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Carla Michelle  Jun 2015
Carla Michelle Jun 2015
White dreams cascading
down my spine, down my
trembling thighs
with thoughts of slumber
close to you,
I must have been swept away
by this crystallizing sugar.

Heavy eyes, fluttering open
like an aloof spring day,
I have had my fair taste of
******* for the day,
yet it tastes rather like
infidelity and prayer.

Bitter to admit, yes,
this ******* has overthrown
my gut.
I have witnessed the curves of
it's chest and wrapped it's
spinal cord around my neck.

Platonic it may have ended,
yet my *******,
began with such a sweet taste.
aetherx May 2014
you're a melancholic blue rock
who's oblivious to what you're parallel of

just a slight erosion I noticed,
as I picked up
the little crumbles
the gem stones
the tears

crystallizing under crushing pressure;
I know it's aching,
some time to tether
you're (spontaneously) combusting
but you're still as dainty as a feather

don't have to look at your reflection,
just your shadows
then you'll see you're illuminating
and now you know
you're more than enough
you were just
a diamond in the rough.
[to all who are crumbling]
Penne  Feb 2019
Penne Feb 2019
A dictionary of words
Little marks to describe a vast world
Lest not care of lacking logic
Aroused by imagination is my magic
Lemon zests the cornucopia of citrus
Are not they a splash of kalopsa?
Charisma, karma, euphoria?
Not allowed to bleed in blanc
Wail in rosy franc
Puddles of messed reflection
Fictions wonder reaction
Wander in the wildest wilderness
Describe the autumn, fall
Moist, solitary
Fawn on the lawn
Reality is the contrary
Refuge in the creamed sugar
Like a cup of iced kiss
Deep burrowed in the mapled hiss
Wait for its marmalade bliss
Head exploding in fireworks
Magnificent, what about nightfall?
Showers and streaks befall
Stars shoot smoke of ball
Cry tears of meteorites
Sprinkle the blinking sprites
Flow streams of sparkling silence
Swim the chasing glares
Enchant me in your chemise, evangelic skin
Leitmotif of mimes' maim, mean?
Speculate the pixelled fairies
Hide in the fruits of Alice
Spark at the dance of hands
Paint the faint trees
Baskets of floating sheep
Bounce in the enigmatic realm
Drooling in
As they transgress the egress
In chiffon blush flushed
Bittersweet caress
Bare grasslands with strangers
Wet the glory shine
Morning then hoots for sleep
Shush, weeping willows
Flowers of your scent hover the grove
Voices sweetly surrender
Linger for tender
Gloam or roam
River of innocence soul
Reaping the afterglow
Aglow my fountained lockes
Blur for it to be clearer
Illusions of ambiguity
As its lips meet the prism
Of brilliant optimism
Breathtaking fauvism
Breathless onism
Succumb in the limitless reverie
Rare of not having aneurysm
Persephone's persepolis
Blood of perenelia
Where Opheus court Eurydice
Winter solace holies
Lakes of beating lights
Bloom irregularly
As the sesquipedalian crawl out from its vine
In the Brobdingnagian it creeps
Line between sublime and wine
Harmony weave in palette
Rhythm rose from my red
Fresh breeze hush the roulette
Leaves blade the crafted well-made
Dusk, dawn to diiferentiate
Eclipse the hysteria and the impeccable
Love waltz
Glide the glistened clarity
Perfume lilies
Stares of lavenders
Rain the clouds of keys
Crystallizing and fractalizing
Mesmerize, astonish, aghast!
Rise your mile
Fragile my rile
Bridge this moonlit immeasurable, fantasia distance
Repertoire of piano choir
Luxury in the polychrome noir
Royal in the loyal wintermelon
Poppies color the spring
Butterflies fly in the effervescence
My painting sings a summer fling
Jump in the pantones
Rest your all
Stones amble swish scone
Wishes twinkle then hone
Will-o-wisps chill your bone
Lend me a wing
Let not be done in a ding
What I fear, free from the fringes of meek
My, this lexicon is not enough!
How to occupy the million, jillion, eternal galaxies
Shout in the rave
Echoing in the waves
Marvel at the bejewelled revel
Image my imagery
Oh, dive away child!
Let us drive in the garden of glaze
Careful not to be too amazed in the maze
In the hummed woodglade
As the critters flutter and flute
No way to chain me out of this loop
Pool of pretty astonishments
Diamonds of nature
Endure, not inure
Words alone are insufficient
These are just mere fantasies
Some are unexplainable
Some needs to be felt
Some needs to be seen
Not just read
Not just dreamt
I may sound dubious
But this is incredulous
Just a random collection of pretty words º-º
One of us will never see,
        True light by essence of purity,
        Ever once more
The contamination of one of us,
Has taken, has blinded
The original vision.
        One of us has let it spread,
        To the other, filling dread,
        Infecting and destroying purity,
       Crystallizing something important
       That wasn't to be forgotten
                        Preserving righteousness
                        Through Arrogance
                I must curse you.
                I must thank you.
Thoughts from my mind at sixteen years old.
Kennedy Taylor Dec 2014
A          feeling          of         claustrophobia         has        begun         to         confine         me.

