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Sue McCoy Feb 21
They fed you lies.
And when the nasty flavor grew
Too strong
And you choked on the *****
From throwing up the lies
Into a scratchy brown paper bag,
They laughed
And sold you a mint
To hide the acrid aftertaste.
Juhlhaus Jan 13
Long ago my mother gave me birth.
From her molten **** in the cooling rain I took shape.
Wind and water gently fashioned me and smoothed my hard edges.
Through riven clouds the bright sun warmed me,
And in the mist life wove me mossy coverings.
Day after day I listened to the wind in the heather
And the cry of the sea birds wheeling overhead.

Men found me on the mountainside, stripped me of my mossy cloak
And hauled me away on a cart of wood, to be used for the glory of God.
With metal tools and hammer blows they fashioned me and gave me hard edges.
They stacked me high on top of other stones,
Fitted me snug and sealed me in.
Through narrow windows colored lights shone on the floor below,
And in the darkness voices rose with scented smoke,
Singing of the glory of God.

Men warred with other men, took each other’s lives
And threw down what they had raised up, for the glory of God.
Scorched by angry flames, I fell from that high place to lie broken in the ashes.
Wind and water gently washed me and smoothed my hard edges.
Through riven clouds the bright sun warmed me,
And in the mist life wove me mossy coverings.
Day after day I listened to the wind in the ruins
And the cry of the sea birds wheeling overhead.

A shepherd found me in the grass, lifted me up
And carried me away in his arms.
He nestled me alongside other stones
To keep the wandering sheep from deadly cliffs.
Though riven clouds the bright sun warms us,
And in the mist life weaves us mossy coverings.
Day after day we listen to the wind in the heather
And the cry of the sea birds wheeling overhead.
I would not have thought a stone could have a soul, until I visited Scotland.
H E L E N A Dec 2018
I long

To linger no more
      in the hallways of amnesia;
      A clearing of the iridescent haze
      Into a world beyond ー

To sing here no more
      the sound of soulless sorrows;
      Echo into the distant
      Scapes and seas ー

To see no more
      the sights untold;
      Watch men erode,
      Pale petals unfold ー

And fall back on an unbroken dream.
Marla Toledez Nov 2018
Merriment upon merriment!
What parceled eyes are these?
Latent dilations that sting:
Bungled African bees.
You say as I-
Bid the fair day;
What tame a lion are you
To proclaim the error in my ways.
Leave you in a daze I shall,
As your ego suddenly croaks.
For **** hath no fury like yours truly
Who raps upon the door softly,
that you choke.
eleanor prince Oct 2018
Where are you
my one perfect muse
the shape of contours
conjured in dreams
held since bud was formed

Where do you rest
like me for that
of moments


Are you even
embraced in capsule
located in One

Or are you diverse
scattered like seed on
winds unknown
beyond my reach
as I wonder


Is it pointless to conceive
of your fullness
knowing deep down
you exist only in
poetry of disenchanted idealists

Newly formed realists
whose life work
lies smashed
pointless journey
reaching reality

Or will I glimpse you
in passing crowd
ephemeral but
sharply cut out
from all the rest?
(If not 'muse' then boss, friend, partner... )
Martin Dove Oct 2018
I had no idea how terrible it all was
Until I matured a bit and opened my eyes
It cleared the mist that I often now miss
From the eyes of an unwilling devil
Seeing the tragedy unfold from a first-person level
I remember it all from that god awful view
The bad things I’ve done, over which I had no control
The outcomes I hoped with the manifestation of some
Who am I kidding - I’ve been among a fortunate few
Except for the fact that life dealt me an ace with a ****** *****
Not quite like anyone - an outcasted sole
With depressive thoughts - eating them straight from the bowl
Until euphoria strikes - then I’m a lightning bolt
These emotional storms - they strike me as cold
Who am I to cry and complain about life
Everyone is united by the suffering light
The random subscription to a life with a set rhythm
If only I could command my heart not to wither
JP Goss Sep 2018
Many men use November
As an excuse to grow out their ****** hair
I used it to quit smoking.
Neither of the abovementioned
Examples came to fruition for me
Except an itchy neck
And some newfound attitude,
Strange dreams and lingering antisociality.
It’s the adulthood that
Comes with image
Something you can’t see when pondering the dismal
Grey sky like some kind of disembodied muse
And thinking ill of your fondness for it.
Such a pity is the happiness we derive from tragedy.
When prompted, you say your religion
Nihilism. Most people can’t tell
There’s a smile behind the self-effacing humor,
The sarcasm.
To see her riffing on her insecurities,
Is seeing pride shy away from
Its beautiful face
And you know she’s a mirror
Into a heart you abandoned to objectivity,
To brute facts of loss
And she’s the antagonist Zarathustra
Spoke so fondly of
A mirror nature speaks through
The voice you didn’t know you had, the breath that inspires
You see your own nihilism.
No songbird beneath the rose of Sharon
Ever refrained so sweetly.
JP Goss Sep 2018
When one lives in the mountains,
Valleys are common
And the winding backroads that fill them,
My mind is frenzied by the tires’ pop and hiss
With a 10-***** of a russet colored pill
Transubstantiated by the visionaries
Foretelling the end of sensation
And peddled by the wellmeaning.
If my psychotherapist has brain cancer,
Who needs their head checked more?
Again and again, I see my fingers reaching out
Enticed by the chemical change.
The homily promises
Anatman, nirvana,
Immaterial whimsies
That briefly entertain your days as a doppelganger
Or harlequin dancer wreathed in
Clear strands of
Struck in dumb bliss.
The mountains always show the veneer,
Always their plan of bleakness
To follow the autumn beauty,
And to cycle back like the conceit of forever.
JP Goss Sep 2018
…and quite becoming, disillusionment.
Old and young children are holding their legs
At the terminal of a new life,
Marla Toledez Sep 2018
Eyes having opened,
They were met by an infinite blue.
Deeply rich and sapphire-esque  in tone,
The sea rushed into the mouth that was held agape
By both marvel and fear.
At first instinct was the will to resist,
But then came the strange comfort of allowing the passionate Blood that once boiled
Chill itself to a painfully distant frost.
It was ecstasy and torture coexisting within
A circular harmony of sensation.

This order of solace was short lived.

With a shimmer,
The once reserved and vibrant sea of blue transformed
Into an abyss of clarity.
The briny and familiar taste shifted in nature to something other. Something potent, something repulsive, something sinister.
At once,
The calm oasis turned into a scathing ****.
His inferno incarnate.
A body that at past times swam with jubilance
Now sank to the fiery depths,
Having already lost both the spirit and the ability to fight.
The corpse felt an enormous pain.
But the mind felt none for there was none to speak of.
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