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Coop Lee Oct 12
[this is just an intro course: a 101 on death and dismemberment.]

we were looking to get high.
delilah and i.
higher than high.
& she knew a guy who knew a guy
who got tapped by the bonesmen a semester or two back,
or so she says.
he had all the goodies; coke, nangs, and dust.
& a small yacht, for a moonlit ****.

             chew this ripe ‘lil nub of apricot plucked,
             it’s a gland in fact,
             best consumed fresh,
             just before death.

high tide, wide eyed, sped on adrenochrome.
we ****** all night, felt god, ****** god,
were god.
thanks,       god.

he said this batch was called “sisters of mercy.”
named for the nuns who farmed it
from orphan kids’ kidneys.

         there are two truths.
         two chakras to pulp.
         one for the masses – schizos & scope –
         the other for the monarchs – the princess & pope –

pineal or adrenal.
house of the moon.
                    vintage, house of blood.

hit the white rabbit.
the mythic psychedelic.
clot. frazzledrip. drencrom.
chromata bomb, have it pure
or synthetic.
pick your path and pray, business or pleasure.

              you know too much,

she said.
& i was dead before the end of the semester.

the genteel men about town prefer to cup the blood.
at least a tarp to preserve the rug.
                           “treasure your blessings, for this is the life. “
                                                               they incinerate the leftover flesh,
                                                                ­               save for a bone or ear,
                                                scattered in the woods at the edge of town
                        for a saturday morning mystery kind of kid to have found.

first son proselytized    – half-past jesus –
second son convoluted      – by the dark lord jeebus –
tricks &/or treats.
sacraments of cancer.
to cultivate within him that harsh old matter.

town & teachers & nurses & nuns.
all watching.
all whispering.
all ******* beneath the desk along your thigh.
take a walk to the library.
fifth floor,
section c,
aisle 3,
somewhere between rites & rituals.
blood opens the gate.
adrenaline opens the dream.

                        hit the white rabbit.

        he abducted a drifter/
        or saint, by the throat
        like an eggplant brought him to the threshold.
        idled there,
        for the conduit to unlock.
        the horror from his        .
        pulled him apart at the ribcage and sac
        just to recover one sacred gland.

he was a luciferian wasp.
or a vampyr in seersucker shorts.
just a man with a taste for blood.
took a bullet to the brain either way,
a man with a hole in his head.

can i simply go on vacation from all this existential dread?
just slip away for a day or two?
Sam Jul 15
the evening rolls in
clouds of pink and purple
the sound smells like roses
the ground purrs when i pet it
touching the soft grass in bare feet
my skin glows with life
my rings are just a blessing that i don't need
i make no sense right now
but i feel content so
i must make sense
the wet pavement sounds like summer
i think i'm in love with you
i can feel your energy
can see it
so i think
i'm in love with you
This dog of a sun
And how it remains
As it stains the hole
Of larklights in blue
Obstinate nuns in the hold
As they fold on forever

What a blessing, Sue
To see vicious sounds
In the halls of commotion
Now we surround
With our teeth, amber glow
As it sows a piece of forever

Fever, fever honey
You know what begets
The regret that you feel
Dance in the garret
Now, I hear in my fear
The hounds of forever

Think of what will never come
And it breaks the hollow sound
Of sweet repetition
Where pain is not mentioned
Hold your lover sweet
And you will fall, complete

See, hear, taste that sibilance eye
I shan't cry, nor state why
For freedom, despite its size
Will fail me in time

Wallace, come here
See the face I faithfully
Made in the image of you
I hope you find
The beauty that you
Have lost to old forever

Goddess, be soft
Know you're not known
By the people that hurt you
Stay in your loft
And let the lamp resound
The drums of forever

Don't fall to greed
By planning for fates
That are best left forgotten
Knowledge will wait
Unlike the sun or the moon
For they deny forever

Think of what will never come
And it breaks the hollow wound
Of sweet repetition
Where pain is not mentioned
Hold your lover sweet
And you will fall, complete

Strenuous, this malarkey eye
Waning clock in tentative sky
Do not take life for granted
Even when not wanted

Strong Héloise
Lay upon me
With your shackled aroma
Let it release
And scatter away
In your piercing gaze of forever