This swamp of ideas thickens inside me,  the murky clay mud making each step twice as demanding as the last. The once clear flowing waters of my dreams seem to be crystallizing, clouding and freezing over, ceasing the stream of my escape. My brain is callusing over incarcerating me, forcing me to experience the hardening of my own being. A reaction inside halting my imagination and depriving me of the ability to call out for help. These thoughts and words I evacuate onto this page only act as a catalyst speeding the process of my inevitable silence. There will come a time when the swamps have solidified, and the waters of my dreams become frozen clouded crystals trapped in place. My brain will develop into a callous, rendering my mind mute, I can feel this metamorphosis materializing yet there is nothing I can do to stop it, the development has already begun, all I can do is wait until a feeling of...

A          feeling          of         claustrophobia         has        begun         to         confine         me.
Tilly Sep 2012
Salt   water
mixed   with fire
from my core   ,this molten
center; Where   viscosity erupts into
the cavernous third   chamber, sufussive.
Hands. Feel across the   valleyed surface, touching
the unhealed; A perfectly   clean circle sitting upon solar plexus;
Cupid’s sharpest hit. Unseen.    The fissure runs deep into a chamber
nestling betwixt red pulsing atrium.    Only I sense the tremors here.No beats sing
out in this vast ethereal emptiness. Silent.        Vaulted edifices shining bright with colourful
minerals. Molten. Lovers leaving stains upon          the walls, as pure deposits cool. Crystallizing
in the aftermath of each eruption, my volcanic            heartrock shines like a diamond in the rough.
Inspired by BBC2 Volcano Live ~  þríhnúkagígur, Iceland ~
Flesh scaling mossy rock,
trepidatious toes clamber on.
Seraphic sunlight beating down on naked back.
Approaching the edge of all fears.

Standing on the pinnacle.
Surrounded by the best friends in  the world.
all there is to do is let go forever.
brace the fall, elongate with majesty.

Rhythmic heart, beating on all cylinders.
Di Dum: Fear
Di Dum: Anxiety
Di Dum: Stress

End of celestial descent.
Arrival in ecstasy.
Piercing icy blue water,
rinsing away all woes.

Circles of smiles,
and unprecedented unity.
In nothingness,
therein lies the foundation of all things.

Euphonious drum of waterfall.
harmonious chimes of birdsong.
Velvet blanket of heart warmth.
Soul soothing of clear water.

Utopian infinities crystallizing.
Dream't like folklore and now realized.  
Naked as born with no things and everything.
Tight clothed and old with many things and nothing.
This is based on a dream i had, that was really the greatest dream that i can recall.

I don't think that i can quite articulate the beauty that i felt, so i may need to try again.

I've tied that in with a lot of themes about simply being human and how it's in the true human aspects of love one can find most happiness.

What with all the constant superficial media and consuming technology, it becomes very easy to forget; people are meant to be loved and things are meant to be used. Yet things are being loved and the people being used.

I think this adheres to a lot of the stress and anxieties that we face in our current times, and this is why i really wanted to reinforce that taking that leap and letting go, can release some of that. When you are truly in the moment, your fears are gone.

Daniel Allinson
Wanderer  May 2012
Wanderer May 2012
I do not feel myself today
Stolen stunned sparkle sunned
Crystallizing adrenaline ***** hypertension maniac
Overwhelming in here. Crowded.
Always willing to be the first to jump
Potent love affairs with rushing wind and endless heights
Break apart.
Come undone.
Let go.
More surreal than tangible
Fading softly into the mist of kilauea
Great fire mother blessing me with the burning
Ablaze, a Phoenix from the flames, rising into the night
Bursting all over the constellations, adhering to the cosmos
Third eye open
Zeyea Jul 2018
The first time I bloomed
was under the threadbare covers
on my silk mattress.

It was odd.
I mean, the utter controversy
of the two cloths clashed teeth to bone,
gums to tendons.
Made by the same mother,
abandoned by both.
(I guess in some way they were meant to be)

I grew out of childish fantasies
years ago, shredding it
like satin snakeskin,
but I can't help but wonder
if lukewarm serendipity
and blushing luck
were controlled by not a higher power
but our own heartstrings.

It would be an interesting sight,
to see braided desaturated yarn
entwined in our limbs like a tangled puppet.
Does that mean we are controlled?
Or perhaps the "control"
we see is merely an illusion,
easy to rip through like tissue paper.

I remember that my body burned.
From ever-growing light coiled around
split ends and twisting fingertips.
The light was skintight,
another layer of my skin.
My bones unfurled,
eyes glowing like fairy lights,
weeds creeping out of the fringes of my chest cavity.
Hands turned into bouquets of lilies,
pedals waving farewell,
why, I could not say, but it's metaphorical.
Kissing the wounded parts of my soul,
I grew bundles of baby's breath and chrysanthemums.

