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Sep 2015 · 405
Tchoupitoulas Berry
Steven Fried Sep 2015
She is a fresh Tchoupitoulas berry,
the fresh cream on Commander’s pie.
She is a rest from my long day,
a caress through long nights.

The air whispers her passing.
In a rush she flashes, hot
she sprints away — toward the sky;
the air crackled, white behind her.
Her brush pleases and passes and cracks like lightning
swift, merciless, ecstasy.

to all,
and she is all,
to this one

Not a hand in love,
Not a fist in hate,
Not a word with wisdom,
Not a syllable of fate,
No chains grip tight her wrist,
to abate her speeding flight.

She will roar away, or she will float free
of tethers,
as Earthly, caring, confused, scared, lonely,
as me.
First time I've seen my change in venue in my work... cool.
Sep 2015 · 270
Deep in the Night
Steven Fried Sep 2015
My pen moves lethargically, when you are gone
My stomach is weak,
poisoned with thoughts of you and he,
not sad, no, your caress, his,
dare I moan a wish?
To be yours, and you mine…
To lay with you, rest…
To siphon your stresses into a jar,
seal them tight.
And then, we’ll scream together,
as we act, react, and sway,
they’ll scatter, shatter, deep… in the night.
Trying to find my muse
May 2015 · 321
A generation torn
Steven Fried May 2015
go to college — study what you love,
get a job — don’t worry about money,
start a family — focus on your career
eat healthier — try our new stuffed cheesy crust,
make time for loved ones — provide,
spend more time with her — give her everything,

the gristle is all that’s left
when you’re eaten alive
May 2015 · 343
Steven Fried May 2015
Cover me in a shroud
poke out prying eyes
don’t let them see my confusion
all that lies beneath is hollow

Press me into a corner
batter my body against the brick
break my legs
just tell me
where I am

let the sky fall
and crush us both
now you feel
and now you know
the crush of a body
no longer limitless
May 2015 · 348
Steven Fried May 2015
Travel the world
see the rainforests with full and pointed leaves
swim in the streams and feel the smooth mud
eat delicacies that make men weep
smell the refuse of a billion
lie in the arms of strange lovers
listen to the sound a rose makes when it bends in the wind
now return

See her there sitting between the stacks
the phosphorescent light is harsh on her skin
the world is laid out before her
can you tell her about the rain forests
about the leaves that fell with forceless precision,
about the streams that chilled your bones
and made you feel alive
about the food that drove you mad
and the blinding smells
tell her of supple foreign skin
about the rose so delicate that when it finally snapped
so did you.

Could she understand?
Would she care?
"What do you know?" she asks.

So you try to explain,
you paint the most vivid picture
of nature, man, beast, land, space,

"What do you know." she says.
May 2015 · 235
Steven Fried May 2015
The stone is cold against my cheek
bring the glow closer
I can feel the heat
hear the spark
smell the fluid
see the flame

Slowly the rock glows through my skin
and burns
the sharp touch signals
a rising nether
where thoughts float free
and men don’t cry
and I don’t care

The fire burns low
and the stone grows cool
I am left

Was I flying?
I never left the couch.
May 2015 · 335
The Well
Steven Fried May 2015
In fertile ground when you plumb the land
don’t be surprised if she drowns

in the nest with the other chickadees
far above the forest
the cold still penetrates down ****
the chirps are fewer here
each intake of breath is sharp
small heads peer about
not yet old, not yet wise, not yet ready
to fly

but there she is below you
peak for a time
she laps at the well
poisoned by dung
she’s purple and gangrenous
yes gangrenous for the way’s been difficult

she says goodnight
and nestles into the underbrush
fading light ushers in white flakes
it’s quiet, her eyes won’t open again

the well floods
and rivulets spread down the hill
she is too cold to feel water slip up her nostrils
into her lungs
too numb to question

there she lies
drowning in her own silence
there she dies
too weak to scream
May 2015 · 279
Where are the answers?
Steven Fried May 2015
I know how to ask the questions —
asking isn’t the problem.

Listening is easy —
just be still.

