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CeilingStar Jul 2018
I had a dream last night

a dream of thick golden honey
it glazed my mind
with smells of your earthy musk

it smelt like fresh rain on a hazy summers day
amongst the blood red roses, where the green grass grows
gentle breeze fanning wisps of floral tones under my nose

you were stood gingerly, your unmistakable figure
underneath an arch of winding creeping branches
shrouded gently by rays of refracted light, striking streaks
across your soft cheeks and broad shoulders

you stride over, and with a touch of my lips
you smile, holding a rose, clenched in your fist
the thorns drawing blood, almost as if you owed it to them
the red powdery petals speckled with dew
'dangerously beautiful' you mouth

you lean in, intoxicating as the sickly lazy feeling of summer
your hands slithering their way from my lips to my hips
we dance, like bees hovering graciously over daises
and we sway, slow, drifting and lulling me into content

I could feel the crisp grass between my toes
the poignantly earthy smell of the damp soil, and your homely
sweet musk permeating my foggy head
comforting and homely
detached

I just knew even in my dreaming
that I must have this moment with you
and the dewy rose that you gifted me
its stalk dripping with crisp red iron
the breeze and the trees

snapping awake, too cold bleak veil of reality
I've never yearned so badly
desperately trying to slip back into my syrupy imagination
but to no avail

It was just a dream
but one day
I vow we will find it

k.g.
take me away please
CeilingStar Jul 2018
Goodbye poetry is my favourite kind
The poets that feed you those delectable bites of glazey sickly love
To only have it drip through your outstretched arms
Leaving only a sticky sappy mess in its wake

Poets that use words that make you flinch
From wounds you hadn't known to have gored a hole in your heart
The kind of striking imagery that slices you like a chefs knife through an orange
The two halves swirling away from each other

I adore the way they hide behind their verbs and paragraphs and metaphors
Just like a child dodging kind strangers, clinging on to their mothers knees
And yet simultaneously, it's all exposed,
Naked figures intertwined in the bare legs of poetry
Filthy washing between the lines if you only know how to see it

Goodbye poetry is my favourite kind
It’s the only kind poets write about
Its juicier than the trickles of saccharine kisses in the golden rays of summer
It’s the rawest kind of poetry you will ever read, because when it's all over
When there is nobody to spend every beautifully blithe day with
That’s when the seconds turn sour
And we sit in the earthy soil and write
Our goodbye poetry

Poets only know how to make you cry

Goodbye

k.g.
I made up a word, try find it
CeilingStar Jul 2018
my world knows merely black and white

would you hold my hand if I asked you to
with nothing for you to earn
would you do me a favour
knowing you would receive nothing in return

my world knows not right and wrong
for that is dictated by society
putting words in our mouths as if they are stuffing a pig, so obscene
we sit lifeless, watching, we don't intervene

tell me is that right
would you watch as the world is set alight
our world
your world
my world

soon we can know only pain
there will be no right and wrong
no words will be spoken
there will be nothing to be gained

k.g.
sorry for all these poems, its just some i haven't posted yet as i haven't had time
CeilingStar Jul 2018
He maps out his explosive past

A rich colourful story

He flew among stars

Crashed in the dirt

Covering his eyes and blinding his sight

Sentiment covered by years of sediment

He can no longer see life

His vision and mind alike blurred and murky

He refuses to acknowledge

If he could recall the feeling

He'd know life is worth living

But I fear he's gone

Lost in the nights stars

Holding on tightly to all he's lost

He sits frozen to his chair

Unmoving and staring into another universe

The only thing he feels is

The bleak of nothing

Always present

Emanating cold fractals of sadness and despair

The weak feeling of better years blunted and dissipating as I write this

Poetry will preserve it

But he's lost in his past life

Irretrievably

Irreparably

Irreversibly

k.g.
  Jul 2018 CeilingStar
zebra
it was a dark dance
of an immovable body
as she was taken by the throat,
death, causing stupendous distortions
and entrancements of lunar landscapes
she reeled pirouettes between smothering
and seeing through a miraculous inner eye
deepening her sense of nothingness
as if pickled in a jar,  suspended in
formaldehyde
held buoyant
where there is no reason for anything
moveless in a veiled corridor
inhabiting innerness, a raven fog
her ******* wet with the scent of fear and ***
she fell through the earth
into the infernal arms of
Hades

his tremulous kisses
a thousand glittering eyes
she could see through
CeilingStar Jul 2018
15 March 2018
09:33 PM


In everything there appears to be a pure crystalline form

Chiseled, clear cut, categorised

Perfectly defined


We're one touch away from knowing everything and nothing all at once


Machines of habit

We're predictable, we're sequences and probabilities on a screen

Craving what we don't have and ignoring that we do

Seeing what's directly in sight and dismissing the depth

Imaging intangible possibilities yet living them through a screen


We know and don't care

We have arduously laboured over assembling a fortress in protection from fluctuation that we have unwittingly forged a cage

Lit by screens

Ruled by 'don't's

Deviation from living to halt death

Abruptly it did come, now slow does it wait

A blessing perhaps but for the dying, a curse


We uncover love so easily, so readily

and yet we lose touch of it so fast, despite our ever growing connections

We have knowledge

We have our memories to scroll through

We have lives to read about

We have inspiration upon every touch

We have it all a second away

Yet we spend our lives whiling away

In situ

Constantly buffering

k.g.
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