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13.8k · Mar 2015
Dawn King Mar 2015
i went to the marketplace
i and my girl child
who is me and i her
we were drawn
drawn in
there stand a medicine man
he taught the speak
and the spoken
that which is innate
that which was known
all intent is tone
7.2k · Apr 2015
Dawn King Apr 2015
it was on a hill of a clever neighborhood
the errant flow well guised beneath the clay
upon reach of the summit
she is all that can be held
her pull far too magnetic
her skin, akin to milk poured by Luna
her hair is the black of midnight
on the eve of the new moon
she sits facing inquiry with her injured one facing her
on a rounded copper colored chair
placed curbside
Sophia speaks then
a monotone misgiving
that pours out
as a sly pompous
2.9k · Apr 2015
Cabin Fever
Dawn King Apr 2015
You ease up unknowingly
while unaware I would be
offended by the careless
behavior prompted by the
urgency that has built up
from the condition while
pent up under the roof
of a haughty, predominant,
governess who wears a
grey locket about the neck
which contains a clean
substance never to be
touched by boyish hands.

I watch the wild in your
eyes brought on by
rigid over socialization
ingrained by a poorly
populated, secluded,
pseudo coalition.
2.0k · May 2015
Waste Management
Dawn King May 2015
Take this infestation
Lay it out upon the table
Must tidy the maggots
I walk away
Will not take care
That which has
Placed heavy on
Burdens; it is
Troubled dark soul
Hovered atop my
1.7k · May 2015
Dawn King May 2015
it operates like a revolving door
there are no hinges
but it extends from ceiling to floor
it is fashioned out of multiple parts
in various geometrical shapes
each with an intricate pencil etched
message that speak of the ways
to reexamine the perplexity
of what remains behind the walls
of your bedchamber calls that
became trapped in long
recondite walkways and halls
1.4k · Aug 2016
Hecate at the Crossroads
Dawn King Aug 2016
When you have met the point of intersection where doubt doesn't exist in the mind

And you have left evil eye and imprints of the dead at the center point

At the moment that the high self is just slightly altered and the total manifestation begins to trickle down into the autonomic functions of the ego

It begins an infantile form of self forgiveness that is void of nested spaces that house an association to the systematic map of words and actions that held trial and judgement

Somewhere in the particular dimension Hecate facilitated the depths of soul to be worn about the outer rims of the aura while fastened securely to the glow of high heart chakra

And the soul can depict the source form energy peering into its center with white eyes
This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
1.3k · May 2015
I'd like to love again
Dawn King May 2015
I’d like to love again
Days gone by in a
Conceptual state of mind
Realism my best friend
And worst enemy

I’d like to love again
Evenings pass by in a
Manic state of mind
Memories a close treasure
And haunting burden

I’d like to love again
Years pass by in a
Callous state of mind
Ethos my arduous procurement
And grossly arduous to sustain
1.3k · Nov 2014
Poetry In Motion
Dawn King Nov 2014
My thoughts of you are like poetry in motion
That fashion an endless bouquet of words
As if it were some type of request from the Divine
Each group of thought
Respective body of
Every moment brought on
By obsessive reflection
Or hopeful speculation
Embodiment of manic despair
Epitomizing this neural affair
Somewhere between the realms
Of dreams and constellations
Callus realizations
Curious ideations
My thoughts of you are like poetry in motion
1.3k · Jan 2015
Obsidian Palisades
Dawn King Jan 2015
Obligated attentions often wander
While mention of you has become obsolete
The natural order was but a paradox
As if malevolent incantations drawn behind obsidian palisades
Moil to counter the divine

Each sunrise on countless days past
Out near the eastbound pines, totem ravens cast out
Narrations from night time Goddesses
Visions of the prospective, ironically incongruous

The palisades must be breached

I have not the strength

Yesteryear’s unified heart
Now cavernous barren wastelands
That blow eternal drifts
Toward the obsidian palisades


Permeate the baneful fractures of the unintended
1.3k · Feb 2016
Meet me in Cheyenne
Dawn King Feb 2016
In September some years ago
I drove through Wyoming
Chasing the sun to California

I stopped over in Cheyenne
Breathing in her energies
The sign was 4 large crows

I had been there in oil painted
With one uniquely like me
While the messengers arose