Is it there?
In her shrill voice in the twilight
in the bark below my window
in the cry next door —
of exultation, of pain, of sorrow, of life
why am I silent?

In my own mind
I have answers
to questions not yet asked,
for fear of death or deep despair.

Do you know where I wander
when my eyes are glazed
and my scowl is set
it’s foreign there
would you follow?
would anyone follow?
why won’t anyone follow?

Where are the answers?
Steven Fried May 2015
Some men have greatness ****** upon them.
While some men, are average

They resent their privilege,
and miss their dog,
and hate their dad,
even if they know —
he’s just human.

These men don’t want greatness.
they wouldn’t know what to do with greatness
if it kissed them upon their lips.

all they want,
is someone to talk to.

But all they see,
and all they can feel,
is the blank page.

And all they hear,
no matter how hard they strain,
and beg,
and plead,
is silence.
May 2015 · 2.4k
Not heartless, heartbroken
Steven Fried May 2015
Not heartless, heartbroken
not manipulative, not terroristic

Not heartless, heartbroken
the fields of grass sway bright blue and green
under a red sky weeping
horseless, loveless, alone.

It’s not an unerring path
it’s a wounded warrior pierced by stalactites
huddled cold in the winter
a man searching, and hurting, and crying

Better to have loved
to have splintered
to have shattered
to have hurt
than to remain
the King
of Pluto.
May 2015 · 260
It's terrible to be alone
Steven Fried May 2015
It’s terrible to be alone

to be high
when you wish
to fall

It hurts
to search
not find

to see
and not know

to fill
and feel everything rush
like a sieve

to wake alone
       and eat alone

              and watch alone

                     and sleep alone

                            and think alone

and to be crippled

and to not know

It's terrible to be alone
I feel alone sometimes.
Apr 2015 · 1.4k
Straining Silence
Steven Fried Apr 2015
Red mutes hurried through the passages, underneath
They mewled in a soundless frenzy — straining
Mania drove their bodies against the walls, and broke through
Rain, a drowning curtain from prejudiced eyes
Stop! and stay there, down below, together
So the caverns may echo, but no one will know.
Dec 2014 · 319
Steven Fried Dec 2014
Do I care?

How was it?
Why didn’t you call?
Why didn’t you come?
Why didn’t you go?

**** her.  *******. **** me.


Drink, drink, stop, don’t, stop, stop.
Just let me-
No- I want this.

Get out.

I’m sorry?
Dec 2014 · 318
Steven Fried Dec 2014
I soared through the clouds
felt their cold tickle my face,
nerves spiked,
freedom in my nose and my veins

I lay in the jungle
the sweat clung to me like Velcro
a grassy rug underneath
bugs clicked, ticked, tickled all around

On the beach
the water was too cold
and the sand too hot
but where were the sirens?

I walked onto the highway
for my first drive
attraction consumed me
coarse asphalt tripped me

The lights passing held allure like no other.

My clothing was too heavy
so we took it off

My roommate was too close
so he turned away

Our lust was too strong
so we let it burn

And it consumed us.
college, love, ***, friends
Nov 2014 · 430
Love now
Steven Fried Nov 2014
We meet here again
Slimmer than I’d care to admit

Of us ever intertwining hands
In love?

Of how to break through the veil of acquaintances
eludes me

Take the leap with me
Don’t let me regret

loving your body
open your window

On the top floor
I’ll climb mountains
to love you now
Nov 2014 · 448
Steven Fried Nov 2014
We have sacrificed freedom upon immovable alters
White runny paint is our animalistic blood
We decorate where we pray
frescos, mosaics,
Crete’s naturalistic landscapes
imitation only because we are unsatisfied with the un-safety inherent in Earth’s identity.

look at the wall
imagine your lover on the other side
hold your hand to it
imagine your finger tips touching through the plaster
now see her dead
mutilated on the ground
in a ****** pool
because you couldn’t reach
over the wall

the City is a masquerade ball
things hide behind brick masks
who knows
you could **** a tenement building with a Mac truck
like an aristocrat penetrating his princess
late into Moon’s rise
and find a thousand thousand beetles and cockroaches streaming out of the hole
and prisoners who haven’t seen the sun in years

we are humans
no longer natural, caged.
no longer aware, lost
no longer real, facades.
What are our walls?
Nov 2014 · 467
Remember Home?
Steven Fried Nov 2014
Remember home?
You could shed and fall to the ground.