The second time,
while my hair grew into flames
and the hinges of my heart
oxidized into green,
my mother found out.
What she thought was a childish misunderstanding
grew into a maze of prejudice and disgust.

I knew, my mother never liked it, from the start.
Perhaps she was stuck,
in the past,
in the mindset,
in the fear,
in the normality,
and this,
this was not normal.

She sneered at me and my father
shook his head in disappointment.

Twang in my chest,
I tried to atone for my sin,
but I stopped halfway
because I realized even if I tried,
the growth would only speed and this time
the flowers would be blackened and dead.

The third, I tried to stop it.
I couldn't survive another heartbreak
so I folded it away,
into twos and threes
until the creases refused to crease
and rice paper cracked
into three million pieces
of jagged bones.

I never knew destruction was beautiful until then.

The fourth, I gave up on my reconciliation.
Why try when it wasn't going to work anyways?
I waited out the furnace in my heart
and for the first time,
wondered why I couldn't be normal.

I was meant for a happy ending,
driving into a sunset with a boy by my side
and it didn't make sense
(but ironically it did).
Girls couldn't like girls.

But I did, I did.
And though my mother screamed obscenities
and my father looked at me in disgust,
I could not throw it out
like bottles of spoiled milk.
I could no less cut out my own being
than stop this.

And through my suffering I surmised
that if this was seen so revolting,
then I should go down for it.
A life for a life,
that's what I thought.

But was it worth it?
I do not know.
But me, me who loves as much as I hate---
I cannot cut this out of me.

And maybe, just maybe---
even as I fade like the waning moon under my parents' hatred,
and this thing inside of me is cherished and kept inside
the hearts of others
---maybe it's alright.

Maybe I will be okay.
Some people will hate on this. This is how I feel as part of the LGBT+ community and if you don't like that, it's fine. Ignore this and go find other poems you like. You live your life. But please don't diminish the fact that I am living as well. And if you think this is trash then don't worry I think so too. It's really not one of my best work.
Devin Piel Nov 2013
It was the first snowfall of the year, a very soft, quiet, powdery snow that silently swept over the town. She stood at the door, watching the soft flakes collect on the ground. Every year she thought of how she dreaded with wintertime, the cold, the snow, the slush, all of it. She had been quite pessimistic towards the idea of the first snow of the year. She wasn’t ready for the absolute sign of cold, not so soon. She sighed, knowing it was inevitable. The month was November and it had been cold since mid-October. She could only accept it and move on with her life for the rest of the winter.
As she stood, watching the snow dust the points of the grass, she felt something swelling up inside. She couldn’t tell whether it was nostalgia, or happiness or sadness, it was a feeling she had either lost the name for or it had no name. She felt her eyes sting as the tears filled them to the brim. She thought it was ridiculous to cry about the snow, of all things. There were more important things to worry about and she was crying about snow.
She shook her head and closed the door, walking away from the view. She held herself as goosebumps covered her skin. Slowly she went through the motions she went through every night, with the exception of the tears crystallizing on her skin. She rubbed the skin before going to bed, that curious feeling still filling her up.
She thought of the snow, and the one she loved, and everything else. As the night grew quieter still, the feeling became apparent as a nostalgic loneliness. As the soft snow covered the little down in blankets, she covered herself and wished to share her blanket with another.
something hit me the other night
Craig Reynolds Jan 2011
Mostly i hate to shiver, but
as of late
my mind floats
like a glacier

on a tundra. it’s almost as if
i long to be frozen, of finally


spread thinly across a moment. For

what is winter but
a season of correction and
what else does snow
hide, but warm seeds
not yet equipped or


to make an assault;
to reach for the;
unfolding firmament.
and how else:

will white blankets behave?
then to collect and save
every prism of light”
crawling toward it,
like the pilgrimage of a wave~
no longer discriminating].

against boundaries:
past, present, and future
and (all at once).

&latel;;, i cannot
quench my thirst
for the ice 0f eternity
to melt f1rst

our corporeal frigid for/\ /\s

into puddles of everlasting
copyright 2011
Space  Nov 2013
Ahh ahh Ahhh
Space Nov 2013

Early November
It's raining here
It's raining where I'm at

Fractions of water, crystallizing on view from first class
Blocking some old clouds
Drinking some boring drinks
Some old silence surrounded by some clouded dreams
Sir, I insist you take your seat

Because you're all tobacco
You're all the CEO's and vip's this world has ever known
Because I'm all the rain that started pouring on you when your little brother went over
Every drug dealer and kitten stealer
Because I'm a bible preaching single female
Every fail you've ever felt
Every feeling on LSD you've ever seen
Every glass of water that you've needed
Even all those atoms in your clenched fist as it goes in for its first kiss
No wrists on me unless you're counting scar tissue
So count away so I don't have to
I've been broken lately
And i'd just like to break even

— The End —