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erin Oct 2018
i think i often represent the butterfly i so often speak of
frail and weak in every step- my plain brown wings are just like the papery disgusting skin i want so badly to break out of, revealing my clearwinged beauty. but i've adapted to this form- i've changed. who cares for being disgusting- better to simply scare away the predators with my big nose and buggy eyes. who cares for being unloved- i do, for solitide is survival in this concrete jungle.
but i know better.
i am no graceful, gentle butterfly. satyrs are still lovely, despite being different, and i am not lovely. i know that these white wings cannot and will not be silenced. the beating drum behind me says otherwise. i am not butterfly. i am a falcon, and i do not dare hide behind a mask of a face. no-

i fight and claw my way out of it.
this is really more of a vent than a poem, but i still feel something important in it. i hope you enjoy.
Kathleen M Jul 2016
Guthrie is a man made of garbage
His dreams they rot and leak
He has banana peel hair
Hes got old martini olive eyes
But did you see him before the light died
Years ago
Way back to a time when charm and wit flowed freely from his mouth
His tongue a silver spoon
His dealing hand like a golden talon
Tryna ***** the light out
His feet the vehicle taking him to paradise
He says "you only live once, better live the burning life."
SassyJ Feb 2016
(B)
Cacophony vocal cords turned inside out
Folding back upon themselves in cruel creases
Vibrations resonating in strained harmonies
Against the dire fabric of my delirious oblivion

(J)
I stomp your echoes as they travel through light
Unleashing my fangs to sting your roaring mess
Frequencies lowered from baseline to internal signal
To form a wave at the quilted patch you weaved

(B)
Disregard all visualized fear firmly penetrating realms
Of thickening white-hot spirit a roiling boiling crucible
Inflamed fiery fleshly folds of terminated temptations
Drawing your musky draught drinking your toxic brew

(J)
Your sight announces epiphanies of me sinking deeper
A manhood you portray is my repatriation, prepare the shovel  
Ruin me I plead! Packet and send me down to my casket
You can't stitch me, I am twitching, itching, iced in sorrows

(B)
Clawing at the world, hissing, spitting my deep disdain
My every defense mumbling, crumbling into its derelict dust
Welcoming my inevitable defeat, my tattered, blood spattered
White flag flies, surrendering all to hail the conquering pain.

(J)
The flag waves in bloodied winds, you wing wading wounds
Trying to reach snowy mountainous top, the ascending sledge
We fall inverted bumping, exposing our cranium, posing in disgust
Hold this hawk talon scratch the earth, its the only hope you hold
I am open for One a week collaboration till March 2016. Interested? Leave a comment or message me. The pens are really running low... 5  more people are needed!Ladies where are you????

No 4. One a week series collaboration with Bill Hughes
Bill's word is an asylum and his expressions his sanctuary. Bill has got a huge heart and he has been superb to me and my muse. My muse greatly appreciates his support and kindness. When I nearly deleted my account Bill demanded for me to sit on the thought and not make rush decisions. He ended up deleting his old account.
Bill and Mydystopia have  remained a great support here at HP .... when I felt my voice was so faded and irrelevant they gave me strength and motivation to experiment with different sounds. I cannot thank you guys enough... always in awe.
This piece was very transmuting, when we decided to explore "melancholy" at it's best we didn't know where to begin. But we had a base eventually and words and emotions coiled. This piece took nearly 3 weeks as often I find it hard to express melancholy. But we got there eventually!!!!

To view Bill Hughes melodies please visit his site at: homepage: http://hellopoetry.com/bron-hicks/

Bye Melancholy.... I am playing my happy song (Land Down Under by Men at Work) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfR9iY5y94s

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