The sun shone then
On clear skin
not stained black
by slow

You didn’t live for the chill.
Cold nights did not hold such a romance.
You sought warmth-

Blooming lives wither
without sun
dreams die on fat-lips
and the broken feeling
Nov 2014 · 1.2k
Steven Fried Nov 2014
The Overpass
Boys get high

and pass the warmth

vivid and bright.

Living surfaces surround them-

 spray paint
under the overpass.

They were nigh new members

a nation of addicts.

Here recruitment was rampant

where friends went to try

and they broke-

chemically chained

under that overpass.

In the summer

strange souls pressed together

to ****, to love, to grow,

a maiden voyage

hailed by the night
inhaling the night

under that overpass.

If ever you get high

and look for something more

it’s right there

under that overpass.

Behind the weedy grass and paint

a blue door waits.

Bones litter the escape-

to a new world.

Pass out of  this lif
and lay before it.
Release yourself,

enter paradise

under that overpass.
Nov 2014 · 605
Her and Him
Steven Fried Nov 2014
Her bones were brittle, her hips
fresh cracked plastic.
Her hair was gray
lackluster straw.

Her sweatshirt was too large, her stomach too small.
Her pain overwhelming, her resolve a mask.

He lay near.

She sat in a wood chair
at the kitchen table;
where she'd been
for days.

She lowered her arm gently, and beckoned,
"Come back."
Her plate was empty- her glass too.

His plate was empty- his glass too.
He lay away, as tired as she.
His eyes found hers
in hungry confusion.

"Please," begged her nature.
Hollowed, that was all that remained.
"I'm sorry."

He did not know.

He looked to her, his first, his last,
his only- perked ears and a dry moan.
He sighed and closed his eyes.

She chose to close hers too,
"Goodbye," she hurt.
Nov 2014 · 507
What is your name?
Steven Fried Nov 2014
What’s your name?
Does it have a sensuous timber?

Like Nina, and nuance- necessity, and
No nonsense numb love

Like Rayna, and rapture,a release, and
Rending/rupturing by a rasp in the

Unending length and infinitesimal declaration of love and hate
It's ulcerating in your mouth and
unsteadying in your bones

Your name is like two future lovers
Hands inching hungrily
For the first touch, they graze
Slightly at first, slowly, playfully
Dancing lithely in a crowded room
Groping and touching fingertips and skin
And then the fingers interlock

Hand muscles contract to such a degree
That your intentions

And for the ephemeral and ultimate
The silent inching explosion of passion
Is the universe
Nov 2014 · 600
Your First Time
Steven Fried Nov 2014
You took me stumbling to the elevator
Into my dorm, it was not even nine

I put on a movie
we kissed- hard

I laughed
you unbuttoned your blouse

I was below you
and I asked, "What should I do?"

You said, "Take your pants off."
so I did.

