#cacti
succulent heart only needs a couple of drops every few months
cacti are what I have become
adaptive to the inconsistent
search for storms no matter how violent
just to get that sweet sweet drop
just to feel my heart fill fill up
then leave in the flash, leave it in the past
I have no problem moving on
as long as I get my drops
Apr 20, 2022
Apr 20, 2022 at 12:13 PM UTC
Delivered to us by an optimistic gentleman in a black Stetson cap
who spent his days waving village traffic down with an open hand,
it's been four years since you were sat on the bookshelf in Kath's house.
You stood proud, surveying the fine china made across the border
wrapped up in donated newspaper articles and pristine hand-me-downs,
while my inky fingers welcomed regulars who only ever looked around.
Each weekend we were greeted by bright smiles set in permanent shadow.
Sometimes I declined banknotes on the street for carrying dismantled tables.
I'm still searching for namesakes when perched on local stones above sea level.
Friends like Elvis were divisive figures due to their signature tobacco smells.
Under a green bus shelter, I laughed at his frown about a Midlands town.
Thinking about the rows of vacant church seats still leaves me cold
even now. As I watch needles drop onto rocks and a solitary shell,
your frame shrivels daily and bends you crooked like a question mark.
Oh, Eric - will I ever meet your father again to discuss your burial?
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 11:16 AM UTC
The girls pants were the colour of lava,
The girl loved sweet doom and drama.
The stars in the sky were acid green,
The boy she loved became very mean.
The cacti had peach flowers,
The clouds would endlessly weep for hours.
She lies quietly on her bed,
The weak flower was her dread.
She closes her eyes and dreams of a new place,
Never wanting nothing more to head out into the dark space...
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 7:18 AM UTC
flat land to the horizon
cacti lined streets
sun blinding
mountain peaks like
dragon's teeth
eating cotton candy skies
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
Stop being such a cacti.
I’m only trying to move you into sunlight,
to let you learn, grow.
You were such a cacti
because you peirced me with your blunt needle.
yet I still bled,
because it still peirced me through, and skimmed my bloodflow.
I didn’t cry
because I realised that is just simply you.
You were such a cacti
when I tried to water you, my dear.
I only wanted to keep you alive
keep you radiating.
Keep you, as you.
This time,
your dagger imapled me.
From my finger and gushed into my left chest.
I now understand you
because you won’t hesitate to grow without my nurture,
and won’t hesitate to peirce with my love.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 5:55 PM UTC
Sometimes my chest lies dormant
And the wind whistles for me
Sometimes when I wake up
I can't move my toes
I'm paralyzed but still breathing
The breeze living in my corpse
I know I'm attracted to colors
Those bright vivid oranges
I've got the clouds stolen
I stole them; they're between my teeth
My goosebumps kick me down pennies
I scrape them off the sidewalk
Begging for a change
To change what I mean
Into what you see
When you see me
And my shadow lagging behind
Dragging its prickly feet
Praying for the love
To pick me up off the cliff's edge
And drop me
And when I'm falling
I'll finally say
I like your glasses
And your freckles remind me of the stars
And your eyes are just like the moon
And maybe I could fly if I could just
Forget that we're gonna die
Tomorrow
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
---
fuzzy denizens of desert
strange, unearthly, every one
they wake up softly to the morning
reaching up to find the sun
saguaros, huge, regal, majestic
silent in their special ways
pincushions the size of quarters
brush protect from the sun's rays
from the blazing heat of noontime
to the freezing winter's gloom
these living jewels survive the onslaught
even burgeoning with blooms!
looking out from my front porch there
I see a bird who's home is made
within the side of a saguaro
within its chicks get warmth and shade
I see beavertail and golden barrel
mammalaria in special pots
lining up along the ledges
of where I sit, my favorite spot
before the sun has even risen
this is my safe and holy place
then i feel the creeping warmth
of the sun upon my face
this is where I worship singing
though the neighbors find it odd
this is where I thank my Maker
this is where I talk to God
SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/11/2016
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
The birth of our day.
All fresh and touched with
The Master's hand
in dewy majesty.
The shell of sky
wet with foamy clouds.
The earth awaits wheeling birds
to rest again - benign in the
trees of their birth.
Burbling and raucous
in their boisterous
roosts.
Cacti creep along the
last vestiges of the
velvet night.
A coyote laughs.
He makes his lone way
up the still, starlit, streets.
And all is embraced by the
embarking orb emanating for eons
from the eastern estuaries.
I write upon mornings
because they are the marks of time
upon beginnings.
The new year begins at midnight.
But the new day?
ahh... the new day begins
with the
SUN.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/29/2015
all rights protected
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
~~~<♡>~~~
a rose, they say, will have a thorn
which can't destroy nor ****
it only serves to give its bloom
a scent that's sweeter still
when the tender growing thing
is planted in the dust
no water for it's thirsty roots
only drying crust
it will be a cactus
full of prickly spines
but cacti have their flowers
their fruit can make rich wine
we all have our emotions
we all can feel pain
but when it makes us better
then only love remains
when we are hurt and wounded
on my very oath
we can still be grateful
such stoic trust brings
GROWTH
soulsurvivor
(C) 9/3/2015
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
I dream of permutations and of potted cacti sitting on crystal shelves.
I listen for melancholy silence and I pray that hope and peace of mind tiptoe gently around splintered frustrations.
I want to see the hot sun beat down on prickly green skin until it feels whole again and flowers bloom from its head.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
This is what's meant by faith
This is what I believe
I do not need the pictures
because my heart will never leave
It hurts to look away
The kingdom of my love
My siblings here give off the smell
of rain that falls from above
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
I don't know if it's natural
I don't know if it's real
All I really know is
how it makes me feel
when I feel empty
it makes me feel full
and all I know is that
it's beautiful
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Love poems are stupid,
Because in only a few months time
They’re likely falling to pieces;
Out of juice, out of line.
However, I’ll still write in my spare time,
But would rather focus on cacti,
Because no one gives them
Their time to shine.
I love you, sweet cactus
How you love when the sun shines,
I love you, sweet cactus
Your agave so devine.
I’d rather write about a cactus
All prickly up it’s spine,
Because that cactus is alive,
That cactus is mine,
That cactus will last
Longer than you and I.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
"While its true that these plants are tough, and can usually survive under such circumstances, most certainly will not thrive."
Don't forget there's a difference between
existence
and
sentience
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 7:21 AM UTC