Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Evan Stephens Jan 12
Language ends here -
in the hazel of her,
in uncountable sleeps,
in a bundling of sun,
in a resonance,
a stray violin.
k e i Aug 2020
“so, did you say it?”

“what?”

“you know what.”

“......”

“the butterflies in my stomach; they flutter when i attempt to.”

“so don’t let them turn into moths. they’d only swarm and rattle more cages.”
A Simillacrum Feb 2019
Factions dance blade
to grindstone
(action)
Scholars scratch pen
to paper
(action)
Thinkers mash pride
to danger
(inaction)

What have I done?
Oh, I've lived
Meaningless & Ill
Longer than expected

What all have I done?
Eagerly
Ejected myself
From womb, to wooden womb
Maxim Keyfman Jul 2018
to wait for a prelude from fate
his words and minutes
wait for his gold rings
wait for his hand and hands
absolutely my silence
destroyed the silence
quite my conversations
destroyed conversations
and the day passes by white
white as a sunny day
destiny destroys and regimes
edit me like my novel

today traffic lights were on fire
or not burned
because who knows what is burning
can something that does not burn
and there is a true glow
and the moon is the moon
and the moon is constantly in the sky
although the sky and its light is not there
like the light itself
Like the fate itself and her hands
Like her silence and silence
gold rings

snow on the street
falling clouds
I'm again in my dreams
about kisses
about past
which have long since passed from me
and maybe they were not at all
because everything is in my head
and the future and past and present
which is also not
it's all in my head
but I know why the past
all the same there is
we believe in him
and we can not doubt
that's why the future
all the time changing and moving

to wait for foretaste of fortune
fate that will soon break me
which will soon play a funeral march
which goes every day
every day we lead birth and death
We die every day and are born
because all that around is
it's a dream in a dream
and endless dreams
which will never end
an eternal chain that can not be broken
we die the sleep fades
but a new
and all new and new new and new
then I'm a woman then I'm a man
all in a flash in one minute
fate is ruling my rings
my gold rings
light
which do not exist

21.07.18
Martin Narrod Feb 2018
Without sinking through the spheres. Hymns betting, still hands crisp under the wings. The wind slumbering, stays in the dark spaces. Eleven invisible pages, over. Any other name- Lux Arabesque, Uuqui Haratas, Preset: 117, and the foil.

The mirrored valley’s strangest flora, sifts the decorated thriving trails. Then it can all become an infinite weave in this world where lazy whistling sand dunes beyond, claim the rights to a juried Spring. Then somehow it may recant this glorious history we’ve only barely known. The potent eyes starved by madness, waxes seas and radio fields, slimming the loops that rip into  hinges and dispel a tryst.

Toward Earth’s serene prelude, this pageantry of standard masks make ascending towers just and stately. Then come the planets we’ve always loved: Mars, Neptune, and Jupiter too. Barefoot and staggering through the modern coolness of a colossal spring, aching mental itching grows. Until the fruits have fallen into the cloven shadows. Until buried stones alit with day consecrate these omens and conceive such lucid strings to break these quiet thieves into song.

Then the diary belies this affair. The steins upset the tales where pungent fleshy working minds coalesce. Observe the horses play in their endings, upon the wild mountain rivers where felling human eyes wander amidst these cleaved and sun-drenched desert mounds.

Pt. II

In origins uplifting diets foretell the escaped  seams of darkness whose lofty tongues of nature’s prose lift the veiled hours’ wraith. Never pressing bells nor raked by shivers, it occurs swiftly should the marbled rushing master call. Above the sound of narrow whispers, comes the wishing hands to shout.
Jack Harkins Jr Nov 2017
Your eyes like unlocked windows
Open, curtains battered in wind
Body still like shattered wills
Of hopes you thought not see again

But I lay here in below
Peering up from underneath
I scratch the shadow sew
And sear the towers keep

My love I swear to reach you
To your heart I'll be the rhyne
So consider this a prelude
To the rest of all of time

I am the Gale.
Lyn-Purcell Oct 2017
Within us all is a bright bright star
And dust within the rose.
How well versed you are in the
language of flowers.
For the passion of your heart
sees the all roses without
their thorny shields.
And let the fragrance dance around
your hand and neck.
And in your ear, the song of the three...
Been paying attention to the roses around me!
Juniper Zed Jul 2017
O don't forget my eyes
These pearls within my head
The wind in my last breath
Draws tears I dare not shed

O don't forget my eyes
Your face fades in the light
I fought so hard for you
My gift is this last sight
To be sung to Chopin's seventh prelude in A Major, Op.  28 no. 7
Indigo Morrison Apr 2015
I have shed layers underneath layers of hiding
To give you my undoing.
I have saved myself for you to witness this.
I have been waiting to bare my truths, no more than once,
But just for you.
I have been saving my yes… for you.
And locking away my vulnerable for the man who would not destroy me in it.
It is your lips, your hands, and your body letting down its bullet proof.
There are no walls here,
No mountains to separate my hands
From your back, your lips, your chest,
All skin, on skin, on skin.
I have been building on my freedom,
And I am here now
Ready now… to revel in it,
With you.
Only you.
Always you.
I trust you not to ruin me,
But do not be scared to break me… down in this room,
Break down in this room
Let go inside me,
Fall slowly beside me.
I am no judge
There are no rules.
My body was crafted with you in mind,
Your hands were skilled in prelude to my pleasure.
There is no stopping here,
No moving too fast,
No going to slow.
I am meant for you, now.
You are safe in me.
Say the word,
Say it,
We can die a million times together here in this room.


-Indigo Morrison
Reckless cloudbursts
rippling reverberations-
Her harmonic ensemble
hits a deafening crescendo:
taunts my senses, paralysed;
haunts my spirit, petrified.
Destructive forces of tides and winds orchestrated by nature's fury.

— The End —