And in the winter time letters
As awareness to the soul ID
Ascends to its peak

From one time traveler
To another I wrote,
“And one day we will meet in Cheyenne”
1.3k · May 2017
The Hoodoo
Dawn King May 2017
We crossed into Louisiana
Right about witching hour
The energy there
Invades the aura
Years of compacted sorrow
Combined with the
Old ways of root doctors
And esoteric power

You take the Hoodoo
To the crossroads

We're in the back roads
Of Monroe
They talk to you there
Ya know

I put my bare feet
To the swampy grasses
At the railroad tracks
Illuminated by the waxing moon

Hail Hecate!
We envoke thee
Commit this wax and ash
To the earth
Blessed be )0(
This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
1.3k · Mar 2015
wake up
Dawn King Mar 2015
i feel you
bound to you like no other
i carry you around
attempt to shed you

as you are problematic

yet i remain emphatic

i feel you
feel your dormant heart
sense your fear
rage and desire

i’m not here
to be cute
make warm and fuzzies
dote on a man
or make cherry pies

i can’t be kept
or wed or bought with a prize

i’m here to wake you up inside
1.2k · May 2015
Altruism devolution
Dawn King May 2015
Inhuman humans
Extraterrestrial bipedal
Extrasensory sensationalism
Salvation sensitivity
Helium halo hierarchy
Filtered fixated complex
Validated valor rejects
Calibrated gratitude
Servitude cyanide
Failing fortitude
1.2k · Jun 2015
Dawn King Jun 2015
it doesn’t matter enough
it matters but not enough to change it
it matters but not enough to admit it
it matters but it’s too difficult to change it
pride and shame stand in the way
fear stops change
nothing is done and the paralysis of denial takes over
the people you hurt forgive you and move on
they want you to do the same
1.2k · Jan 2015
Private Idaho
Dawn King Jan 2015
Existence an exclusive dragnet

In full production
Operational destruction

Within the dwelling

Mass reduction
Applied obstruction
Void of causation
Internal mutation
Alien nation
Self degradation

On the street

Non fluctuation
Auto narration
Nonessential validation
Superseded ideation

While dormant

Comatose automation
Surreal anesthetization
Feeble realization
Pending extermination

Attend the institution
1.1k · Mar 2017
And once I was a poet
Dawn King Mar 2017
And once I was a poet
Words poured out
Just as waterfalls do
Among the fauna and flora

And once I loved a man
Tears poured out
Just as scorned ones do
Among the lie and injury

And once I was a scholar
Dreams poured out
Just as the progressive do
Among the movers and shakers

And once I was a hussler
Schemes poured out
Just as survivors do
Among the users and takers

And once I was a nomad
Splendor poured out
Just as free souls do
Among the winds and gods

And once I was a poet
This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
1.0k · Apr 2015
Paper Cranes
Dawn King Apr 2015
It was dark in your house
It felt dark, and it was dark
You scuttled about everywhere
No one could hear
No one would wake
There is a common walkway
There is a light
It is dim yet lively like fireflies
You ease up to the light
Ever so wistfully
You stand with a confident posture
Once satisfied with the distance
A sedge of paper cranes
Fly out from the light
And dissolve into the night
1.0k · May 2016
Breathing Poetry
Dawn King May 2016
There are those seasons
Of the life
That a happening unfolds
When a poets table turns
The life in the living
An extended group of
Each one
A profound poetic moment
Shaped of divinity and vibration
1.0k · Jun 2016
Everyday Alchemy
Dawn King Jun 2016
I can see you
Standing down there
Like some kind of
Cryptic dream
The evening sun
Seems to arrive
With an ****** haze
As if the immediate
Called quarters & circle casted
I am but a mere
Remote viewer
Of an unseen assembly
And it all simultaneously
The elements coincide
In innumerable ways
Simply impossible
To perceive with the mind
999 · Mar 2015
Dawn King Mar 2015
walk with me
turn off your sorrow
let your bones roll away
don’t let your residue go astray
you will see them
when you get there
to the place
you left in despair
it’s dark and dusty
poorly lit
a wide case of stairs are there
do you remember it
a man in a camel colored linen suit awaits
he hands you a hand crafted wooden box
you open the box
it is velvet lined
it is full of needles
among the needles is a folded letter
you wrote it the day you left
you left in despair
it contains your answers but you already know
you ascend the burgundy stairs
to the place above
you stand suspended in nothingness
there is a corner of a window pane
through it the skies are blue
they call to you
for if and when
you ever decide
you’re ready for
the other side
995 · Mar 2015
days rundown
Dawn King Mar 2015
days rundown
implode inward
i’ve uttered my confessions
no absolution
it’s some kind of
dead society of 1
who is me if not you
where do i go
when i know
i am not seeking
i am being sought
shall i stand firmly
aside my chosen doctrine
when days rundown
implode inward
990 · May 2015
Dawn King May 2015
It was midday in late Spring
I walked out onto the land with a soul child
We met the others there and began the negotiations
A total of 4 progressed to the West corner
And stood as quarters on the forgotten soil
Spirit direct center as an arrow to the skies
The retrograde could not impede
Then, all was spoken without hesitation
976 · Dec 2015
Serpentine Tongues
Dawn King Dec 2015
When men are from mercury and not from mars
It means women are from unmentioned galaxy stars

