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Kyra 2d
I have never felt right,
writing this poem.
They keep saying
that I'm "strong".
I don't feel strong.
I feel...

like ripping off my skin
wouldn't be enough
that breaking my hands
couldn't help

I feel lost.
The lion has left me.
Time spirals upward
level after level
an ascension of ability.

Perhaps I smolder with inadequacy.
Lost angel in the female order
evading the ultimate aim
of a woman.

Some secrets are
a stained glass pane
a holy station of benevolence.

I was tempered
in the seething heart of knowledge
my soul knows past lifetimes

when I plunged chubby feet
into fur-lined boots
lit a fire to cook
watched smoke
circle upwards into night
heard our herd of reindeer
stamp and snort in the snow

prayed for strength
as winter prowled outside our goahti.

Finding myself poorly suited
for motherhood
I opted out this time around.
Inspired by the Tarot cards Three of Cups + Empress and a past life regression.
Your mission:
Commission peerless tools.
The world merely spinning
has thrown you for a loop.
No more will you react as
tempted by your stimuli.

Who are you today?
- How about tomorrow?
Will you succumb to fear

as it follows
you in step?

Who are you today?
Who are you tomorrow?
Will you succumb to fear

as it follows
your every step?

Your plan:
Understand your soul is your
pulp, press it in pages,
rewrite the tales you tore.
No more will you lend your pen
for the sake of sympathy.

Who am I today?
- How about tomorrow?
Will I succumb to fear

as it follows
me in step.

Who am I today?
Who am I tomorrow?
Will I succumb to fear

and so repeat
all my mistakes?

My mission:
soften my gaze
into the glare
of my enemy's
fevered eyes.
Shed a tear for
persons wayward,
put my head to their
pointed gun
& die

laughing,
echoing,
forever
in time
& time
tempers
you into
death as I.
Tim Jordan Jan 4
This is a hieroglyph in the middle of the ocean,
a message to the center of space,
it is Stravinsky in a metal box;
a prayer in the grave.
It is not to be heard, read, or felt,
but is sent out into the darkness
like the wheezing breath from my last cigarette ,
the chill of the last river I altered with my step,
the forever in the space between our eyes,
and the time machine of you and I.
There is a snap of electricity that moves you from here to there
and there is our world in the hollow spaces of your brain.
You are the blood, you are the marrow,
you are in my depths and in my narrows.

There was a little boy who saw a tail on the sun,
wandered into the wrong back door
and stumbled out the front
with a pocket full of kisses,
and there was a girl who was far from home,
tiny hands and full of wishes.

Close your eyes.

Do not read this next part.
It's a secret I cannot share.

There is a picture that I look at often and it is of a ridge of mountains,
snow on top, jagged edges like a page ripped from a magazine
and I know now what I didn't know then
that after I snapped that shot everything would change,
that I would go home and become something I never could be again,
that I would discard gods like tissue
and drive my car as fast as it would go in the rain,
that I would share this picture on a tilting Saturday night
with a sigh and the subtle rustling of metal and cloth,
a susurration settling over us like a shroud,
and that I would surrender myself to the chaos,
lose everything within our delicious destruction
and spend the rest of my life wondering where all the pieces of me landed.

This is a riddle you are not meant to understand.
This is a Celtic Cross spread by a dead man's hand.
"One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star." Friedrich Nietzsche
Marsh Orian Jan 3
I feel insecure
I lose faith
I give in
Repeat x3
Marsh Orian Jan 3
Dreaming quietly of my fantasies,
We are in all of them.
But what “we” are is so confusing,
I don’t know where I stand.
Groggily, under the night sky,
I look between the moon and its reflection.
Dipping my hand into its soft light,
I realise it doesn’t really matter which way up is.
some musings on The Moon Reversed through the lens of my crush on someone
aj Dec 2018
the two of cups
spoke for the two of us
what more is there to say?
what more is there to do than trust?
that the two of cups
is the two of us
Inspired by a tarot reading or two
Anonymous Freak Nov 2018
The Fool signifies new beginnings,
Because only a fool would want
To start over.

I feel like a fool.

I told your mother
My plans for our wedding,
I named our child,
And dreamed up fantasies
To whisper in your ear.

I imagined
A magical land,
A large bed in a small apartment,
Fat cats to purr beside us,
And warm blankets
Tying our bodies together
As we twisted and turned in our sleep.
And windows,
I would have to have windows.

They say life is a highway
We’re in two cars
Speeding toward each other
With our necks sticking out of the windows,
Trying to find a way
To gently collide
Without dying.
But we’re going too fast,
So fast
The breath has been ripped from my lungs.
Get ready to crash.

My older sister said,
“Everyone has a list.
Every person has things about them that are bad,
You’ve just got to find someone who's list you can deal with.”

You’re passion.
You are filled with passion in every thing you do.
You have passion in your loneliness,
And in that you have desires.

Beginning again is horrible,
It’s erasing the bad with the good.
It’s seeing where the beautiful memories and the horrible mistakes weave into each other,
And burning both.
Only a fool would begin again.

But I’m a fool.

A fool
For you.
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