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angel  Feb 2019
Canvas
angel Feb 2019
I lay down
your creamy expanse
unto the marble surface,
as if milk made love with
the stars in the galaxies.

I write you out
as pleasant simmer
of pulverized charcoal
and bloated glycerine.

I splatter and spread
fine dusts of Carica
in temperate motion
to touch the sleek edges
of the vanilla branches
on your person.

I hold and dip
my feathery digit
amongst rose water
to grasp the flowers
that frames your face,
like light morganites
that hail from the west.

I cast you off
as the blue sea engulfs
the life from the waters
where life swims with
stable beginnings
and whirlwinds of stories.

I finish you
by letting molten pearls
lither your dark onyx orbs,
surrounded by your lakes of gelatinous almond,
like shooting comets
finding rest on land,
as lightning's faint and close
but never quite touch.

I made you
with intrinsic detail and rawness
to give you the life
that you may never have.
may these words show its own form of art.

090219; 07:29 --- revison due to incompleteness from original file
Poetic T Aug 2014
The ground was turned
We sewed the field
Toiled though,
Night
&
Day
We sewed the harvest of WAR,
Seedlings of Death
Bullets were littered to flower
Different calibres
Bearing the fruits,
Those picked ripe on the branch
Magazines
Armour piercing
Tracers,
Explosive,
Rounds, best not to drop.
C4 planted watered
with
Nitro-glycerine,
Like a ripe melon it grows
Till it is plucked form the stem,
A war head hangs heavy
lest it falls,
Wiping out the harvest & more,
Planting the seed of destruction
Is a hazardous Job,
One wrong step
And a spoiled mine
Can take off,
Toes,
Legs,
Insides,
Spill out in to the field of WAR
Feeding those objects
That would spill more blood
Once harvested,
This field full of the seedlings of **WAR.
joanna dibble Mar 2012
immortal bonsai infused with glycerine on banker's desk.
Westley Barnes Mar 2012
The mirror always laughs first
Spilling light onto imperfections
Alienated from the image in the dream.
A silent curse,
The accusation must remain to this world unrevoked.
Instead pretence must tissue tear stains,
To sundry up a surface glycerine.

Social man has broken all ties with nature’s earth,
He created machines capable of producing images
So he needn’t deny it.
Social Woman was always more comfortable inside
She expressed no claim of love for the landscape
Found no comfort amongst the soil
No romance laying in the dirt.

But yes, the mirror attacks.
The symptom is always one of weakness,
Of the self not having the power to leave itself alone.
The body distorts the mind at first,
Paving the way gradually for more active decline.
We hold it to ourselves to feel worth, or lack thereof.
You can’t sing the tune effectively, without first trying to think like you’re someone else.
Someone that same mirror fails to recognise.

Keep ahead of the crowd so you’re not held back
Expectations will ruin you more than your fears.
Talent is to others that which they lack
Mystery and purpose are all the mind reveres.
Allainst Oct 2013
One.
His mouth was open far too much. and his eyebrows bugged me a lot, but he let me pluck them sometimes. his mouth was the first mouth I've kissed. I'll never forget how happy I was when I knew I had him. "swimming at the pool" when all we would do was stay in the showers and make out. everything was new and exciting, but I ruined it and I never thought I could cry as much as I did that night in my bathroom. we still talk but we're different now and the only thing we have in common is glycerine by bush. but we were so young and so in love.

Two.
he was the one my mom hated. he wore stupid necklaces and was from a broken family. but he had big eyes and black hair and made me feel like I was the best thing in the world. he was also the first one who cheated on me and let me know exactly how it felt to be betrayed. I won't ever forget that feeling.

Three.
he was younger then me and I knew better but there was something in his cocky confidence that drew me in. I took his virginity and then fell for him, but he had other girls and no time for me so it fell apart.

Four.
my first college boyfriend. I don't feel like I ever truly loved him but it was convenient. He had shaggy hair and cool friends and would take care of me when I got to drunk. But he was also the first and only boy who physically hurt me. I lost every ******* feeling I thought I had that night.

Five.
Tall and gangly. You called me cute names like creature and babelet and shrimpling. I feel like I miss those pet names more than anything else. I never fought with anyone the way I fought with you. Passion was definitely not lacking in our relationship. But you were mean just like the rest and destroyed my trust in you over and over again with your 'oh we're just friends' answer. when we both know it was more than that. now you're dating one of those just friends and have recently proven to me how awful you are, you can't be faithful to anyone. though I do miss the cuddle sessions. you were great at cuddling.

Six.
it was a ****** up situation from the start. but man I was ******* crazy about you. i lost myself trying to make you happy and as it turns out it wasn't worth it, it never is. you cheated on me with her and with that I lost all of my confidence and happiness for a few months. it's starting to get better but my mind wanders and comes back to you sometimes. I thought you were the nicest one, that we were on the same page, but we weren't. you lied just like the rest of them and then told me I didn't deserve it, which made it worse. *******, I hope you and her's house burns down. Because you guys moved in together right around the time that we were supposed to. I've never felt so insignificant as the day I found that out.

