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n-khrennikov Sep 2018
They eat her eyes,
they drank her soul.
I buried flowers with hearts in the grave. The crow find their blood.
n-khrennikov ©



Dark Drive: The turn
Ormond Jan 27
.
Backward-man loves his dog.
Ties him up before and after
His walks, likes to goad his pet
Too, speaking as the weather wails
And howls then dog looks down,
Sad on his master dumbfounded.
A chain is worn as it scrapes
The ground connecting dog
To his master.  They both love
The sound of it hissing as it strikes
The concrete pathways, sometimes
Man and dog feel free, not a part
Of each other, the chain may break,
And fear is for forks in the road,
The rusty pockmarked grip of his links
Have always been there on walks
Ahead and behind though it makes
Things confusing as if in a dance
And sometimes they wonder which way
They might end up after all—
And when the dark and golden
Rope, as always, is finally tied
To some old fruit tree, the man
Is happy his dog has both sun
And shade, but also has joy watching
Dog beg for ripe apples he cannot
Reach.  Some people might come
To think that dog thinks those apples
Are not for eating.  Everyone loves
Fruit, don't they?

Backward-man built his dog
A house as cold as a three-
Storied barn, out of things
He could not afford, things much
Too good for dog to not care
About, maybe man built dog's
House for himself, he cannot
Really impress his dog.
Backward-man likes to think
He knows what dog is saying.
Barks and whimpers have deep
Meanings, 'world is a good place,'
Dog says, but when pooch says,
'World is cruel,' crying, disobedient
Whines gets him a serious kick
Out of old anger from backward-
Man.  And man can be a hell-
Hound on his own, the way
He twists and unravels the things
He needs, like truth and food
And love— that goes without
Saying for backward-man hates
His woman, but loves his dog.
.
Foram Adeshara May 2017
You are like a rain,
Sometimes pleasant, gentle soft.
Sometimes unseasonably heavy.

You are like a night,
Sometimes moonlit, misty.
Sometimes extremely dark and cold.

You are like dream,
Sometimes blissful and romantic.
Sometimes bizarre, incomprehensible.

You are like a talk,
Sometimes heart-to-heart.
Sometimes ribald, scurrilous.

You are like a wind,
Sometimes gentle.
Sometimes strong gusty.
Kimberly Lore Apr 2017
My head is a thundercloud
Roiling with depressing thoughts
And deep claps of apathy
That give way to startling flashes of anxiety
Still, I know, this too shall pass
Michael Apr 2017
It's like the reality of falling leaves:

In autumn, people seek them out
Their perfected performance of death
A leap from ten stories in a party dress
The taffeta catching the up draft

No one gathers to see the aftermath

Of carnage covered by dirt and water
Taking beauty and churning it out
Brown sledge grunted up by the earth
Spit out, mangled, the marrow exposed

It's always the same
The crowds bottleneck, shove, push
To see the start, but at the end
Everyone is looking for an out

Such happiness for what follows hello, for
Everything that comes just before goodbye
eF Apr 2017
I left the room,
Feeling like a* million bucks.
But once I closed the door behind me,
A
gust of wind came by
*& blew me away...
Depression *****.
Sitting in therapy feeling invinicible.
Leaving therapy feeling invisible.
One second everything's fine.
And the next it's all a lie.
Cné Apr 2017
slipping in her wet painted petal
bitten by the sting of his bee
her first time, he fumbles being gentle
excitement dancing in his driving need

instinctively possessed
arcing her hips experimentally
his maleness sweetly carressed
teasing his need, tremendously

each submersion in her sweetness
peaking waves swelling in her breast
entwining rhythmic explosiveness  
pulsating gush, plunging over the crest
Metaphorically speaking... lol
Ormond Apr 2017
.
“If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is - infinite.”
― William Blake


.
In this room
Drowning,
In ocean flesh,
Our days, replay,
With eyes cut
Out under sheet
Of stars.  All is
Not real, screened
For a soul, lost
On the dry lands
We bury ourselves
In.  

      One day we shall
Wake into the sun,
And bathe in the light
Of unbridled constellation
And voids deeper than
Life, holy and actual
Like drowning flesh,
Come, alive in sky,
Lit by eternal sheen,
Lost memories, grace,
Being burn, new sparkle,
Cast to air, as embers preen.
“In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.”
― William Blake
.
Ormond Dec 2012
Backward-man loves his dog.
Ties him up before and after
His walks, likes to goad his pet
Too, speaking as the weather wails
And howls then dog looks down,
Sad on his master dumbfounded.
A chain is worn as it scrapes
The ground connecting dog
To his master.  They both love
The sound of it hissing as it strikes
The concrete pathways, sometimes
Man and dog feel free, not a part
Of each other, the chain may break,
And fear is for forks in the road,
The rusty pockmarked grip of his links
Have always been there on walks
Ahead and behind though it makes
Things confusing as if in a dance
And sometimes they wonder which way
They might end up after all—
And when the dark and golden
Rope, as always, is finally tied
To some old fruit tree, the man
Is happy his dog has both sun
And shade, but also has joy watching
Dog beg for ripe apples he cannot
Reach.  Some people might come
To think that dog thinks those apples
Are not for eating.  Everyone loves
Fruit, don't they?

Backward-man built his dog
A house as cold as a three-
Storied barn, out of things
He could not afford, things much
Too good for dog to not care
About, maybe man built dog's
House for himself, he cannot
Really impress his dog.
Backward-man likes to think
He knows what dog is saying.
Barks and whimpers have deep
Meanings, 'world is a good place,'
Dog says, but when pooch says,
'World is cruel,' crying, disobedient
Whines gets him a serious kick
Out of old anger from backward-
Man.  And man can be a hell-
Hound on his own, the way
He twists and unravels the things
He needs, like truth and food
And love— that goes without
Saying for backward-man hates
His woman, but loves his dog.
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