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Laurence Worsham Nov 2018
Sound the horns before the crash of the drums,
Reign forever the promise,
only as long as does not perturbe the ageless splendor of it's denial.
The angry man is vain in his resentment of luxury as he toils,
and so he proceeds in vain of his resentment.
The happy man is foolish in his love of life, forgotten to that horrible heaping part of himself,
sprawled with constricting joints and bleeding that blood,
Pay he luck not to remember.
Always eager was accepted by the Earth.

Always downward impress the power and cascading mountains of the horizon.
Ever so that the dwindling height impresses the speck at the edge of it's microscopic lense.
From what pestle were ground these grains of what the body shivers to behold?
From what tree was made sacrifice and ripped the shreds of this beautiful scenery?
From what point does the needle steer it's compass,
Pulsates the ebb of the magma of power.

The excretions of raw turmoil brews,
Below the vats of anamorphic hell was raised,
And up was risen low on high and behold that it was seen.
The slumber had encroached upon itself,
Flitting it's tail at the flies and leftovers of the night.
The spoils of day at hand make clear the path of the arm.
I am stretched about it's expanse and yearn the pangs of inward loss.
The melting hot aftermath boils my blood dark and red,
I am ready to sanctify these old bones with new fire.
I lurch my eyes upon the stocks and bundles,
I am in love.

Flesh loathes the indulgence of the mind,
masked in the light by its submission.
I have made acquaintance with the tonic of breath upon the bellows of breast,
I met the waves that mirror this and thine.
Well met are they, and I said that it was good!
To the heavens which impress me impress myself!
Know my mind you manifold of high towers!
Know me that lightning had stricken the chapels of your Kingdom, my name in blazing stars.
Know my name to the inextricable folds of your searching rebuttal.
And behold my pride,
erected there with bricks I would bet against mountains.
Was my blood so bold to creep back whence it came?
If not so, then was made slave to my own boldness.
So there it was,
and so wept the Earth for a thousand years.

Tears falter to the sun, and my cheek is dry.
You know me, but what are you hiding?
Amongst the flags of nations the sweat of day unfurled,
There in the depths must be hidden.
Feed me or be refused the exhilaration of my tongue.
Set loose the fruit into my view,
I will do the rest.
Having filled my bucket of what belongs to me, harken to my plea for more,
To the adoption of my whimsy,
flicking fast the worm of yesterday.
I had worms in my thin stomach.
Aside it, the froth of snails had savored,
molding the lowest of all my opinion.
Better is the least of my gripes,
entrust me this day or all days hence I will mock you.
The threat twas modest now cast into hard metal for the shackles of a generation of tender feet.
What had inspired now falters,
I can weep no more.
rachel  Dec 2017
echo chamber
rachel Dec 2017
a lifetime of gestation;
of making myself,
of bringing myself
back from you,
of trying to get over someone I was
only ever under.

bend me, shape me
whichever way you’d like me
for I could be the apple of your eye if only you’d
let me;
- kiss me to
      pulp

you turned me inside out,
naked,
viscerally
      exposed -
heart beating tenderly not upon my sleeve but
atop my inverted chest;
I asked you to cradle it,
care
      swat me like a fly;
      a throwaway affair.

saying you care about ‘this’,
but not me, I think

      lacklustre lover lacking the
      love in the
      - making

and above all, I keep thinking about how unrequited love
is the sweetest kind of self-inflicted wound.
something that never was shouldn’t be so much,
      oh but it hurts just right.

I’m forever pulling cells,
bits of myself apart to
examine, deconstruct.
cytoplasmic, holding it all together,

I'm just looking at your scars, you said.
      would you like to add another?

suture me then pick me apart
- I’d let you.
It's not your fault you didn't
know, don't
know how I feel, not really;
I don't want you to run
better to have a piece of you than
      none.

we only do this to ourselves,
I don't blame you.

this mouth tastes like an ashtray
I'm sorry,
it’s just that a lot of sweet nothings have died and
burnt away in here before they could be said.

everything changes yet it all stays the same
we know how this story goes,
so please don't tell me I'm
beautiful from all angles
because I can’t take it. I can’t.

rising for him, a flowerbed for the spring
blush as pink, which,
bleeding into the edge of the skyline at sunset,
anamorphic, consumes.

      [HE LOVES ME HE LOVES ME NOT
      HE LOVES ME HE LOVES ME NOT]

my heart is so heavy
with the ways in which I love you
quickening,
the birth of something new -
or maybe I just have a penchant for self-destruction.

and on getting out alive:
we’re all here,
doctoring our hearts,
recovering from the cataclysm of it all.
Rist  Nov 2021
Anamorphic
Rist Nov 2021
It start's at the center
Make you never forget us.
See my ears like antenna.
Make it hot for the winter.
Knock Knock on the window.
Top notch on the fender.
Drop top I'm in limbo.
One time for the pencil.
Sensors going mental.
They're just pretenders.
Like a symbol walking on cinders
Simba going nuts while the mane go wind-mill
Top ten for the ten years I'm ice cold feel the wind chill.
I'm in here // other rappers like skim milk, they couldn't run the game from a treadmill.
Cloey Olson  Nov 2014
Fissures
Cloey Olson Nov 2014
I felt the tiniest fissure
Softly tapping and picking away at the lining of my heart

Scrape gently
Peel back the crevices of the holey slow-motion reel
It flickers to life
With a deliberate intensity
Candles burn brightest in the bleakest torrent of distortion
And you, love
Laying with you
Is a field of sunflowers
In the desolate, anamorphic wilds  

Breezes tickle the strands of grass
And my hair spins in a pirouette
With the leaves against my skin
You’re dazzling; burning
And gently knocking
At the entrance of my estranged heart with the kindness that brings waterfalls from my tired eyes
This moment
This
I choose this
I choose you
Every day
Over the monotonous pangs
Of broken fallacies
We’ll lay in a cloud of divinity
and wipe each other’s
Beautiful cracks away
With the gentlest whispers
Of rapture.
Haddie Brenner Apr 2021
Black and white tomb.
Anamorphic face.
Indistinct frame.
Abandoned my womb.
Quit without a trace.
Leaving me in shame
Lee Lafferty  Sep 2017
Untitled
Lee Lafferty Sep 2017
I'm so busy facing my own fears,pain, angst and regret that I forget about the world..
how the masses feel... how they do?
If we are all truely in  this together... where the s the tether? This anamorphic tie that binds...the knot of cosmic uncertainty.. we can overcome ... we can be moved.. we shal prevale
United in a common need for community , family and general peace... we stand..and when we fall , we will fall together.
I lost my mother a few weeks ago... it was a tuff relationship filled with tongue biting yet endless loving hugs. She gave in to her daemons when I choose to slay mine. But her loss still cuts deep.  It's got me reflecting on the state of the world, and where I stand. I choose to hide no longer behind the binds of social norms and embarrassment. I choose to fix me for the betterment of myself and those o love. I know this strand is a little willfull... but maybe.... maybe be we can start a change. Something that will awaken the "Everyman" in society ... live the phrase "be the change you want to be "and stop hiding our light under a barrel . ... we only have a moment to make our mark.. why not today?

— The End —