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Winter 21h
I’m fire and I burnt you
My flames licked and caressed
Your heart until this heat made you dry.
Now i cry, worlds apart from you
and through infinite time
we divide and depart
and apart we divide…
I cry,
I cry
Deconstructed tears wet my face
I gave you my only ocean
and through infinite time and space
I feared that you saw me

Where I feel love’s elastic band stretch again.
the projected feear of losing the one person you’ve bared your bones to
where do we go from here
"Why is there only one chair in this room?"

"This once was an island." She replied.

"You favor this place then, I take it?"

"How can I not," Said she. "The dawn here is quiet."

"Not on this floor, you are much mistaken! The stairs are like an avalanche."

Looking down at herself, she quickly changed the subject. "There are barcodes on each breast now."

"I see. Were you nervous?"

"Only when focusing on the morning break," She confessed. "Otherwise I was much like you--killing what keeps us alive."

"Is that so bad?"

"I wonder. Sometimes I still feel the bruises." She stated. "But I am told this is normal."

"What else did they tell you?"

"To quit worrying about not being built to scale," she stated in displeasure.


"For me to prepare to fall again for the apocalyptic things written in the sky," She admitted with a wicked smile.

"What's so funny?"

"I recognized your handwriting long ago," She uttered into the centrifuge.
Maria Jul 2
On my last day of solo travel
I made the split decision to take stairs down
A random, haphazard side street.
I sat down at a cocktail bar
All by myself.
The only patron in this basement.

I was greeted with a smile
Missing one tooth
In the dark room
Asked what liquors I preferred
There is no menu
I listed off what I had tried and what I wanted to
She would sip a bit of the drink
Pipette on my outstretched hand
So I could give my input
As we constructed the flavors together
Laughing, eagerly offering and accepting my
suggestions of what the drink needed
Childlike wonder, curiosity, and play.

We experimented with absinthe
And amaretto, cherry, lavender, banana, sake, gin
pickled *****, coconut *** and umami bitters
She made me my first tiramisu martini.
A total of 5 cocktails in 5 hours spent together.

I asked her why she moved to Prague -
She said the single word “war”
She had to leave Kyiv or risk dying there.
She said she is so broke that she buys cheaper shoes that don’t fit and pads them with paper towels but still gets blisters.
She lives in a one bedroom with her mother.
Men started groping her on the train as early as nine.
She sincerely wishes her uncle would die.
She has made no friends in this city since she moved a year ago.
She has gotten fired before for being unlikeable and standing up for herself.
She painted the cocktail bar walls sage green after hours for free because the manager could not afford hiring a painter and she genuinely likes this job.
She is a polyglot: knows French, German, Ukrainian, Russian and English.
She’s vegan but she tries the fish-based bitters and egg whites for work every night and likes their taste.
She has not been to a doctor in years because she cannot afford it.
She has overdue medical bills racking up interest she worries about.
She got fined once for having an expired train ticket - now she always checks the expiration when she rides and has a valid ticket.
She points out, in her embroidered dress and matching embroidered jacket, that there’s cigarette holes from the ash the wind blew that she doesn’t have time to mend.
She has a college degree and a virtual master’s degree.
She thinks she’s old at 31.
She doesn’t trust men anymore.
She thinks that she’ll never get married or have children, even though she really wanted to when she was a little girl.
She was eager to smoke a cigarette outside when I needed to use the restroom.
She never let my water glass get empty.
She doesn’t know how she’ll make ends meet next month.
She asserts that life is unfair but that these are the cards she’s been dealt and they’ve made her stronger.

She thanked me as I left and told me that the conversation we had made her evening better
It was the most freeing feeling she had felt in months.
Being able to share and lighten the load of what she has been carrying alone made her emotional.
She says typically tourists and locals won’t ask or listen.
She feels othered by both.

We agree with tears in our eyes that we don’t even know each other’s names:
We laugh, our names are so similar.
Jeremy Betts Jun 27
I'm failing
And I'm doing it at twice the speed than I'm falling
It's daunting,
Can't shake this loser feeling
Always ******* in dealing
With a mind that reeling,
Emotions that are spiking,
A heart that's spilling,
A soul depleting
And thoughts sent spinning
It's not even something I'm hearing
At least not outside of this in house courtroom hearing
That's taking place every morning,
Going deep into the evening
There's no co conspiring,
No colluding
Or hitman hiring
It's self inflicted self destruction,
Without instruction
And while it's death defying
It's still an emotional beating
To the point I begin wondering
Am I still a living,
Human being
Type thing?
A strange bit of questioning

Glenn Currier Jun 24
Thinking of him flings me from these plains
to the nearest body
of water whose mist smells of salt and life
the unrestrained passion
and ****** of sea.