When you give me your messages
In multitudes of melodies & Curious cacophony of cranial codes
Dare I decipher this disconcerted data
Massive mainframes of masked mental material
Hidden honeysuckle hints buried deep within
Lust covered lurking lexicons in libraries of linguistic whisper hints
Love innuendos in serpentine tongues
Like a brainwave barrage by day & Titanium telepathy attacks by night
You stop at nothing to remain in my sight

I never told you I was from unmentioned galaxy stars  
You’re a man from mercury and not from mars
This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
970 · Dec 2014
frost bite
Dawn King Dec 2014
The season has turned again
Are you warm at all
Do your intentions shiver
Could you run to far lands
Find your convictions
Comfortably swathed
Can you find enough fuel
Sustain the fire
Past afflictions
960 · Mar 2015
Dawn King Mar 2015
I walk into the prime RF wave
Where the space is thick with fraudulent motives
I see him there
Sorting out the wreckage that remains
He sits upon a white couch
Window dressed with precedent navy blue drapes
While his anguish takes egress
He greets me with open arms
And takes my hand to dance
He whispers to me as we sway
His message is quite clear
“The apocryphal is a high castle wall
The infallible fathers the fall”
955 · Mar 2015
emo-shun potion
Dawn King Mar 2015
baffled at ** hum
yawn snore boredom
what a conundrum
this viral life infarction
unnecessary creation
boring old pity party hum drum
cry me a river; don’t want none
get off your *** ***
enjoy the sun some
be a person
impaired some?
take your **** meds ***!
walk the woe is me to the dump slum
debbie downer 24 sev 365 clusterfucktion
sad lil’ emo infection
overdone depression queen incursion
misery loves company seduction
917 · Apr 2015
crumbled lullaby
Dawn King Apr 2015
on the evening
of the harvest moon
neurotic tensions
everything just
dreams as visions
come without sleep
and i fall deep
into a cesspool of
and the grisly truth
that accompanies
thankful that only
the coyotes may hear
the loud cries
of a broken woman
905 · Mar 2015
red rock bluffs
Dawn King Mar 2015
all kinds of odd sorts of stuffs
go on behind the red rock bluffs
agony resides in a small structure
way out in the valley
where it is rarely wandered
the dust and sand whirl around just so
that all the nymph minions
can move to and fro
in a seamless veil
safe from the pack hounds
that come and go
there is a translucent fata morgana
with cold as ice eyes
who hovers on hilltops
to remain in disguise
from an axiom seeker
exhorting reprise
873 · Oct 2014
Would You
Dawn King Oct 2014
Would you mind terribly
Would you think me so rude
If I asked you to save me today
Help me throw some baggage away

Would I lose my luster
Would you think me incredulous
If I broke down and cried
Told you of the pain inside

Would it be too much to know
Would it bother you to hear
About all of my damaged pieces
And paranoid fears

Would it ruin your day
Would it chase you away
To discover I’m riddled with
Heart scars and faded stars

Would you find me odd
Would you run away
If you knew I wanted
You to save me today
869 · Jun 2015
Dawn King Jun 2015
It’s beneath daydreams You have heard it
The faint sound of wind chimes Not belonging to a tangible source
You blindly own it  When your left thigh tingles
It’s the shape-shift powers

So please

Come down from your towers
It no longer makes sense An apparent pretense
Come down from your towers
Where the air whispers doubt Each time your heart shouts
Come down from your towers
Endemic eternal internal  The cyclic encounters
Come down from your towers

