Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
BlindClandestine  Sep 2019
BlindClandestine Sep 2019
So quiet
Yet so loud

A whisper
Yet an echo

Very subtle
Yet lurid

My world
In a picture
My Abstract World
Nolan Willett  Jun 2019
Nolan Willett Jun 2019
In ancient unenlightened days,
There came a man whose triumph would’ve laid
Foundations for a better world,
Our inner compassions unfurled.
For we thought we found a holy seer,
To rid our lives of all our fear,
To tell us what to say and what to think
What to do and what to drink.
He did his best,
I can attest,
To warn us of that one,
Who would see all our progress undone.
Indeed, many in our history have been
Told what constitutes sin,
Left with a hurtful scar,
By one who never wandered very far.
And our true messiah saw
This prophet for a gaping maw,
Another of the tempter’s tricks,
A man whose touch could heal the sick.
For he loved God more than most
But found him in the cosmos,
Our divine provenance,
Rooted in collective consciousness,
Not an oath to take or die
Or a being to mollify,
Nor any kind of credo,
But an universal ego.
Heeding logic over gullibility
He recognized the liability,
One who would see them die for naught,
And stray them from the insight they sought.
But in trying to break the cycle
He heralded its arrival,
Enshrining the sun,
Of the cursed three-in-one.
He made a martyr
And thus followed generational slaughter.
Promising sacred haven,
Causing war and famine.
For deceivers are known to appear as savior,
For them there is no pleasure greater,
In casting down the righteous,
And rendering them mindless.
And so millennia could have been spared
From some cruelty our kind have shared-
So long and so onerous, never ending-
And our pity’s rending.
The earth’s inhabitants coalesced,
No longer their souls oppressed,
Saved from prejudice,
Alas, poor Judas.
Sorry I published this a couple times I had to fix some things and I like it so
ryn Jan 2015
   Curious minds,
      splashing under
      outstretched kisses
     pulsating yellow,
     Over the awestruck
         Feverishly tracking each
      on sight.

   Resting the moment
    on a
     cresting knoll,
   an audience of several
      Whilst the
        whistling sirens
        in the winds do call...
          Wasting away
        the ticks of

        Evading with class,
       heart's turbulence,
        Craters of sadness
           in thin air,
             Glamorous amnesia
          with cadence,
         Eyes wide shut,
           lost prayer.

             Lifeless gazes
             abrasive tears.
             As erratum
              catches up
                with its
                 gaping maw.
            its anguish
             rips and shears,
              Bleeding out
               singing wounds
             so raw.

              time carries confident,
                its stock of
                   soothing balm.
                   Latent doses
                 invisible vials.
                  Welcoming vision
                    with its
                    sunlit palms,
                   Staving the longing
                    for the
                    fear of trials.

                      Now hushed
                         remain the remorseful
                        battle trenches,
                        Deprived of their own
                           ­ save gaping wounds,
                        ­     faint faith
                ­                   corroded limp
                                light away
                        ­         agony
                   ­                doom.

           ­                 *ryn
This has been an amazing experience!!! Big thanks to Moonskittles for the opportunity to share a page with her captivating style of poetry!!!
Alan Edwards  Feb 2014
Alan Edwards Feb 2014
You wake upon a carpet soaked in wine
to feel the walls around you stretch and shrink
and press against the pressure on your spine,
unbed yourself as tucked upon by drink.
Unwind the vise that clamps around the head
and loose the ***** that tightens at the jaw.
You twist the tendons, heavy as a tread
and strip the bolts that drive into your maw.
You wobble, wisen upright with a yawn
and warble, crooning, swooning to the floor
and crumble on the carpet with a coo.
Your cogs are locked; your curtains let the dawn
abound, secured unfirmly as the door,
as bright and strident skewers ****** you.
I've never had a hangover.
Breon Oct 2018
Another night staring skyward where
          Every creaking shift fills the world
                    And the ink-black sky's toothless maw,
Shocks and aftershocks of sound
          Where a moment's discomfort swells
                    To a frenzied crescendo, incessant,
Pressing against skin from within
          Until a saint's patience would break
                    Like lips parting for a stifled sigh.
Midnight falters and fades to dawn,
          Surrenders to the unconquered sun
                    Who, grinning wide as the horizon,
Watches the twisting, turning world
          Tear away from night's dreamless womb
                    Sleepless, stumbling away in a daze.
mariamme  May 2018
taste me
mariamme May 2018
i am only *****
when you are so far away
the weight of your absence
like the maw of a cave inside
and i ache to fill it
ache to feel hands and mouth
instead of empty breeze
the dark heat of your gaze
instead of my fingers amid sheets
so ***** i ache in waiting
for you to come fill these spaces
this is a little risque
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2019
I attended school in the latter
mid of this last century.

It was even before Ireland
went into the EEC.

We were almost 100% Catholic
back then, and no foreigners.

None of us had ever seen a
black person, we had no TV.

Yet, on every counter top was
a box collecting for black babies.

Our town was called Magh Allah
in Irish, yet we'd no idea of Arabic.

Only twelve miles away, there was
another town with a Muslim name.

It is called Kan Turk, though Baltimore
Cork was sacked by Algerians 16th C.

Still, there was not a trace of a Minaret
anywhere, round towers yes, no Mosques.

All of this I found confusing, because our
teacher was called Maw Shea De Hulla.
Next page