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 Jun 2019 krm
Zia
To Be Read
 Jun 2019 krm
Zia
Of course I want to be read
She wrote that, I want it to be said
I’ve got so many stories in my head
Few I’m proud of, many I dread
I lie down at night in my bed
threading words worthy of a spread
Oh, by the way, my name is not Zed
 Jun 2019 krm
Unknown
My Teenage years;
Teenage years with people saying 'sit down and shut up'
Teenage years with no one caring
Teenage years with physical abuse
Teenage years with razor blades
Teenage years with no mother
Teenage years with bottles of pills
Teenage years with ****** assualt
Teenage years with suicide attempts
Teenage years with no reason to live
Teenage years spent pining for what was lost.



© Copyright Tyler Atherton
 Jun 2019 krm
pitch black god8
~

dark early pre-dawn

body suspended between the-dark ochre earth tones of night,
and the teal pealing notes of warning of an impending morning,
signs aborning, me rising with urgency of the leaden half deaden,
torn from the bed casket to venture into a different kind of twi-lights,
nature demanding both intake and outtake, a restoration of balance

but first a bumbling wobbling, the body as carnival bumper car,
installing soon-to-be-bruising for later examination-exhumation,
lurching from handhold crevices in the walls like crazy cliff climbers,
my balance disturbed, eyes try  tearing apart the sticky glue of night,
my sense of direction keeping me from free falling into green glass
edges of glass tables, barely, and not always, red cuts evidentiary

“my balance disturbed” words fresh formed, and a poem expulsion
required to balance the unjust scales of spirit soul and the body cage,
patch an negotiated agreement between warring cousins, just a
twenty four hour ceasefire to retrieve the wounded and the
corpses unfounded in the small copses of false shelter,
like my ancestors expelled from Spain, making escape to be
strangers in strange lands, or remain hidden in place neath disguises
of clothes of new poems, prayers for old and new gods

this new poem comes quick like a young man making first love,
for the poem has been written by thousands nights of practicing,
so ready for quick retrieving in a smattering of a few minutes,
expulsion expulsion
what a perfect verbiage to capture the night terrors, the differentials,
the procession path between what was and what will be,
when my balance restored and this poem’s completion installation
in the body of my work, as a nail disguised in the works of my body,
entering by command of the pitch black gods
5:29am April 24th
 Jun 2019 krm
Ann
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"Keep your eyes closed, love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do."

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
 Jun 2019 krm
I REALLY
my lips
 Jun 2019 krm
I REALLY
are sealed
they're sewn closed
they're super-glued shut
they're taped
they're fastened safely
they're stapled properly
 Jun 2019 krm
Micaela
it’s official—
i hate being alone.
this isn’t a poem
but
it’s words
i needed to say
my negative thoughts aren’t the best of company
 May 2019 krm
guy scutellaro
in blue sky
the hawks circle
the bird feeder

the ghost of
a young adolf rules...

the dog that's
been caged
growls
walks in circles
(the wires to the cage
sit in Washington) and

as the cage opens...

smiling
say i
prancing in a circle

one hand waving free
"don't tread on me"
an American revolutionary war phrase, "Don't Tread ON ME," positioned below the rattlesnake is a warning that reflects the basic principle of individual FREEDOM!
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