The book, Odes to Common Things,
a gift of a dear friend
who knew not the arousal,
the seed of near sensual desire
it would plant in me
like the buttery aroma of a woman’s hair
or the taste of her moist lips.

Even a thought of Neruda
takes me to the stormy stirrings
wrought from the ***** of the Pacific.
and sounding on the shores of Chile.

How could the writing of a man
a continent away
foment in my chest
a fervor akin
to a spiritual awakening?

I read him in English
but feel the thump
of his Latin heart
in my body.
I read that his book, translated into English as Residence on Earth, was born of Neruda’s feelings of alienation. It seems that a large part of me feels as if I have been on the margins of society and maybe that is why I feel that thumping of Neruda’s heart within me. Spanish poet Garcia Lorca calls Pablo “a poet closer to death than to philosophy, closer to pain that to insight, closer to blood than to ink. “A poet filled with mysterious voices that fortunately he himself does not know how to decipher.” * I thank oldpoet MK  and his poem Broadcasting the Seed of Poems  for the inspiration for this poem.

“The Thumping of a Latin Heart,” Copyright 2024 by Glenn Currier
Written 6-23-24

I am human after all
Tempted each day
I am foolishly blinded by love
Sliver by sliver resolve fades away
I am immobilized by agony
Weight grows hard to bear
Tip over so I can be free
Off edge to fall somewhere
Toppling head over heels in a haze
Comparable to Jack and Jill
Chain snapping as moment occurs
Crashing at bottom of this hill
I am the statue everyone sees
Poised awaiting instruction
Off-track I tumbled through the trees
Cracked by calamitous destruction
Start healing wounds all over skin
Created from own poor decisions
Gravity not willing to let me advance
Rolling accumulated incisions
Back and forth I wander
Earth tilts beneath my feet
Dizzily confused I can't figure out how
To steady myself preventing defeat
It's impossible getting where goals are
Wobbly with each step I take
Top of the mountain seems so far
Luckily legs do not ache
It seems this journey will not ever end
The wind
Rattling bones that comprise my skeleton
Rampant running around
It's not fair punishment by any means
Served my time in this location
Already processed surrounding scenes
Fists balled due to brain's frustration
Downward I cast exhausted eyes
Driven by instinct to carry on
I am accepting of demise
All hope is gone
If hope is what makes us human I must be something else
Spicy Digits May 3
Chase your tail
Chase your tail
Heel on neck
She will prevail

Sacrilegious fun times
Cowardly Sundays
Spent in mourning
Singing hymns about crimes

Nights of hedonism
Days of dissociation
Baby birthed a daughter
Before opening her legs
To leftism

Douse the unbelievers
And pass the match
Watch them light us up
In self-righteousness

Spit at us cruel kindness
To bathe us in false prophecy
Ready devices of your fathers
Pointed in hypocrisy

Chase your tail
Chase your tail
No longer master
She is your hell.
Elena Jun 3
wires in my head
acid runs through my veins
my body moves by thread
thy got me
they got me
they got me
now i am like the rest of them
lonely marionette
MsAmendable Jun 1
When we as loveless humans failed,
With hate in every word exhaled
We turned and let our gods all crash,
we turned our children into ash.
And from out the ashes crawled
A thousand demons, wide and tall
Roiling mud and blood and stench
Tore out from groaning wound-like trench
And then down from the sun there flew
(not too many nor too few)
A band of angels, a golden choir
Singing songs of purging fire
And at the end of battle-day
In the fields of war there lay
No liars, beggars, thiefs or knaves
But a thousand crying naked babes
Lydia May 29
think too hard and realize
No One Cares About You
it’s all perspective

today that might make me feel defiant and extraordinary
tomorrow I might feel empty and alone

to always be truly by yourself in exactly what you are feeling in each fleeting moment is both unbearable
and the only thing bearable about being a human at all
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