The ****** was on
and I was still laughing

Then it was happening

I laughed during
I finished

I stood up, "You should go."
you left

On my comforter
you left your mark

Blood stains as big as my head
that bleach could not remove

I was drunk
you were sober

Was your first time,
Oct 2013 · 1.2k
Steven Fried Oct 2013
how can we fly
with clipped wings
majestic creatures with unbridled souls
free range horses
only hindered by sadism and disunity
and violence in the air and on the streets
and mutilated limbs and cruelly mutilated hearts
lost loved ones and broken spirits
downtown junkies and washed out drop-outs
broken down cars and trailer homes on cinder blocks
large homes and broken wine glasses
splintering summer porches and decaying floor planks in the Poconos
how can we ride
with flat tires
Oct 2013 · 1.2k
Steven Fried Oct 2013
insurmountable and incomparably lethargic legs and cinder blocks
weigh on our spirited necks
ball-and-chains of addiction, attachment, and spiritualism hold us prisoners of the looping track
over one Everest
onto the next
with baggage of all sorts
don't trip or your trip
will be the last with you in last-
left behind
Oct 2013 · 1.2k
Steven Fried Oct 2013
Divided by lock and key
bolt and lock
hold solid in stolid monotony
strong oak lacquer knights are guardians
standing vigil in front of dark rooms with darker secrets
Glare in glass panes and through the shattered splatter- splintering shards dance over musty old ground-mold dusty without sound because whom is here to hear the whispers flowing out from within
But resist the steel boot brutes kicking and screaming to steal in
killing hostages on your floor
treasure chests and gold chalice -might be within
no crusaders disturb what you strive to preserve peace and prosperity deemed unimportant
with outstanding austerity
don't give up your mystery
because then what are you but history adrift
sorry it's been a little while...
Oct 2013 · 436
Queen Topples
Steven Fried Oct 2013
The Queen went up the hill
with her gaggle of boys in tow

She sat in her carriage
and she had four men below

Up they went to find the gift
of knowledge only the Oracle bestows

At the top balanced a rock
with a goat to push it right down

The goats might and her strong horns
sent the boulder toward the procession

Down went the queen
as her men ran away

Not one slave left
no one tried to stay

Flattened she became
The Pancake Queen

Why did they run some query
Because she was so very mean
Oct 2013 · 1.0k
Steven Fried Oct 2013
Faster pedal gas
Rev your engine loud spirit
Break loose the chain hold

Sixty flat
Five seconds faster
Left dead locked


Nails glass knife
Slash a tire pop
Passenger seat

Three deaths on Oak Road
Valedictorian dead
Terrible the loss
Oct 2013 · 673
Steven Fried Oct 2013
Flow over me

Steady rock
Crustaceans roll by
Iron stood

"Come with me my friend
Explore the wild wet world
Stick no longer here."

Brother eel
Slither lithely by
I am scared

Strong rock
Weak spirit
Oct 2013 · 647
The World
Steven Fried Oct 2013
Burning red eyed glow
Cool to your embers
Blow smothering the flame
Bonfire emotes in flame
Blue oceans deep pass over your heat
Let me sink in I've dove deep

Your pools of blue
Draw and drown
Magnetic energy motorized within me
I spark
Hitherto never shocked
White blinding light
Disappear in the cloud

Trampoline of cotton
Take me higher, higher
Show me wonder
Don't drop me.
For I will fall onto the green
Grass won't stop this descent
Bush won't cushion this fall
Tree won't just impale
Forest nights grow darker

I'm lying down on my blanket
Pressing into the lush
Breathing nostrils tendril tickles
Sink a half inch deeper
into the bending saber tips
Watch from your tower
Rays of gold meld and procreate naturally
Don't take my warmth and life

Golden globular orb melting sloughing sliding down
Un-fathomable happiness
Limitless light life justice
Ice cold depression
Death wallow in grief
When the mighty winks goodbye
The black will rule
Hades rises

Hellish requiem depress souls
Let the forms wander as empty husks
Tombs line roads and no light to see them
Take my vision hearing smelling
Leave me warmth
Even your red eyed glow
I submit
Oct 2013 · 541
Steven Fried Oct 2013
Chicken whole
The paltry poultry
Not a meal

