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Allyssa Sep 2020
Listen to me,
My love,
listen to me.
The urgent call of your name rings through the air,
Like a warning bell being sound off.
Loathe the way you wash over my body,
Consuming the dark corners of self indulgence,
As if you know the culling sways my every move.
If you knew the damage,
The turmoil,
The rot in my brain,
That spreads the more I touch you,
The more I breathe you in,
Poison in the warning bells.
I sink lower into these depths,
How I will rise,
I do not know.
But it begins with engaging with my pain
As motive.
I begin here,
Forfeiting my life to the self indulgence I've denied myself.
C'est l'amour que j'ai envie et peut-ĂȘtre l'appel du vide.
onlylovepoetry Jun 2016
~
the Nth culling
~
she gentled sleeps besides the imperfect poet,
who has wandered the hallways since four am,

retuning his returning

to their temple bed,
to cull, pluck, her each precious breathing sound,
source material for his
Nth
love poem

smirking at his own
Nth foolishness,
weeping tears at the consequences
of human interactions,
he wonders,

why does he worry,
searching to distinguish
between the black and white of life,
hunting for meaningful words

when all the while
he has the vein of her breathing to mine,
as if he were a
Ruth,
following behind
the harvest reapers,
culling a bounty of
dropped grains,
fallen unto him to
garner, imbibe and memorize


those Nth breaths,

that last but seconds,
but here memorialized for
his own
all time
Jonathan Surname Aug 2018
An ashen late Autumn was upon us,
and in our best worn coats and sundries we--
held steadfast by a masthead of a rotting boat.
Wooden on a shore of the lake we adored.

We held still as soft deer galloped their lanks through strange
lands lifted from grounds with brick built upon brick,
wherein now were filled, not berries, but hunter's saltlick.
We ravaged a place we called our own,
We stole from the savages their home.

But we found a peace amongst their nerves,
and we were fearful of speed and we'd swerve,
if ever we found in our path one that deserved,
to have the freedom to rummage through roughage.

On this solemn lake-side we found pride in the soft light.
Because what the **** else can we do,
but to sit where once grass stood in dew,
and instead of plucking and mucking about,
no, in lieu, we sat and stared and remarked,
instead about how we've done damage we can't undo.
john muir inspired
Arlene Corwin Nov 2017
[There Are] Things You Can Never Change

You make provision for; you train,
Prepare, do anything you can,
And still,
You have to deal with the moment:
Variations never-ending,
Ever modifying and evolving
Subject to the will
Of something your own will,
Will never understand.  
(why do you think there are so many meanings to the word?)
Good luck, and blessings on us all.
May we cull the best from life in every world
That may/may not exist.

[There Are] Things You Can Never Change 11.25.2017
Definitely Didactic; Circling Round Reality;
Arlene Corwin
culling the moment
People, we should all burn
We poison this world and each other
Simply because we are unhappy.
Yet we have the ***** to say
We're good people
While we hold blades
To the throats of those around us
The only cure to this disease
Is a culling.
I wrote this today during an activity at school done by a spoken word poetry group

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