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Chad Young Oct 2
O beauty in my horizon
You look at me like a thousand days
we've spent together, or
longer still.
You take pride in our gaze together.
You are the answer
to my every male instinct.
And there you recline,
as if you are made of starlight,
as if you've swallowed the moon.
Your neck has no point save
regarding me.
You are intent on setting
me aflame with desire for you.
My body aches to keep
its inner mojo.
Yet you snake around
my neck and seep into
my testicles.
You say "this is a test".
"For what?"
"You know" she replies.
"A test for me" she gives a second answer.
"To see if you can come on my star destroyer"
"Where does that lead?" I ask.
"To another time."
"A time when you're free."
Then Christ's neck holds me:
"Can you pray with Me, and stay resolute?"

Sigh.
Another night
that I might not know my pillow.
Midnight
My darling boy, my blazing maiden.
I shall dine on a field of daffodils, and my heart will rise. We will beat beneath the sky of lightest azure, in a sea of golden white. I will kiss your mouth with the fruit of raspberry, to light you in the form of wildest scarlet - my blood will boil on your youthful skin, stained now for ever. As we muddle our hands and eyes, the great stars will rise and with their rising wake from seas the dragons of our dreams. We will watch as they explode in bright cover of the moon; their divine shapes will crash and break and silence the world.
Let us be one with our vision, let us ease our minds.
Wild spirit  
dancing under
Moon
bathing in  
Her nocturnal
essence

Artemis
Diana
Hecate


Shadow twisting
around the fire
kissing
naked skin
toes skimming
in exultation

Maiden
Mother
Crone
     ...
JustMK Jun 18
There is something undeniable about this new aesthetic:
Barefoot and barely presentable
as I slow-dance in the kitchen at 3am
Nobody but me, my shadow and a gentle grey kitten who patiently watches me pour another cup of coffee.
I stir in cinnamon,
a taste that's heedy and all too sweet against the roof of my mouth.
So strong it makes me want to gag,
and yet I sing under my breath:
old tunes I have no business remembering
and lullabies brought to me on the wind
[singing] all you have is fire
-and the place you have to reach.

My mother wanted a girl she could put together like a jigsaw.
A girl who would sit still and patiently endure
the effort it took to construct
the perfect plat, perfect updo
perfect winged eyeliner, perfect blush
perfect poise, perfect dress,
Perfect daughter.
Instead she had me
a muddled and confused thing
with a tangled mess of curls and eyes that couldn't quite look away.
Something with ***** fingers that knew the give and take of every leaf and blade of grass
something that couldn't sit still on creaking church pews
because for all the beauty they pursued, she'd seen the unmatched grace of rolling thunder
and the indisputable life of the ocean.
While other girls watched the boy chase the girl to a perfect kiss
she worshiped the women who took up their weapons and refused to keep their peace. - A child raised on a steady diet of Victorian poetry, Greek myth and poison. Stitched together with images of Artemis, Scottish women and a heathenish name.

My mother would lead me in prayer each night before bed, hoping against all hope to change what was in me. But my father made me wonder if I could be a knight one day, taught me to sing their vows of honour and justice during those ungodly hours when sleep was far.
The hours when his blood called to us both in its ancient tongue. The hours where his stories became my Bible. The hours when the smell of lemongrass and rain filled the house.
The hours when I would be barefoot and dancing in the kitchen
Barely presentable yet undeniably free.
It's 12 June and finally I am starting to come to better places. Finally I am beginning to sleep without sleeping tablets. Finally I am beginning to do what's best for my mental health.
Kamilla Jun 16
Every cascading curve,
Envisioned and brought forth
Colt brushes accompanied by oils served
Gentle glide to slight drag North
Smooth, fair *******
Of yellows, white and reds
Complied thoughtful hues
Silk of emerald, bride of white
Paintress’ gaze, lovers by night
Modra Galica Apr 29
She sits and stands, dances and spins.
Laughs a bit and then cries the saddest tear,
no fear in her eyes, a puzzle unsolvable.
And she knows she is capable of anything,
she can do magic and pull any string.
Sometimes a bit empty, in her thoughts she would sit,
every bit of her skin hot and wet, on the edge of the world.
Her glance deceives without you knowing,
her eyes going far while she disappears
to some other loves, never fully happy
curiously lost, those dark and wild things...
and she can stare at clouds for hours,
at rain, black bird's wings...
And then she slips out my hands,
once strong and now weak as spiderweb.
And she sings, what is life but a dream, deception?
Then I admire her, and want her for myself
to hold on to her for another moment.
And as the sunset watches us, I know
I am the one being left without her, alone.
As she seduces, as she chants and sings,
she is my maiden, my God, the black bird's wings.
Straight from the ashes that burned bright and cold
I’ve risen to the chaos that spawned that day,
My wish upon the stars rising bright and be folds
For the future I've seen will never fade away.
—•☬•—
Monsters and enemies swarmed us like black fireflies
As we were stuck within the blazing sun,
Hearing the siren that came from upon the bright sky
We proceed to escape, watching soldiers run.
—•☬•—
What yet lies beyond the naked eye’s truth
Will be swift, merciless and sharp,
All the friends I've made within my youth
Has betrayed me, leaving me in the dark.
—•☬•—
Heed my request young warrior of the night
Don't be scared or stunned for even a second,
Draw your blade and face against the blight
And rise to the top with soldiers beckoned.
—•☬•—
For a fraction of a heartbeat I come to my faith
As the eight maidens sing in unison within the cold,
Reaching out from the darkness of the void, I hesitate
As my lost story begins to shift and unfold.
—•☬•—
And as the tainted leaves start to descend and be rotten
Deep within me, an energy comes out untold,
I am the protector of the withered and fallen
I am the true commander of my soul.
—•☬•—
Warrior’s Confession
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oh my love, how fair you are—
far brighter than the fairest star!

Native American translation originally published by The HyperTexts
ghost queen Dec 2019
why do you pretend to be so tough, projecting a hard exterior, when i so clearly see the little girl behind a paper tiger. a little girl who wants to be loved unconditionally, protected fiercely, embraced heartily in her father’s arms, is that what i see in you, a reflection of me, a little boy, afraid, alone, craving intimacy, fearing, distrusting to love and be loved.

take my hand, let me lead, let me be the man, missing from your life, let me be an example, to witness, to rebuild the trust, that has been lost, remove your armor, slowly, piece by piece, let me see the child that you protect so fiercely.

learn to trust, allow yourself to be vulnerable, you have to give to get, trusting another is difficult, you are not to blame, there is no shame, being a child soldier, in an adult world, a veteran of lecherous wars, having your emotions manipulated selfishly, mangled carelessly, becoming cynical, suspicious in order to survive, leaving you disillusioned of the world, disgusted in those you need and want, depressed with the reality of a ruthless society.

we are older, wiser, bolder, the wounds have crusted over, healed, leaving scars as reminders, of what we want, but can not get without giving, patiently tilling, turning another’s heart in the spring to harvest in summer.

it is frightening to show our true selves to another, perilous in what is required to develop the craved intimacy, frightening in escalating, arduous in sustaining, and reciprocating personal level of self disclosure.

we anesthetize ourself with drugs and alcohol, or distract ourselves with mundane things, quotidian tasks, to numb the deep need, the intense yearning for emotional connection, the warmth and security of being held like a child in mother’s arms.

you have to give to get, to love to be loved, to accept to be accepted, for “the greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return (1).”

(1) Nate King Coles (Nature Boy)
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