scalp,
spirit claws sewn onto
his chest, blessed,
he is dressed for death.

It is a good day to die.

Paint us like the white
spotted leopard so that
the arrows fly in reverse.

Fierce in verse
like Crazy Horse;
who took the evil man's
thirst and with it,
Cut Custer in two,
I will not be halved.

Listen now, as I sing the
song of drums
no longer a twin of mine
as to the number whispered
into the dream.

I'll not be controlled.

On the green grass,
one can move silently
and be as mighty as
a pack of wolves,
I am as unconcerned
as a November cub,
yowling at the moon.

Sticks and stones,
words can not harm us.

I will not be silenced.

Choose the path wisely,
walk softly, carry a
big feathered coup,
for a war of dishonor.

The darkness can not effect
a sacred blaze, but daylight
can most certainly invade
the greedy, hungry night.
Mar 2016 · 409
Dream Catcher
Corset Mar 2016
Dream Catcher

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Did I imagine you?
where dreams of you
flood the eyes
of a winter incarnate,

only the figment of bliss
borne of buffalo magic,

lead me to this
song of the feathers.

I did not seek it out

instead it lay me beside
a steady stream
fed by the ****** howl
of ancestors.

We are the calling of ghosts
embraced in the pouring
of seasons.

Heart of the mighty bear,
kisses of white doves
where the wild mustangs
run to greet the horizon,
pine knot,
whine not,
braid inside my hair
your lair is a
dream catcher;
catch me...

i'm falling,
wind blown

in the silence
of drums

am I to walk alone?
Mar 2016 · 420
Corset Mar 2016
A Poem by Corset

...and if you could see
how those blooms
hang their heads
after making the move
into empty open spaces

Their bright faces pungently
stretching 'or Mesas
yearning for one
not so tight in after life.

If we could touch the soil
to keep it moist
fears would feed like rain,
crying edible
and they would never die.

Limbs would not crumble
but climb ever high
their backs of bark
carved into
hearts and letters.

Resplendent and warm
the night would know
her poetry.
Feb 2016 · 450
Corset Feb 2016
A Poem by Corset

...with half the heart locket
hanging empty
'round and 'round we go
we said maybe its a lesson
in futility
or maybe it helps us grow.

He says it's hard to be a hero
if it smacks of manipulation,
and all the stacks against it
was a back up in prostration
just convenience counting gears
*** smothered in validation,
well, the years might just prove
to have only been denied pride
but we all have to wonder why
we can't just fly to the other side.

Maybe we can't buy our wings
or strip them of the smell
maybe it hurts too much
like sacrifice or hell,
with half heart locket
'round and 'round we go
we said maybe its a lesson
in futility
or maybe it helps us grow.

well whatever makes you happy
or helps you to make escape,
these arms only reach so far
wrapped 'round all  those mistakes.
Jan 2016 · 1.2k
Sensum Accordion
Corset Jan 2016
She stands in the doorway
of his mind
blocking access
he can not wait;

not for psychology
to lock itself out,

He wants to find things
like the tooth paste
in her mouth,
goals maybe
sensum, hope
maybe some humility,
or match books
or destiny involved,
opening gates
of engagement
seeing frames that
come up
from peoples minds
streaming from the
paranormal den
doin' it, getting
in their face.

But he didn't,
cut her off
did he?
Not the way you wanted
not the way
a garbage disposal
grinds to wake you up
in the mornings
with responsibility
every minute
A destination,
A demand...

One blink
into the next,
a continuance,
every ache
a breakable cord,
tired but tethered
to her accordion heart.
Jan 2016 · 1.5k
Sister Blackbird
Corset Jan 2016
It was harrowing,
the way the darkness
crept into her cage
the sudden change
in demeanor
no longer
a will to share,
the teeth marks
she left behind
in the calves
of leg
the loss of mind,
fragment and bones,
the very fabric
of home lay
torn and bleeding,
her red ribbon muzzle
tear stained in

It was harrowing,
the madness
pulling apart
at the seam of
and then
she disappeared,
as if she never began,
and all that
is left of her,
are her
blackbird eyes.
Jan 2016 · 2.7k
Ancient Selene Cardinal
Corset Jan 2016
O' Helios'
Back arched in regal Blue,
bows into pillar puffed petrichor
Amethyst warred in the underbelly,
verdant memories of waning night
swore legendary red,
o're musk of organdy
blushed brightly pink
an awakening sky.

