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Shannon Apr 2015
You want to kiss her.
Lip color makes a sunrise blush-
You have to know
If she'll be soft inside.
You want to taste her,
To figure out,
if she'll dart or will she wallow.
You want to kiss her
but you can't say why.
You want to touch her.
Watch her skin across the room.
You know the hollows-
want to trace them with your thumb.
You'd be so gentle, you'd move yourself
with your deft hand,
you want to touch her-
but you can't see why.
You want to smell her.
Scrub that cheap scent from off her clothes.
Get close and know her
with every sensory she brings.
You want to smell her-
like on the pillow when she leaves.
You need to smell her
but you won't know why.
She makes you achy.
You know the tiny things about her.
You gather pieces,
watching out from under lashes.
You'd wait for timing.
You'd wait for fate to give you courage.
She makes you achy
And you don't fathom why.
She makes you need her and
you can not find
why.

Sahn
thank you for sharing in my work.
Shannon Apr 2015
I'm difficult and broken
-and not at all difficult and broken in that oh-im-so-difficult-and-broken-beautiful way that some women can be.
No.
I'm just difficult and broken in all the **** ways it manifests.

sahn 4/10/15
Thank you
Shannon Mar 2015
Destroy me.
Take what you can from the middle.
Take that golden yellow moon-
that sherbert sunset in the center of how I exist,
**** it, take it!
And Stubbornly I'll be.
When all that is left is bones for the jackal to
satiate on
when all that is heard is bubbles popping
and the jaw creaking
from
the overuse of what was inside me-
When that dark and silken predator
lies lazy on it's back
with my contents fuming in its distention...
destroy me, do.
***** my remains
with huge heaving gusts of your gluttony.
Because you will.
Because I am too heavy to carry, I am too light to settle.
Oh, yes I'll be your posion,
and into every cell I will invade
marching with my army, marching with my anger
I will wiggle in your ear and chew through the pictures in your mind,
eating at the corners of everyone you covet most.
I'll call you in a singsong voice that does not end.
In every room you'll look to hear-
in every corner your try to hide from it.
I will flood your soul with my wrongdoings so you
carry mine as well as yours.
Yes, destroy me-
dust.
And you will perish from my digestion
and you will carry my heavy sins.
Oh, what is left? What is left?
Just the eternal weight of light
and you cannot eat that,
On light you can feast
but not thrive.
It will not still the noise
of the rotting wood
that sits solid and solitary
in the place
where someone stole
your exclusive rights
to feel
joy.


Sahn 3/26/2015
I suppose it's very healthy to explore all of what makes us humans. In any case, thank you for taking time to share in my work.
Shannon Mar 2015
v
I am angry in the way that
bubbles in champagne
rocket towards air.
I am pretty-
in that beige and golden way.
That heat paints my face,
Scolds my cheeks-
like an iron to the crispest collar
of a well-dressed man.
And I am virile in the hot.
Lovely reds and pinks and
eyes that catch-
LaCross nets that
will not meet your gaze
lest you see the squall
I work so hard to hide.
I am breathless with my rage,
and oh, so beautiful! Finally.
In my pain,
I am dry and fragile
brittle leaves crunching underfoot,
the salt left careless by the sea.
Nothing grows in me-
nothing grows in me.
I am dead sea
and beauty floats boastful where
love cannot swim.
For I carry this grief
in the way a river stone
bears the weight of the rushing water.
The lovely
and the ruthless.
The heinous
and the clean....
the very worst of me
is the prettiest to see...
Naked before the judges table
I have no shame.
"Such a pity", they'll say.
"Such a beautiful girl,
all that anger in such a beautiful girl."

Sahn
3/24/15
anger is hard to explore in oneself. it's hard to objective. i believe pure anger can create it's own light which has a certain loveliness. thank you for sharing my work.
Shannon Mar 2015
I wait for the crashing fight.
for the tire screech,
the door slam-
for the lava words
that roll magnificent red from my tongue
and slowly drip ashen black onto the wooden floor between us.
I wait for the broken flute,
tiny bubbles, tiny dreams-
all absorbed by Berber Carpet
and mailbox stuffed
with molehills of mountains.
I wait for the heaving pressures
that blow things upwards,
that blow things inwards.
That makes canyons
and mushrooms
I wait for the fury that turns my eyes
cast with doubt, cast with coal dust.
my lungs puffed with indignation-
so little room to breathe
that I am high from venom.
I wait for the disgust to
wrap around me like a Sunday School wrap-skirt
colorful and ***,
and dropped to the floor without
consideration.
I wait for the hate to be early.
with hope already so foolishly spent on each other,
with faith so carelessly blown away
riding in invisible
paper airplanes-
such are the kisses sent across busy roads.
Waste, waste all these desires of the mundane
when lust drives
outside forces divide,
heat and sinner unite us
and I wait,
I do.

I wait for it to pass.
So as to get to the stuff a day beyond the splintered wood
past the love,
past the lush.
past the lace on my forehead.
I wait for it all to past so as to get myself wholly to you.
For it is not the very last of days
I wait to spend with you,
It is the very all of days I wait to spend with you.