Loving eyes
Rub close

Horses limbering
Stride gracefully long torsos
Grass feed grain joy


nal Sin
Varied Haiku structures
Oct 2013 · 573
Steven Fried Oct 2013
Losing race

Women are
never there when you
expect them

Formed from first
Man's rib

steel rose

risen anger
dire glare

clueless to

figured then
2-3-2 Haiku
Sep 2013 · 1.4k
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Soft Supple
Skinning Flaying Dipping
A luxury death
Sep 2013 · 1.1k
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Traction Air
Leaks Tears Turns
Blowouts on eight lanes
Sep 2013 · 762
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Plastic Paper
Gold Silver Platinum
All the value is subjective
Sep 2013 · 296
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Slate Gray
Holding separating defining
Walls are all we are
Sep 2013 · 858
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Flutter by
Ruled lined blank
Limitless Possibilities and Destinations
Sep 2013 · 326
Steven Fried Sep 2013
I'm aware
that I'm writing the word "aware"
with the letters A-W-A-R-E
Sep 2013 · 333
Steven Fried Sep 2013
I don't have a pit in my stomach
my stomach is a pit
Sep 2013 · 520
Immortal Spring
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Immortal spring trickle dry
flower blooming petals fall brown
a spry dog hops his last skip
or good leather falls apart
fresh pen run out
a pea wrinkles up
the hare finishes last
the loaf goes stale
solitary confinement wastes away
let the last breath pass
Will there be a soul to cry?
Sep 2013 · 474
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Last stop delight
Rock solid hold knowledge
Hold reality and sanguine
Start Souls
Sep 2013 · 1.4k
Late Night
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Late Night
Shared with you fright
Delight in terror lies
Ghost goul haunt the shadow lost time
Stay Close
Sep 2013 · 1.0k
Steven Fried Sep 2013
We make the time
Allowing it to rule
We bend to its inanimate
Sep 2013 · 514
Teddy Bear
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Teddy Bear
Childhood capsule
Chewed fur lost glass round eye
dragged along on muddy mine fields
Best Friend
Sep 2013 · 3.8k
Swan Lake
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Swan Lake
Crystal clear lagoon
Slow glide and procreate
The serene placidity humm
Last Song
Sep 2013 · 1.3k
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Run in your sleep
Fireflies light the night
Bark at your prey on the fairground
Night beast
Sep 2013 · 1.1k
Brother Dog
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Four black matchstick legs
with white strike tips
large belly and a strong black haired back

Gunk in his eyes and
behind the top of his long ears
he leans into delight

strong torse against leg
behind swaying in the breeze
belly rubs and dominance

the possessively agressive- toilet paper connoisseur
arthritis in his back right leg
I the nightly electronic chair lift
squatter on grass green blanket

I was away when it got worse
no acclimation
full on hell storm

ten years ago...
second grade he pooped in the hallways

he's grown out of the escapist gene
looking back now with our loving eyes
my best friend and brother
Spyro: My Brother Dog.
Sep 2013 · 2.0k
Craftsman and his Fountain
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Before the birds and the bees the sun and the moon
without stars in the sky nor the land nor the dune

Not a sea not a plant not a tree not an ant
there was not a wildebeest nor an elephant

Just one small room
was the Craftsman's dark tomb

He toiled unstoppably without night nor day
in the blackened room he was bound to stay

for eternity the Craftsman seemed doomed
to continuum to be stuck in the loom

Blindly toiling in the binding shadow
with black tools viciously hallow

hammers and nails mud clay ashen bricks
marble chisel mortar pestle tricks

Monotony sparked the craftsman's lost temper
the wall became canvas for angry distemper

His artistic equipment brushed the prison walls
hour upon hour O' mighty hammer falls

He hammered until it whittled away
his fists were red raw like the break of day

The Craftsman was caked in saddened rough sweat
dejection on brow heavy did get

The Craftsman let his head fall low
out of the wall did a light show

A peephole smaller than a rat's tail
was broken wide in the prison cell

Wondrously untamed the light spilled
rolling and soaking all was filled

With light's glory the Craftsman could not see
another blindness that harsh bright brought be

His tools and materials all were a beautiful gleam
the Craftsman pleasantly content with the scene

Slowly but surely the room was filled
and then his neck almost needed t'be gilled

Lacking a need and bound to drown
he singularly thought his problem profound

The Craftsman deftly picked up his tools
and set to building collective pools

To contain flowing light
he took all his might

and built wholly right
a fountain delight

Artistic wonders into his structure
of beast and nature all perfect sculpture

Of timber and clay of marble and grass
he worked until the fountain's completion at last

In the Craftsman's abode was the most beautiful fountain
which all of the light was collectively bound in

Little black Leeches began squeezing through
at first it was only one Leech or two

The Craftsman was able to squish them all out
but even he grew tired bout after bout

They began to stick to his precious creation
Leeches worthy of the vilest waste-bin

The evil pulled petals off of wooden flowers
and the nose off of many clay tigers sin powers