Daffodils and dandelions
lean into the chariots wind...
sans the sounds of summer's sweet,
eulogies weep over Endymion's eyes.

Cardinal night, closes his door
morning will sing a yawn
in symphony...
and into
the grey goose dawn,
fifty more daughters
are born.
Dec 2015 · 422
Corset Dec 2015
Once upon a time
he accused me
of finding him marketable,
but I swear,
if I had twelve of him
I'd still keep a dozen.

One for each month of
the year, so when one
wore out
I'd cycle that clout
every other moon.
Dec 2015 · 447
The Mural
Corset Dec 2015
I stare into the shadows
and remember
the Panhandle dust
that made them,
fuzzy now,
around the edges.

The mural that somehow
felt sacred on fire
the tumbleweeds in your
eyes as they rolled to
look into the distance.

How the lightening
struck your hair and
left it white overnight,
and the way you clawed
to find the door to

I remember the trip home,
how the early spring wind
howled through the empty
windows, the necklace
around my neck
the cherry red
ball of vines
awaiting my return,
as if to say
yes, he was here,
but now he is gone...
and gone is what he is,
will always be,
but here,
here is a bite of me
to always remember
those tears that echoed
in silence.
Dec 2015 · 409
She's not me.
Corset Dec 2015
Layers of steamy pick ups,
rejoined a staggering crowd
behind the bar,
(who put that thought there?)
I partitioned that wall
for me to bump into,
as if it weren't there
just moments ago.

A shifting maze,
my mind,
it's labyrinth
ever changing,
scratching the interior
of my scull,
fingernails on chalk board
grind stone
against stone,
making my teeth
until I,
I pull them one by one,
like red angry children
lined up for you.

I offer them to you,
without their fleshly clothes,
roots showing as a forest
of ivory trees,
wearing true colors
on bare bleached sleeve.
Dec 2015 · 1.3k
Ode to a Hen
Corset Dec 2015
Ode to a Hen
A Prose by Corset

Just yesterday I contemplated
never to pick up a pen again,
then I realized,
In a different reality
I could be a hen,
and I began imagining life
as a chicken.

A huge **** would wake me
long before the frost burned off,
climb on my back
pull out my neck feathers
make me birth a football
every **** day,
only to have cold human hands
steal it away while it's warming,
frying up my unborn child
and having it for breakfast.

Inevitably, a fox will show up
during the dead of night and
steal my clucking sisters,
but never
the **** bird that wakes me
before the sun rise; and I
having no sleep at all;
will birth another football.

now, I feel better,

don't you?
Nov 2015 · 421
Corset Nov 2015
Jets whistling overhead
Cats caterwauling
such a lonely sound
wheels cornering
like life tucked
behind a delicate ear.

Trent Shelton self help
videos slowly
crawl up the wall

Christmas coming in a dark
heavy laden with second sight
with seasonal child,
Oatmeal and toast
many meals under a dollar.

Her father,
a journey song
in mellow gold morning
storm gray eyes
flecked with flaws.

There would have
been more but,
wishing wells and cupped palms
fill faster with rain.
Oct 2015 · 457
The Cause
Corset Oct 2015
Last Eve was full of dreams
visions of butterfly's
in green and white
fluttering as a leaf
and I was mesmerized
by it's ability to camouflage
as it danced before my eyes
and even as it frolicked,
a larger blue and black
Monarch settled upon it's back
and the leaf was consumed.

As the Monarch,
equal in it's beauty
took it's place to dance
and hover,
before my eyes came
a great and mighty
snake it's mouth open
pink and red was it's
throat, as it consumed
the dancing Monarch.