Sahn 3/16/15
you shared your time with me, and i am as always, ever grateful.
Shannon Mar 2015
I'll have you know the movies love me,
they love my lovely face in silhouette
and they say, 'oh you are the reason we do what we do.'
I think you should know the sidewalk loves me,
they heave my great weight effortlessly
and say, 'oh, it's such an honor to hold your burdens up.'
You should probably be aware
that waters love me.
they ****** me in the most intimate places
and say, 'oh how can I not tickle you so?'
and luck, she burrows in the meager coins in my pocket
while she seduces a golden deity
to give me baby prosperities.
Blessings, those scamps, they just adore me!
Ringing and ringing their bright silver bells
so that only I can hear them...
throwing  butterflies down with the rain so the drops
fall
Softly
Down
against
my
skin
because
Time, he seduces me.
He takes me into the strongest hold and tells me stories!
Oh, the stories Time will weave just so I don't leave his lap and-
I'll warn you, the stars are mesmerized by tracing the shadows in my face.
They love to play hide in seek,
they hide in my eyes for days and I can't find them.
And Laugh!
Laugh thinks I am her playmate
and she shares whispers with no other.
With no other that is not
me.
I am loved the universe wide,
I am loved
Far reaches of the sky,
I am loved.
Beneath the sticking blades of grass-
yes, loved there as well.
I am loved,
Now hold my hand and
Love me too.

Sahn
3/11/15
always, ever, gratefully, so.
Shannon Feb 2015
Stringing my words together like
garland on the aluminum tree
whose lights flicker on and off haphazardly
bouncing from silver tin leaf
to silver tin leaf.
I stammer and push them
out with my tongue.
until I become my mama's face
from the effort.
Those words, they push to come out
a labor-
out into the world, newborn babes.
As i sputter and kick them
(no graceful exit
from me).
Yet the lush ones wont leave me,
my throat swallows them whole
with the smooth roundest effortless bite
that they are not.
And my tongue recoils, curls between letters-
hides in the punctuation
rears from the bitter.
So I stumble and
stammer
and quite a fool myself, make.
Gulp until I am knotted  inside
and I leave this foolish talk alone
at the bottom of the sea of bile.
I leave this talk to stronger folk,
or younger folk
or kinder souls than me.
I shut my face door.
Shut it, slam it
and leave this talk to better dreamers than me.

sahn
2/12/15
thank you for sharing in my work
Shannon Mar 2015
I saw you over there, lustful man.
I braided **** ribbons in my hair
so they could make you think
of wrists
and feet
and places of interest.
Ribbons of heat
curling from
the effort of
not watching me.
The devil leaves a sinful man
who fights within himself-
The devil leaves the sinful man to battle
lonesome.
The devil knows what you do not-
you'll never leave as victor.
I pass my glaze of a glance of sigh of a slight turn-
you de-watched me too.
That is to say
you watched me so tightly
you had to un-think me with purpose.
You had to descend on those
deviant rungs
step ****** down,
rung by rung by rung
and you stopped half way
between me up here
and me down there.
and oh! what a glorious place you stopped.
The holy place of me- where I am still a Mary
and a Magdelene?
I've yet to be.


Sahn
3/3/15
Thank you for taking the time to read and share my work.  I am always grateful.
Shannon Oct 2017
I got loadbearing feet.
-18 wheeler legs.
drag my demons and devils
in the tanker behind
I stand tall,
Oh this weight.
"She's a good one,"
they'll say,
not understanding
How fast I can leave.
"If you catch her-
there's  cement foundation
under the moss that
grows over her faith."
Hurricane glass in my ocean gray eyes
I've got steel framed thoracic spine
that holds my haul steady.
I tied down my baggage
with bungee and coil.
I've got road ready feet
as there's asphalt that's burning.
I've got weight bearing soul-
and spare beneath the hood,
I've got to keep it moving though
As I'm just passing through.

Sahn
2/9/15
I am grateful for those who share in the my passion. Please say hello, please feel free to suggest.
Shannon Jan 2015
I want each step to land my foot
tangled heather
ash and soot.
And lead to where the wicked go...
where the darling schoolgirls know
when to turn with redden hue
gasping their  intact virtue.
Yet I long my footfall down-
mossy sinfully buoyant ground.
Run to meet him by the stone
kiss him on it's granite bones.
And he'll swing me wide with wonder
pirate, he'll be, ravage. plunder.
I go where all the good girls shant.
all my christian vows recant.
Yes I will meet him by the river

and onward I keep
through the creeping myrtle, creep-
and the sinners sandbox
and painted ladies swings
(where I rest my chastity case)
that's covered in leather and ******* with lace.
Delight  
as I watch good girls gasp-
as I swing wide hips, wide.
Thier ****** ******* clasps.
And that night will give birth
to a wretched new way
I am wanton
and crafty
and
unwelcome at tables-where ladies
demure
and insist on "no more!"
and
need polite conversations
to endless relations.
I'll roar down that path
like a thundering herd,
like an air stream that carries the weariest bird.
I'm curved, I'm pillowed.
I'm chest out.
I'm willowed...
I'll have holes in my souls
all four of them dotted.
Or six of them spotted?
Like a cat's lives they'll feed
so that reaper, recedes.
It's this path, though, you see them?
The Glories
majestic.
Twined up the tree trunk
and my heart is arrested.
I'm put in the mind of those
sinewy women
and sin
comes in scent
where that glory blooms nightly
and clasp hold of
these moments
of recklessness tightly.

Sahn 1/12/2015
this one is still forming but thanks for sharing my work. check out my blog if you like my work.
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