Duly distraught for days he sat
tormented watching his statue crumble flat

Under the weight he watched stone clueless
wondering who endeavored to do this

Disregarding he set to his one task
deep within his mind he firmly did ask

He built a statuette and endowed it with life
by breathily bestowing will to battle strong strife

Using only dirt that had flowed into home
he crafted brains limbs and torso and left them alone

The Craftsman thought and pulled out a rib
and crafted the partner the woman most glib

The Craftsman sat back and watched ambition grow
the seeds thrived and they the **

They fought and they loved they created and destroyed
they lived and they died but survived all the void

The combat with Leeches
embattled stony beaches

Watching the battle
he saw no major rattle

When the Craftsman realized he was needed no longer
he built a chair for himself and sat down to ponder

Years and years more was the Craftsman
stoically sitting watching his creations gain traction

They leaped and progressed
with clothes or undressed

Intervening no more
they handled their score

His beard grew longer and longer and his eyes drooped lower and lower
until finally the Craftsman's heart beat slower and slower

comatose he waited ever in slumber
for his creations to need him to save any blunder

Ever hoping it never was necessary
life flowed around purposefully predatory

He watched their lineage improve naturally and viciously
and off they went history to history
the future was as it will be just a mystery
Sep 2013 · 2.0k
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Addiction's innocent cousin ***** needling into my veins
infected me seasons ago
the ache I once felt still strong as mast's girth

From wind to wind sea to sea we internally roamed
in my mind the map was a treasure trove for exploration
i never was bound to lake shore
wind whipping tide tussling rousing mornings and dusky

My mistresses my pleasure gliding goddess
drift lazily and let me sing praise with shouts "Boom"
but coy or not I coil spry
aged not with time
but lessons learned

The youngest have yet to grow
knowledge of the mystery fables tell
of beautiful passings

Land's unreachable without proper direction
rudderless a hair's breadth magnified out of reach
cool autumn leaves fall on my skiff

She tugs at my heart and at your golden hemp locks
they have all my love stolen from your deck your bow
your stern your timber your core
but let us sail evermore
Sep 2013 · 875
winter kite
Steven Fried Sep 2013
the wind whisked away the kite
with a whipping force abrasive to chill reddened cheeks
went away went away the kite flew free

saucy clouds white with ****** of whim
the airy attitude elevates the aesthetics

small fall eyes chris crinkling in winter weathering the biting air

hidden by a ski cap and sheepskin innocence
the white knuckle grip shadowed by the fluttering fragile flurries

white the purest closeting the sadness at home
between father and son
love unrequited

engorge on the winter scene
but do not venture near
for families are the greater fear

not a crack will you see in day
and o' they do go out and play

but tarry neither close nor far
pretending supernova star

for they are safe to watch to learn
because all families end in turn

the dark winter sphere gorges
at any shine found so gorgeous

mood reflects a cold solstace glow
happiness you are struck down low
Sep 2013 · 759
Fun Meter
Steven Fried Sep 2013
And if you ever reconsider
you will get no chicken dinner

And if there is a place in time
you will not find not foot nor rhyme

And do come now I won't be long
for I am late to ring my gong

And don't you waste your good knish
or I will cut you like a snitch

So write your books and read your poem
oh that is Bob I hardly know 'em
Sep 2013 · 962
God of the Sea
Steven Fried Sep 2013
Rolling of a broiling and boiled red sea
swift sticky sick twisted greenery
netting licking at our heels
at pillars of strength O' mighty Achilles
pulling for bronzed treasure
but the marble temple stands
and our idols fall crafting a crown of sin
but who is the idol of the sea?

The compass
the stars
the moon

The sailor prays to his Women
the captain for his Men

Heaving and **'ing
of storms brewing since long before the Men knew the Women and the captain knew his god
How heaven unloads a thunderous sigh
belching a quelling force

Sheets shape figures in the dark
tip louder, louder, darker, darker
colder than wet
clutch yourselves close because you're all that's left
open your eyes and see
the real god

You are not a Man
there is no Woman
You are flotsam
I am eternal.
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