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Colm Jan 2020
These words
Are neither alone
  Nor my own

Having found their way from eyes to ears
From ears to mouth
  And down

No thought original
Ought to be originally found
   When it comes to expression out

We speak
And what we think to be our own
  Is found
OG
Dante Dec 2019
Crushing progress is my only prospect,
so internally placed into my very lungs.

Listen here for the old man wakes,
so bedazzled by the black bird that sings.

The bird screams the cries of a tortured soul
Yet the man unknowingly knows the soft tune.

His mind blissfully enveloped in this tune
Underlined by a fate of inevitable doom

Is this a lie?
Or a simple life?

The man stands upon his crooked foot,
Ready to begin, once again.
This crooked note, ready for praise
riley minteer Dec 2019
when i've reached a proper altitude,
all will be as it should
and when i've reached that final peak
i will then be understood

silence hangs upon the valley
like a cloak of grey despair
nothing comes, nothing goes
never is there fruit to bear

so i leave my place of living,
i run across the county line
somehow i'll make it to the mountain,
no guarantee i'll come back alive

if i do then nothing changes
if i don't no one will cry
and when i've reached that final peak
i’ll finally be seen as I.
-riley minteer
“the final peak”
(from “seeds of change”)
Thursday, November 28, 2019
riley minteer Dec 2019
return in pieces,
return to He
violet grasses envelop me
breathing
waiting
leeching
breaking
prism-fractal
forest floor
seeded ancient,
resisting blight
shadows cast infinite light...
...a medium dampened by the night
hold my hand as i
regress
violent, devoid lack sense, selfless i,
you dig relentless
grasses sense the scent of
blood
glasses within parcels, platters
broken glass, shattered and scattered
you are glimmering, ghastly, strange,
all you are is selfish, vain
glass grows underneath my skin
underneath my skin is pain

often did i call for help,
never did it make a change
never did the music stutter
never did i share my pain
mader, madre, magdalene
you scour and scorn a thorn’d gaze
you hurt and make joyous exclaim,
then grimly cast infinite rain.
-riley minteer
“ grasses sense the scent of blood”
(from “seeds of change”)
Thursday, December 5, 2019
Antionicia Dec 2019
Pinky to pinky
Side to side
Eyes on screen
Why so shy

Am I too far
Too close to bluff
Can I be this close
Its more than enough

Like magnets
We're pulled
Like forces
Like fools

Too close to bluff
But
Pinky to pinky
Is more than enough
riley minteer Nov 2019
the sun's warmth passes overhead
i long to lie on glass plateaus
dry crack'd soil when sinking teeth
crumbles easily
like rotting flesh

all that was is overshadowed
a looming sick juxtaposition
i hear the chimes and flutes afar
when wind rattles through a field of bones

sooty grey, crème fraîche,
are veins of thistle without color
skulls and talons burning hot,
gleaming bright in desert-day

stripped by sand and beetle bites
fall’n remains and dusty cans
eons pass in tens and thousands,
all plunges into trench-ed depths...

a sacred golden tomb emerges
in the midst of a red monsoon
magma from below the surface
billows in a thousand plumes

this land is hell from what i see
the valleys are deadly and unforgiving
i'm swallowed up by rising tides,
all washes away before the dawn.
-riley minteer
“a field of bones”
(from “candlelight rust & shells”)
Thursday, November 28, 2019
riley minteer Nov 2019
here i am!
oh, i raise a fuss
they're looking,
waiting...

but seeing me they're not.
-riley minteer
“invisible”
(from “where did today go”)
Tuesday, November 18, 2019
riley minteer Nov 2019
warm is the fire that burns under stovetops
warmer is your knitted alpaca coat
you made us a dinner
yams,
veal,
whiskey and cornbread...
let me assist you,
enjoying your labor

honey, you are deserving of ev-er-y welcome
ev-er-y welcome deserving and true
if we could keep this warm autumn night
always,
i'd choose to have it,
always with you.
-riley minteer
“crackle”
(from “mind soul heart”)
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
riley minteer Nov 2019
once green now forgotten
the land we call home
the cities are looming
and dark
and lonely

what happened to sun
our greatest god
now cities are blue in the wavering smog.
-riley minteer
“once green”
(from “forces at bay”)
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
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