Héloise, come to me, see
That I haven't stopped
My attempts to capture you
On a damp canvas
Of trickling hues
That dare to uproot forever

I'll start with your nose
And give you a pose
That mimics your stature
Rock in your chair
As shadows deface
Your grace, lasting and tethered

Think of what will never come
And it breaks the hollow wound
A sophomore face
With sweet ******'s gaze
These gibbous hours cease
As the day finds peace

Your fur shambles so
Your fingers corrode
As the deluge below
Now blows us into forever
mikhaltsov Nov 2019
spikes in my back
are deeper
than spears 
in his

delving out 
blue pus
neaped beneath
a **** of age

it's my ****
of spinous
on the edge

mansion owner
six six six

post-love pinnacle
tabitha Nov 2019
i'm in the plains, i'm John Wayne, and Jim's got me beaming
they wait for me, no one but me, to scream/shout/break the ice,
subzero prairie air sticks to my breath as i mutter
something about needing someone to love me
it melts my red-hot words into smoke as i speak
my lips crack but don't bleed
it freezes my wounds so they don't leak
good enough for me
i stay out there
for the great release...

Lucy showed me the river of rainbows running deep in my veins,
Molly paraded me through the paths of pleasure saying,
"it's yours to choose, whenever you please."
Jim taught me that good things come with time, just in time
my vices / my mind whisperers

then my palms pop with static, my brain identifies havoc
a humbling wave of logic, there like a zealous paramedic,
snips a clean line through the icy glaze of my delusion.
back from whence i came. this bar. that stool. that night. acting cool.
i come to my own rescue.

emotionalism: subdued
heart's ripping flesh: re-glued
i know i've been runnin'...
not away from but toward somethin,
because the avett brothers warned me about that in '07
i chase, i glide, i soar
searching for something...
not heaven...

i, in all of my aspiring ecstatic toughness,
i   -----  crave
a wicked-good fight beat
molten gold down my throat and then i feel it in my feet
sweet sweet sweet then down down deep
free it, release it, strike thunder
why do we hold ourselves back?
K Balachandran Oct 2019
Distraught, with alien invaded heart
I partied with the night in my thoughts.
Dark, distant and silent as perceived, yet
She was candid,  sweetness personified.
Let me taste swigs of wine from her cup
Sung me a lullaby of  ethereal starlights
Dreams plucked  from nights, she gifted
Weeded out nightmares deeply embeded.
On a dream boat chosen,I set sailed alone
To an emerald island at the middle of
the  ocean,
And made up my mind never to sail back.
Adamant I was not to be out of that dream
Beloved,  ******,  night conjured up for me
With the twist of  her psychedelic finger.
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
The sun sempiternal shepherds its flock life-longly. Repetition be its brother, night be its foe. As regurgitation fumes, funneling heinous broth of decay and hostility, the tedium drips ashore, clenching its claws, raising the congregation of lunatics hellwards and in a moment of inseparable divisionism, bursts out loud, hardening the ground with desecration. Outbegotten and throughbrought, the once ****** ******* feral sons to the demented deity all above and none below, in turning, swirling and the ever-prying agony, facilitate themselves a house atop a hill. After the cacophony concludes, The Fool finds himself standing, thrice woven, wolfmeadow thrown, fistlike tenacity hit, once beholden to each beast of coppered glow. Up he reaches, but finding nought and disillusioned with disinterest he breaks down in acid tears and horrid shrieks for mercy. The inward calibre reciprocates and bursts out a tubular noise of contradiction. In all still-standing, the Queen, she of the all-overseeing, turns to The Fool and parlours him a wisdom: "I am unto you as a universe is unto itself. I am within you as this earth is within me. I am you and you I shall stay. And when you at once turn dust-wards, I shall, bereft but forthlooking, beget you again." Aghast with sudden agonising fragility and from the cosmic incantation a ghost arisen, The Fool in all his momentarily found glory and happiness conjectures himself a vessel to venture upon. What he once missed he now resides in. He found it and now he rejoices. To Youth, at long once and at once forever.
Inspired by GY!BE's "Undoing a Luciferian Towers" and a girl I know, who is obsessed with Boris Vian and all things avant-garde.
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