Apr 2017 Mason
EJ Aghassi
Static still void slowly
Reveals through blurred
Lines and smeared paints

The figure of love or some-
Thing familiar enough. I sit
Suspended between two

Languages, indebted to
Different philosophies, and
At any given time I find

Teeth loosed from my mouth
As they are ripped out; sour
Taste of an omen ever

Present on my taste buds,
Ever scraping my knee
Caps as I fall to them

In some rapture, I bleed
My youth on dusk bathed
Blacktop of the school

Yard. I see towering womanly
Love, a monument to shake
Foundation, almost completely

Out of view, piercing overcast
Skies, yet not taking any
Clouds with it. I sit on ornate

Carpets of kebabs & half
Filled tea cups, stomach
Deep in some obscure

Fear of my desires. The dog
That loves me most of all
Is never allowed inside

The house. He sits valiantly
Outside, chained to a
Watermelon tree. Heavy

Heavy things all around me,
All things light and
Soft, even in sleep stasis

Feel ever as ever
Out of reach; beyond even
The scope of my dreams.
Some more rough experimentation with surrealism; trying to explore moments of my childhood as a dream.

See "Empire of Dreams" by Charles Simic.
 Mar 2017 Mason
Petal
A fragment of mist contained within a black and grey rainbow
Drop of acid rain
Scent of sulfur on a sunny day
The thorn that ****** the finger of the rose given Lady
A speechless recording
Out of tune song, sang by crows
Hair on a starving mans plate
A childs screaming nightmare, at the witching hour
Golden haired sinner amongst the feast of all saints
Me
~A
An oldie. I really hate my work. Blah
 Mar 2017 Mason
bulletcookie
this next month you will be dead
again, one year so far, far away
though still within this sanguine heart
you stare your love as always

your colored pencils drew an arrow
pierced a hole, one deepest yet
a life of colors formed its white tip
searing memories within its depth

recalled in fields where wild-roses sway
there catch past scent of once bouquet
cacoethes tears reside within these morrows
in dear reveal on deathless cheeks of sorrow

-cec
 Mar 2017 Mason
Ormond
Limbo
 Mar 2017 Mason
Ormond
.
Your eyes are always lost,
In empty places, your lips,
Are holding, your touch
Never does reach, unfolding,
And I am adrift in stalled dream
Unwashed by an indifferent
Sun, scarred black by a nil
Crescent moon, still jarring,
Calls through the night,
Of wretched creatures only
Punctuate the sorrows
Of my casted illusion,
With you, together, I
Have never felt so alone,
What stunted days we make
As the sun smokes ascended,
We stand in a doorway
Open to a bloodied heart,
Tendered, misbegotten.
 Mar 2017 Mason
Woody
I was slow
at knowing
that the times
we can bat
our eyelids
are not infinite
and I remember
quite well
the way that I felt
on the day
that my brother
passed on
there was a mirage
of sound
late one evening
when the blind
eye of the moon
welled up
as I laced my boots
with sinew
and walked through
the darkness
to let the stars shine
on the blade
of my knife that cut
deep along
my lifeline
and the blood
from my palms
read like
the Psalms
of comfort that could
not find its way
through the hay
of the high
pasture
on that long night
not so
very long ago.
 Mar 2017 Mason
SG Holter
You breathe, then I.

Every ***** in the pavement
Is a chasm dividing myself
From the loveless life I
Cherished.

Facebook relationship status
It's uncomplicated.
It still is, but the butterflies in
My stomach have

Butterflies in theirs, and I
Carry flowers like a grave
Hiding the remains of my
Plans to see the year through as

A single man.
You breathe, then I.
You touch my face, then I
Yours.

My hands hold your scents
For hours.
You breathe.
I breathe.

You sleep, then I.

Eyes like two suns I stare
Directly into without blinking.
A TV I sit too close to while
Watching myself fall and fall and

Fall.
I drop to the ground. Then you,
And my arms are jungles, my arms
Are oceans, my arms are a

Bed or a bouncing castle beneath
You.
We don't fall in love.
We fly.
 Mar 2017 Mason
bulletcookie
Type
 Mar 2017 Mason
bulletcookie
this morning started in Italic-
rivulets of soft rain rebelling
joining forces in a barrel
sounding an echoed chant

bold-print and sun bright be
when magic, through fingers, slips
and those fairy wings feel clipped
let go that pitter-patter of pity

Ariel, sans-serif, bound no more
a lion, lambent, unto its end's
into a flight of clouds and more
grasping as above, so amend

-cec
 Feb 2017 Mason
Kyle
I, Castle
 Feb 2017 Mason
Kyle
I am a fortress of solitude, Lord of the misty peak,
I grant sweet breeze, visitors of my lofty perch,
Terror to prisoners of my hollow crypt,
My troubled throne remains still,
Sought by the noble and tyrant in a struggle that never seems to quell,
But I am yours to command as you see fit,

A keep, yours to keep
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