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Andrew Rueter Aug 2020
Chasing darkness
surmising depth lies in the depths
trenches are dug in craters
the holes we dig make us special
so we keep on digging.

Subterranean cranium
head in the sand—soul buried in soil
paying the undertaker in advance
the shovel feels lighter once it's smoothing the dirt
guarding the top of the grave.

Coffin solitude
dormant tears loosen the Earth
         the clay dam breaks
jailbreak mudslide
birthed from a muddy womb
crying, gasping for air.

We cleanse ourselves in the healing waters of time
donning our Sunday best for church
joining the choir boys standing at Jesus' feet
singing a chorus of denial
"I never asked for this".
beneath the earth's soil
a vast network of roots lay
which succor plant growth
they ingest the loam's good food
through their subterranean sprouts
Max Southwood Jun 2016
Scream into the darkness
Without a sound
Weakling
Powerless miscreant

Buried by ash
And trampled by a thousand footsteps
A thunderous roar rips through the night
My desire to reconnect is devoured
By my craving for...

Subterranean hedonism

Exhausted from the surface
I burrow into fantasies of sunken darkness
I have tried to blend into the world
But people continue to dissapoint me

Bones ground to ash and thrown to the wind
My last burials rites
I had hoped it wouldn't come to this
But there is no hope...there is only me
These are lyrics for a song I wrote back in late 2012, early 2013. I'm not sure why, but they've always stood out to me as being some of my favourite.
Liam C Calhoun Jul 2015
My ***** felt a feather heavier than iron
As I’d opted for anything other than rollover
Whilst puking up that, “nicer,” guy.

The drink’s a ghost. The scold’s a mixer,
Soured on the rocks, Shaken, not stirred,
Stirred, not shaken,
And without a sliver of, “he,” who’d opt
Accommodate or acquiesce.

Call it, “transcendence,” I guess?
Born a realization that this world’s,
“DOG-EAT-DOG,” or,
“GOD-EAT-GOD,” or,
“GOD-TEA-DOG,”
And should I not comprehend
This very simple reality,
I’d be a doormat unto my own grave.

So I fail, I’m frail, and all for one tail
Prior the act that’d ever invoke,
“Leave;” even atop the eve of beggary.

Resolute? I’d opt for the longer life, perhaps,
Not that I’d wanted to live to long anyway,
But I’d made a choice,
I’d arbitrated one cardinal direction – elliptical.

I’d acted, placated, satiated, intimidated,
Decimated, defecated, wiggled my right pinky
And culminated a prayer atop altars, “godless,”
To never knock upon that door again.

And so, but one question remains,
“Did I?”
*Wrote this on a whim at "Peabody's" in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. She bet I couldn't, I bet I could.*
AD Mullin Nov 2014
A one thousand page hymn
singing from lotus petal pages
bound on hummingbird wings

Subtle energies
unfolding, unfurling
unwinding within

Celestial prophecies
unrooting in elements
of oceans of water of air

Gaia and Uranus
blooming from
aetheric nests

Subterranean spelunking
unweaving a gossamer cloak
from plumes of the Red-Tailed Hawk
Written in Encinitas, CA at the Lotus Cafe

— The End —