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Gary Brocks Aug 2018
Picture a late afternoon
iridescent honey-yellow:

The glance she knows is seen
her cool hand placed in yours
your stripped shirt she rips,
her mouthing, “You’re it!”, hiding,
revealing herself stripped,
her finger tipped shh,
the brush of *******,
surrender and assent.

She'll rise with a rustle
of desiccated pines,
needles will fall from her back,
she'll crumple a cigarette pack,
humming a vacant lament,
fingers caressing a fossil flea,
embalmed in a dangling pendant.

Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks

A girl I knew. She said on several occasions, “All my boyfriends remember me”. This was very important to her. Seemingly more important than actually maintaining a relationship with any one of them. Her memories of them were like fossils, like insects preserved in amber in a pendant, that she would rub over after a final *** act with her most recent specimen. Naming her Amber for the way she kept and used her memories (was I to become the flea?), and portraying her actions as a farewell soliloquy in mime seemed like emotionally truthful fun.
JGuberman Sep 2016
There are many days
when I wish
that like Joshua,
I too could make the sun stand still,
and there are many nights
when I wish to do the same
with the moon
to allow us subtle darkness
just a little while longer,
and there are many times
when my voice
is only its own echo....

You say,
that like a fossil
which went through its changes
at an earlier time,
that now
I too am changing.
I am no longer like wet cement
where the things
which I'm to remember
are inscribed
like someone's initials
upon the wet surface,
but that I am more like the things
I've forgotten
those things
which distress me---
crabgrass and weeds
growing up through the cracks
in the face of my soul.
Cody Henatt Dec 2015
Earlier today,
I laid outside atop the snow,
A feat that I haven't tried
Since life's true colors showed.

The frost numbed my body,
I'm sure red flushed into my cheeks;
I stared speculatively at the sky,
My eyes searched and seeked.

I wanted to understand the beauty,
That nature offers so readily, the solace,
That it blankets us in even on cold days;
I wanted to understand beauty that is flawless.

My tired eyes embraced small, soaring figures
That coursed through the air with grace;
Content to go their own paths,
Not engaged in a petty race.

The figures were falcons,
That spiraled and sailed on wind above me,
Probably heading south,
For warmth to set them free.

But in that moment I compared them
To man-produced ashes;
Gray soot that courses through the air
Dashes, in varying directions,
As fire burns.

In that moment, the birds drifted through the air
So aimlessly, like the ashes do,
Landing faraway,
Wherever they flew.

Nature itself could be ashes,
If people continue on this path;
This destruction ought to incur
Some sort-of wrath.
Nicole Dawn Aug 2015
I am like a fossil

I built my stone walls
Nice and sturdy
Around my true self

And slowly
Very slowly
The true me disintegrated

And as I faded away
My rock walls stayed strong
And soon a that was left
Was an imprint of me in my stone walls

And I became a fossil
Matthew Randell May 2015
The oil is gone, gone is the oil,

There is no oil for us to boil,

To power our cars,

To package our bars,

We need oil, oil, precious oil,

How we miss our material plastic,

We made everything out of it, it was fantastic!

Car batteries and glue,

Computers, shampoo,

All made out of precious oil,

Alas, it’s shuffled off its mortal coil,

Goodbye, goodbye to our fair oil,

Without our plastic,

Things are quite drastic,

All our cars are beyond repair,

There’s no more shampoo for our hair,

And on what do you think we do a poo,

Plastic toilet seats you cry,

it tell you, that’s not true!

You don’t even know how I’m typing this,

Computers are gone now – don’t dis!

Life really ***** without oil,

In 2011, it must have been royal,

A word of wisdom to those with oil about,

Look after it dearly, don’t let it run out!
Shaded Lamp Sep 2014
Over night busses infused with the smell of *** and popcorn
Bright eyed, happy kids with grubby faces no tears in sight
Dusty chaotic little towns fully charged with life
A chance meeting with a wild character
Offers of an experience we couldn't refuse
We paid up
Loaded up
And sped off
Into the velvet of the night
Headlights and darkness wrestling in the dust
Then the dead of the desert

Night skies bursting with stars
Midnight picnics
Cheap box wine, sandwiches and chocolate
Chasing enormous moons
Morning hangovers
Magnified by the stark sun
Fluid shadows cast
Where waves once crashed
But now
A barren emptiness
Holding so many secrets
Looking very closely
Oh, we did look closely
Evidence of ancient aquatic life
Chalk like ghosts set in the sand
Appearing only as the wind allows
Whale bones and rare blackened sharks teeth
There in the most arid place on earth
The Atacama desert Peru
Three days and nights we were out there hunting
Amongst the bashful bones of her prey
Hunting the formidable, elusive and extinct
Apex predator of the oceans
There in that parched sand
Clear signs of her hunting
But she remained unseen
Too modest to bare her beauty to this martian land
Waiting for the seas to rise
Maybe not for too much longer
Ten years ago and still I yearn to return
Chelsea Jul 2014
breakfast with you
dripping with innuendo
and that duck hunt hat
makes me feel like i’m being put to bat
a test
a request
for me to take the mistakes of my past
and not let them permeate
every interaction
each moment of satisfaction
knowing we’ve hit a home run
and the struggle to maintain
so it doesn’t all come undone
is an effort to find sacred balance.
there are things we know
that keep uncovering themselves like fossils
making it feel impossible
to pretend that this is the stuff of dreams
it’s a trap, a traipse through memory
and certainty
and it makes me feel crazy,
a feeling i don’t own too well
yet wear so easily you can tell
how anxious i am to leave before knowing
what you’re like in the fall
in the winter
in the spring
and that’s the thing,
it’s a burden of time

— The End —