Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Carlo C Gomez Feb 23

sunset chant

a feathered fog, isle of wight

we all have places that we miss

lie still, sleep long
panoramic dream
bathed in seldomness

lie still, sleep long
the gentle hum of eunoia
holding their absence

like balloon days
when delightful little occupants
holding adventure
in their very hands

keep them
from floating away
Carlo C Gomez Jan 12
I. Fog Glossaries
'Echoes don't tell lies,'
but inclement weather so often does.
between whales and feverish thought,
between their sparkle and debris,
what is brewing systematically,
right under the surface,
might be terrifying.
or it might not.

II. The Cruxifiers
Time and life are machines that manufacture doom,
their sparkle and debris calculatingly withheld,
like keyholes to dark rooms that they
—in their reserved attack—never let you into.

III. Oceano Dunes
Bedouin princess—Charis Wilson tumbling
with Edward in the sand
—a photo finish.
—a young woman's triumph.
—a naked gift wrapped in sparkle and debris.

IV. Jellyfish Are Murderers
Here's a hint,
needle mark refineries are back,
expanding and contracting
in Baltic Sea,
in sparkle and debris,
smack after smack,
umbrella bell stings send
another pearl necklace
of dreams to its grave.

V. Container Ships
Substance A covers the outside hull,
Substance B is leaking from everyone's ears,
still the captain smiles, sailing straight ahead, ignoring the crew
as they turn into sparkle and debris.

VI. Mouth Guards of the Apocalypse
No one on the submarine is listening,
scopes up, spirits down,
current position unknown,
longer commutes, shorter lives
recede the fear of sparkle and debris,
by hiding out in the guest rooms,
waiting for a messiah drink
or perhaps a palindrome:
'never odd or even
no lemon, no melon.'
It's all so sour to the teeth and gums
of Armageddon's kids...

VII. Womenfish
Lost girls drive rental cars, change identities at rest stops. They shuffle down an otherwise sunny street beneath their own personal raincloud, shivering in an oversized coat. They imagine they're a parable stretched over the sea and not just mere sparkle and debris.

VIII. A Mother’s Book of Hours
At home and in her head
the roots get tangled,
so she storyboards each morning.
the lathe of heaven
must be Morse code
for death of romance.
she hears silent music
as her children sleep,
as whales sing off the coast,
they share their blood,
they share sparkle and debris.
there's a sweet little lie
baking in the oven,
she doesn’t want to talk about it.
she wishes her dreams were longer
and catches an interested eye
at the dream window,
her hands surrendering
their attempt to conceal,
naked is her perfect disguise,
you can hear her repeatedly asking,
“Who have I lived for?”

IX. The Pavilion of Dreams
How often I dream water,
some are lakes and seas,
others Olympic-sized pools,
each a self-portrait,
holding fast to the resurrections unseen,
to the digitally etiolated detail of the comedown,
every chimera ending
with my mind floating
just beneath the surface with all
the other sparkle and debris.
'Echoes Don't Tell Lies' is a borrowed line from the title of Neville Pettitt's new book of poetry.

Within  the stability
Of a late-night bed,
    thighs part fully
from words  given..
    Words, sent

Hands  on curved hips;
*******, to bare chest..

As the daughter  of Light
   is lifted up

there is an Entering

In Seed-splashed egg
a  New Beginning;

Chains  of steel
  falling free
within  the warmth
of   each  new  Pulsing

(there is the  sound of Ecstacy
on the  inside  of the door;
on the other  side of it--
the forever-harsh  clank,  
of judgement)

turn off the light
take a deep  breath..

   and relax


"The fiery stuff of all my ability  to will seethes tremendously, all that I might do circles around me, still without actuality in the world, flung together and seemingly inseparable,

Alluring glimpses  of powers flicker from all the uttermost bounds:

The universe is my temptation, and I achieve being in an instant, with both hands plunged  deep in the fire,
where the single deed is hidden..

the deed which aims at me
   .. now is the moment."
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2023
A summer of twigs
And disposable cameras
But the skin was shy
And others were watching

So we shifted these walls
And dimmed the lights
To a thousand unclosed eyes
And passed through in eclipse
Of future rhapsody
Carlo C Gomez May 2023
Give recognition its own library
Its own USB port

An evening of multiple connections
Hardwired and soothingly modem
Transmits my thoughts into you

I know your voice
I know your body
And how they work together
To leave a clear network to my heart

Unpolished Ink Feb 2023
Our connection
is a pale moon above
and stars that shine
they are yours as much as ever they were mine
we feel the grey of falling rain
the warmth of joy and the chill of pain
we live and we love, we laugh and die
under a yellow sun and the same blue sky
Lyn-Purcell Jan 2023

Swathed in my caution
I search to find my daring
Fire cracks my egg
I've been long since lost
Colours of the creative
Dulled by daily trudge
I hear the wind call
Fearing the might of my wings
Fall before I fly

Guess who's back! ^-^ on my 995th poem too, ***!
I hope everyone's alright in their part of the world. It's long overdue that I reconnect with my past love. Daily life is droll but I'm slowly finding my colours again. I still don't feel worthy of my pen at times but this is a blessing. Hard to believe that we will be in February tomorrow. May 2023 be a fantastic year for you all! I'll definitely be posting more this year. To reconnect to my inner child and creativity. It's long overdue that I try to spread my wings instead of dealing with the constant fall.
Much love to you beautiful souls out there
P.S - Melissa, this one's for you! ❤️
Take care all!
Lyn ***
it's the same ocean that touched our feet
i knew your voice, recognized your heartbeat
it sailed across a hollow husk of a shell
when you were pouring yourself out there

as each wave crash heavily on your thighs
the moon pulls the tides gently
like blanket over your cold shoulders
your salty tears merged with sea breeze

i was there when you weeped
and the thundering clapped
i was there when you grieved
for each death of your old selves

the most beautiful thing to come out of the sea, when she left i found parts of her soul buried inside me
AJ Jun 2022
I think about everywhere we've been, and the innumerable unreproducible moments

But then I remember quietly fighting about homeschooling in a Denny's

I feel like I'll never connect in the same way with another person

But then I remember that I am dramatic and each intimate connection is unique

I finally am finishing watching our last show that I just haven't had the breadth to pick back up again

And I remember the exact way in a specific moment of the show that you laughed
And how many times you laughed that same way through the years

And I feel pain,
deep in my heart

But then I remember,
pain never really fully leaves
Next page