I was frightened by it's
size and so I closed my eyes
became very still, I could feel
it's warm breath upon my hands;
but it found me of no threat
and so slid away;

I opened my eyes and peered
out of the open window
and there upon the dirt road
leading to the place where I stood
were many wild animals
of many kinds as if marching
to Noah's Ark.

I raised my camera to document
this incredible event
then went to warn the others
I showed them  the documentation
but they seemed unconcerned,
so I glanced at the picture
and there upon the road,
not animals but joggers,
a marathon on the move
running for a cause.

That is when I realized
we are all just wild
animals in the cycle of life
just running , mating, consuming
without a cause to believe in.
Oct 2015 · 888
Shoemaker's levy
Corset Oct 2015
How could the mountains
the ground beneath them

or the clouds deny
the sky

we bear this mark
this Galactic conception
and yet
we become fictional

a small etch
of understanding

nonexistent sketch
in the dredge pituitary

a one
dimensional edge
we watch like
a picture

and it's fiery

shooting it's
burning flames into
the black womb
soon to die
or birth a moon,

the candle is the soul
it is intent
that keeps it lit,

it is our lack of
that pulls it apart

Roche's limit
to string pearls
around heavenly
charisma reaches
to embrace
a burning,
and I see fire.
Oct 2015 · 352
When the world falls
Corset Oct 2015
I close my eyes and you are all that I see

even when open
on occasion  the outline
of U
is a holographic letter
a word imprint hallucination  of you
present and on my peripheral
at the corners of my eyes in 3 -D
and on my lips,
you linger
where you never were before
my world fell down and I found you
fetal by my side.
Oct 2015 · 1.8k
The Waxing Moon
Corset Oct 2015
The Moon

We are the waxen crescent feast of star shine
the poetic moon groom,
the romantic echo of sun
while it murmurs in swishing tide of peaceful sleep
each half of the heart drawn by the moonlit *****
strolling the Titanic proportionate
a two headed bobbing horizon lost at sea
could you dream of me in dune songs
whispering tomorrow dawning in summer sonnets
could you think of me possibly
when ever you gaze up at a waxing Moon.
Oct 2015 · 330
Of Bedlam and Prayers
Corset Oct 2015
Of Bedlam and Prayers

The heart Is love in Bedlam
soft soled like a man singing
a word of  yahaak-ku
standing so close  that his
shoulders almost touch me
in prayer,
claims to be my love's clone.

But my love lies inside a hill
in the song of the Whip-poor-will
where my blood *** is running
in streams of ***** desire, and
never tires of singing.

River banks and fevered coffers
liquid gold and frozen sun
pumping in soft blue veins,
my blood is red as love it came
shining on spills of disarray.

A kiss away, only a kiss away
all those dark corners
of yours and mine gone.

In the long drawn space of his tomb,
in time, he asked for my death
pink in fragrant flox to cover
a good wide earth.

On my flowered knees I wept
cheek to the straining blade
pressed an ear to hear,
holding my breath,
for his faint breath to cycle
into a heartbeat of spring.
Oct 2015 · 673
The Last Thunderstorm
Corset Oct 2015
The last thunderstorm ends
with a kiss,
eyes close on smiles
remembering you like this...
like some small raw
epidemic of love
planting seeds in the aftertaste
of ecstasy,
forming thoughts as mountains
make mist,
condenses the rest of this world
to shadows in the fog,
like a morning wish
of no regret.
Oct 2015 · 525
My eyes
Corset Oct 2015
My eyes

are the shade of awkward
the shy smile of summer silence

that billow and snap with the wind
and flap like the white of open sails

across a hopeless depth of winter sea,
the color of nautical moss

Waves pretend they love me with bold
demonstration to drive a worn wedge

between a rock and a hard place
where my eyes shone in the sway

of compass depths in coral greens,
colorless, without the caress of sun.
Oct 2015 · 694
Migration as a Swallow
Corset Oct 2015
Migration as a Swallow

We are one at soliped
of love and bend,
  of low and sliver
In roar of distance,
knuckle lock existence
tears of a small proud child
a woman into womb
torn to open wound
remembering his eyes
his laugh, his soft song
longing of never land
to swollen hot earth
  to the dry of my eyes
birds flying young
to make a Swallow
branch here
in the old songs
of the south.
Oct 2015 · 1.0k
Protasis of a Pen Sword
Corset Oct 2015
He wants his honey in lace
and combat boots.