There will be more, I know this. It is because I love falling in love. But it's the times in between that matter the most. To "find yourself" or embarrass yourself or sleep for days on end because you have no reason to wake up and face another ******* day. I may be cynical now but at least I'm learning.
They all lie and I'm no better at it than they are.
The thin, clear layer that forms on rendered fat is glycerine.
You can mix it with nitric acid to make nitroglycerine.
Mix that with an alkali nitrate and something like sawdust or paper mush and -Boom!-

Dynamite.

I learn things when I listen.
Render the fat by boiling it in water and skimming of the stuff that floats to the top.
VioletNova  Feb 2013
Room 2401
VioletNova Feb 2013
The signal fire is
coming home.
Desperately clinging to smoke
from the shores gun,
we came from
heart in wire.


Two souls at a negotiating table,
one wounded,
the other taking them in.
Eyes-One String,
a pregnant belly full of
words. Your reclining head,
covered in violets.
Maybe its better,
if you don't say
this isn't everything you are.

The empty bar is quiet in New York..
20 secs till the last call as I run
to the next page, in the next chapter.
Fraile hands hold voices in quakes and
strange music. This room, a shade of wine,
suspended names in vocal chords.
Glasses filled all afternoon, now sip
as I draw the curtain.



comfortable silence blooms alongside a paved road,
somewhere only we know...
in stones it is scattered, spilled against
stolen skin, tattered never torn.
A skeleton key, the master of morse code.
Tattooed against my neck.
sweat.blood.tears
holding tight scars
beneath the surface.


intertwined fingertips pulsate
against the rim of paper,
like the marching bands of manhattan.
distance has torn this earth once,
vindication. Drive, Darling, Drive.
setting the fire, to the third bar.
lifting the sheets that cradle your ****** hands
an emergency room filled with nurses
the crossfire, in my bones, bleeding that
dark roman wine across tables of
a teenage dream.

A heroine saved a life, A hero is absolute.
searching for warmth beneath your pen, your scalpel.
found there is your lifeline, dense breath and trembling.
Stay, you found me.
Knitting away at your skin,
brushing against violet bruises,
imprints of days gone by.
A tower, someone like you, a soldier in silence.
memories reflected in abandoned tattooed houses.
curved around palms, grasping the last bit of
crimson tide.

The reason why: lights burn to crack the shutters
in an attempt to fix you, candles and fireflies
inside these lines, just say yes as the city winds
back down into the wild, and we into the fire.

bricks against our backs,
the electric feel of home, at your side now,
an outline of womb fired venom
fallen empires consuming
day old hate.
every drop of words, swallowed.
vicious stains left by hands, yours.

we go tonight,
this
poison and wine.
A wooden chair
held last night,
friday,
after the fall.
Like glycerine
dripping into rain
fast cars
As I continue to sew all of what your wrist let fly
away in this moment.
Georgia, Texas Rain.
Brush it off.
There are better days, ahead.
The remnants of life are on the blade.
For god sake, dear.
Nicole Oct 2016
Had you known how I lived,
Would you then understand the meaning
of true despair;

Undressed,
Unkept,
Unloved,
Deprived.

A quick fix, probably.
Roses should have little meaning for you.

Beautiful, even if it is only for a time.
Show affection to it by passing it around
Bought by one lover and given to the next.

Let it wilt,
Let the bright petals fade to grey,
To brown,
To black.

Feel the once soft texture against your fingertips
Turn brittle and delicate.
So brittle, it can barely hold itself together.

Affection for a time
For it held little significance,
Merely a tool for the wrong kind of love.

A rose longs to be preserved.
To have its beauty kept
While it is at its most radiant form,

In between pages of classic literature or poetry,
Or cold glasses made of glycerine.
Adore it in the long time, not just for a while.

I speak of roses
As though they were human.
I speak for I am shattered.
inspired by gluck.
love your flowers, love your women.
The psychedelic tricks in the
colours
that she picks and what
she wears,
I swear are
diamond rainbows
in her hair.

And glycerine gives
quite a sheen,
my fingers slip across her skin.
I
can never pin her down to plant a
kiss upon her shiny lips,
gloss drops and drips from fingertips and
the psychedelic
strips the night away.
nat Jan 2019
feel it heavy as it presses down on my heart
and handcuffs me to the bed
my brain is filled with glycerine and
old cooking oil
my brain is fried.
thoughts of addiction riddle me in my sleep
i don't feel safe in my own body
trapped here, i live by a clock
i go by what time i need to eat
eat, ****, sleep
eat, ****, sleep
eat, ****, sleep, cry
the city of lost gold
some settler found it
iron in a bouquet

suffrage wants no magnification

did we separate them long enough

lust and la la la love

they make an iffy couple

let alone combo

nitro

glycerine

cheap

risk

   and pink cement


babe dont mean anything
different
               to me

here i am with envy
     I'm cheap cigars
youreover there
sta sta staring again
at me- throwing questions
            with grins

no i dont want a negation

british accents or something

                weak

i just want to talk
and keep our services out of the back
youre just my customer now
in this 5
            Man
                Town
I want nothing more than to take

     both of the kids and leave

— The End —