It’s the unknown driver That wakes you when
Her hand is waving as The waters’ abating

Like a still frame / Not knowing why  As you read through the lines

You belong In a parallel world
Where the sky’s painted  By a gentle sun
The rock is beveled and smooth  So that tumbled stones
Joined with dark cord  Can roll and move

The victim and the perpetrator  Hold interchangeable hands
Where you sleep  Where you keep  The spaces
Where the walk  Steps heavy  Voice distorts  Breath ready
Here you stay  Seized by false compartments
Buying into ulterior motives  That choke your flowers

So please

Come down from your towers
864 · Jan 2016
Dawn King Jan 2016
Out past the ghost borough
In the seat of the dunes

There stand a gate
Which I travel through
To hear of the old ways
From Gaia’s womb

There are others there
We remove our shoes
And dance on tree roots
As told by the runes

Here we come up on the full Wolf Moon
The spells I wove no longer loom
From the mid autumn journey
I took with you
854 · Feb 2015
Moment with Monet
Dawn King Feb 2015
I look at her mesmerized by the way he painted her
“Woman with a parasol” my favorite Monet
The way she haunts me upon examination of her stare
She is stunning in simplicity, white cloudy wisps
Placed delicately around her face and hair
She is at peace yet delicately aggravated
Her parasol so exquisitely placed
As if it were a shield against all that is wicked
She is so profoundly magnetic
I can remember the exact moment I first saw the painting
How long it took to break the grip of her gaze
In order to study the remainder of the piece
The field grasses painted to suggest a mild breeze
Her small boy standing aside her
But at the most finite spatial distance to
Leave the viewer in constant thought contemplation  
The twists and wrinkles in her dress that promote movement
Each nuance in concert with subtle direction
Back to her captivating esoteric stare
826 · May 2016
Dawn King May 2016
In the one thousandth
Subatomic cohesion
You walked close to me
Spoke softly
Opened the other realms door
Set the red dragonflies free
Fluttering wings
Brushing entities
Orphic embrace
Commixing like lace
The southbound breeze
794 · Apr 2015
iron horse
Dawn King Apr 2015
they were riders
on the iron horse
acting as though
it were a 30 minute
hitch to the next town
no one disembarked
there were no stops
some shared stories
some sat around
the man stood tall
dark wavy hair
tattered flannel shirt
words and symbols
as scars on chest and back
the woman was flattering
she had a musical laugh
vision fully impaired
yet grazed the mans skin
and read her epitaph
783 · Nov 2015
Dawn King Nov 2015
You are so intrinsically fascinated
with romancing the
idea of dancing with
your deepest desires
yet hover on the edges
of realities where
the immediate surroundings
provide chronic cessation of passion;
that you cannot fathom
a minute idea of how to forge
a plan.

Thus the interim loss
of fleeting moments that pass
like whispers giving
hints, hues, and clues
originating from the very
actions taken corresponding to
the growing organisms within
that fueled the
creation of rapture.
779 · May 2015
Go find your flowers
Dawn King May 2015
All of those things
That people said
That planted rotten seeds in your mind…
You know, the ones that grew
Tall like a mutant ****
The ones that
Choked out all of your flowers
There are many
But it is a lovely day
In an infant May
You can go to your shed
Get your shovel
Go to where your garden grows
Dig each one up by its roots



772 · Sep 2016
Dawn King Sep 2016

Whoever you are
Sitting in the dark shadow
Of the black widow
That hovers atop your

Second sight

I'll find you in the
Ego-less corners
Of the 3rd dimension
Department of duality

This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
760 · Apr 2015
Delphic Poetic
Dawn King Apr 2015
And it weaves, and breathes
you can’t see it
Capitulates and oscillates
you can’t control it
Floats as subdued whispers
you can’t mute it
Gently brushes, supple touches
it’s not textile
Fluctuating ever pulsating
it won’t be stilled
As a reticent billow
it cannot wither
Surging, swelling, never telling
the Delphic poetic
748 · Oct 2015
Exit Stage Left
Dawn King Oct 2015
ever stop to see
how the day can be
painted an estranged shade
like obscure fractal divisions
composed of lost pieces
of Akashic data
and somehow everything changes
because nothing ever changes
and how much astute piety can be retained
when the entirety has been scrutinized
will it put the demons to rest
or guilt to the test
as you pass through the veil
ever so frail
in the eyes of
the macrocosm
748 · Jun 2016
Dawn King Jun 2016