A hip so smooth it burns like
whiskey going down,

and dreams that spell
like perfume
when he lights her cigarette
and dives into never-land.

she wants a fair fight
a fighting chance.

This is an equal opportunity
my space,
Coxbones and ashes.
Oct 2015 · 409
Never Play With Your Food
Corset Oct 2015
Never Play With Your Food

This Poem is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

Fire hoops are for circus dogs
and astral planes are fueled by
groovy Astro-knots

come here

I have an unreachable itch
and I need you to scratch it


until it stops bleeding.

Nine and 1/2 weeks
looks like Hans Christian Anderson

in drag

where a heart still calls 911
off a bathroom wall

for a good time,

where death

wears tassels
and paisley,

and I scream your name
in quinolyl fairy tales.
Sep 2015 · 507
Birth in Rainbows
Corset Sep 2015
Birth in Rainbows

Birthing rings, these things
The things in eclipse behind
heavens doors, we never
spoke of rainbows...

not mine, not my tears
and bent light, not of
refraction or bouncing

Gypsy clover my lover's bed
is unmade by sorrow,
we'll sleep on it, and dream
of 'morrow beyond the shards
of prism and rain.
Sep 2015 · 642
Corset Sep 2015

At first glance there was such
sorrow entombed in the sun,
honey hued in mahogany
red velvet Terra eyes
the sun rose with them
a soft whisper in my mind,
my heart and soul flies
shimmering of surprise
in waves of sweetness,
it ebbs and flows ever still,
rise and fall,
ever gloaming,
moving like the gentle earth,
restless and milling
it's throngs and streams
a tender abrade
a gentle lapping
the world becomes a wonder
becomes leaf and petal
lattice sunshine blooms
dripping in happy tears,
after the summer rain
disappears humming
drumming it's distant
rooftop tattoo.
Sep 2015 · 421
Endless Dawn
Corset Sep 2015
There is a soft meadow golden
where there now stands oblivion
wild mustangs comb the hard
dry grasses after a long arid winter.

In the distance, wood smoke
from a silent fire that crackles
'neath a hungry touch.

An aubade's warm hand reaches
from the silky horizon to touch love
gently upon her shoulders and roam
the hills, and dusky valleys of the
paradisiac dawn, as it stretches each stone.

...and soothed; by palpebral stream;
each bend a lover's nape
endlessly explored by endless wait
to greet the welcome rise again.
Sep 2015 · 329
Promises of April
Corset Sep 2015
I've never proclaimed be an Angel
wearing the weighted wings
of the innocent sacrifice.

I've never claimed to be Diablo,
though pitch forks and red
are certainly my best colors.

I don't remember exclaiming truths
or swallowing serums, or vows of full
disclosure, especially the ones
I don't want to hear.

I proclaim love with a beggars sign
in the middle of the April desert
but someone chopped it down.

now, I proclaim noise,
turbulent, breathless
surrender to the voice
of the quiet night.

I remember promises of April.
Sep 2015 · 1.0k
Corset Sep 2015
A cry assails my window
a child has a broken heart,
life is harsh and she's afraid,
mother said a harsh word
she fell down, the world
too big, too cruel
she wails,
drops her bottle,
she wails
stumps her toe,
she wails
her favorite doll ruined,
she wails,
palms bruised and scratched
she wails
and no one hesitates.

Father walks too far ahead
she teeters to stand,
her wails carried on the wind
no one picks her up,
she must learn to endure
life's obstacles,
she gains footing and
stands , bursts forward
on wobbling legs,
Father turns and smiles
waits to dust her off,
takes her hand,
and the world begins
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