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Joy Apr 2020
As his limbs stroked along the bottom
with all the power he held, in slow motion,
there was a case to be made
for the existence of the magical and the occult.
Kaleidoscope webs covered his back
in what looked like infinite rainbow nets
each brushing against a bone or muscle
unseen in the plain light before.
His hair was softened by the absence of air,
each strand fainting at a different angle
begging to be touched
right before being pulled in one direction
of precise yet strenuous motion.
All neglected now was illuminated.
Rarely things burn their way into memory
the way a face can be filtered through transparency,
distorted by liquid out of proportion
yet still so charmingly calm and surreal
all you can do is look away
and then stare again.
And what bottomless greed it is indeed
to wish to posses a moment like this for eternity.
Escapril 2020
jas Jan 2018
a soft kiss on the shoulder blade
cold brew up on the window sill
what a perfect duo
me and you

except , feelings creep back into my membrane
my heart sinks fast, feeling ill
goose bumps have me thinking
just for a cheap thrill
intoxicated with alcohol

call me a cab,
im drunk to walk
if im doing the right thing, why must I feel at fault?

of course, you beg me to stay
baby please, one more minute
forcefully grabbing my wrist
'stop', I say as I clench my fist

it was a good night
up until it wasn't
why is this scenario so constant

*** crazed lifestyle
tell me, is it worthwhile?

longing for romance
young love
perhaps
not with you
& not when im done a fool

all must come to an end
on a last whim, here's one last kiss
and im gone
like the wind.
day 12 of 365
Ottar Apr 2015
Places unnamed, faces blur
coffee so thick, dressed floor swims
mermaid knows what needs
to be met,
not conversation

Quiet can give
couched restful head thoughts,
back flat all else elevated
poking sky holes ball point pen size

Eyes already closed
body drapes bed linen
pillows, with sides of cold
now plate my heavy head

need to get sated, not sedated

Where ever I am sate,
Ear bones move to vibrate,
to the secret code of songs
pen touches paper,
                                                  spill ink in
that moment,
calm
is balm,
fear becomes vapour.

A poem is born.
Challenge today was today take normal prose type information I chose, my favourite places to write, and by dropping some words  (the , at, that) anything that is not CONTENT,you might be able to go to prose to poetry.... So my favourites;
Coffee shops, couches, bedroom naps, music, in combination writes my poetry sanctuary  written while listen to Good For Grapes, one of BC's finest groups, I would call them young, but they have been at it for about sure 8 - 10 years...

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