I listen
I watch
I analyze
I compare
I find pattern
I detect the ways
I take note of the days
I make calculated determinations


Game changing speculations
Ascertain the ramifications


Behavioral articulations
This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
747 · Jun 2015
Dawn King Jun 2015
It’s in the linear plane
The one that buzzes
Directly above the brow
It’s heavy and foul
Sludge like and slow
Dense with no flow
It is unappealing in color
With a dull toxic glow
It must be rid of
By placing an amulet
Made of Amethyst stone
Upon the glabella
For many days in a row
Until a duplex conduit
Is understood between
Cosmos and soul
740 · Jan 2016
Inner Phrenic
Dawn King Jan 2016
My poetry is a
Dangerous place to be
I’m so in love with
Your story
I forget all the fragments of me
So I read, and reread
The caverns of the mind
How the vile side winds
Captivating fixations
Tangle and bind
Ferment and remind of
The here and now
As the north winds howl
Futile hush muzzled
Omens from the
Incubus vagrant brow
That follows me
On down to
The mountain edge
The city street hedge
Clock tower ledge
My poetry is a
Dangerous place to be
This poem is an original work by Dawn King and my intellectual property. It must not be copied or used in any writings, publications, photos, or online platforms without my express permission.
739 · Mar 2015
Faith Mantra
Dawn King Mar 2015
In the back alley of a lost borough
A jet black wildcat adorned with silver and gems
Meets with a company of wolves

The aroma of chamomile and lavender
Lay heavy in the air

The north winds arrive
Questioning their summons
But remain in an army of dust devils

A shaman reveals himself

The group proceeds out into a ground cloud
Chanting archaic languages
To the banshee’s of dying beliefs
730 · Dec 2015
Dawn King Dec 2015
it’s the sensations
that are most satisfying
an almost painful pressurized dance
between throat and chest
the way the process is felt
in the finite muscles and glands
that take their own actions
about the mouth and
interplay between the desmosome & basal
layers just beneath the eyes
yet the single most intriguing
part of the process
is the temperature of the fluid
and how it caresses each topical segment
of derma on it’s own path to the earth
716 · Jun 2015
Barefaced Maneuvers
Dawn King Jun 2015
Can you tell me with no
hesitation in your voice
that my warped vision
of a romance is any more
or less than a thousand
stand ins for this
off the cuff production?

Or is it simply the
fear in your eyes that
speak in various
timbres of time lost
banking on a love that
was nothing more than
a third rate swindle;
Neither have a fraction
of the impact it takes
to win my obligations.
712 · Feb 2016
Soul Prints
Dawn King Feb 2016
It’s somewhere in the astral plane
The dwellers there don’t call it by name
The basin is dusty, desolate
Within it a carnival
Where many congregate
Light is dimming when I arrive
I feel an approach
Turn to look, as you appear
I’ve known you
From an earlier time
Yet never seen you
In this life
You’ve arrived there
To bind into my eyes
And take soul prints
Never breaking my stare
710 · Feb 2015
are you
Dawn King Feb 2015
tangled are you
tangled up in it
in it you fell, lost your footing
before you knew what was looming
and that you bought a ticket
straight to hell

tormented are you
like it was yesterday
in it you were, left standing
didn't know there was no landing
all alone on your own
profoundly obscure

twisted are you
twisted conflicted
in it you are, still afflicted
inter-wrought with captivity
another victim
of "The Bell Jar"

terrified are you
terrified solidified
in it you live, afraid to give
mortified paralyzed as horizons materialize
that shape-shift and betwixt
shattered emotive
Dawn King Dec 2015
Did you ensure
Your qualifications


A load bearing wall
Before attempting to lift


Injured bird
Off the ground
696 · Feb 2015
beginning at the end
Dawn King Feb 2015
where to begin
when the task is so mountainous
when all that can be seen is the unmovable
when the need to wretch comes as result of thought
when a heart may fail from silent screams turned inward
the beginning must begin
when there is no way out
when there is nothing left to give
when love seems an unrequited absurdity
when one more day will surely enable the morgue or sanitarium
the mountain is moved
679 · Nov 2015
Dawn King Nov 2015
And you will come into who you truly are;
Regardless of your conditioned past.
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