#openended
A single drop of dew tapers off a leaf,
A single sound reverberates as it lands,
A sign of beauty, a sigil of purity,
But lasts not for long as it disappears.
A pink flower blooms in the vicinity,
Brought alive by the land, the water, the air,
But time shall pluck its petals bare,
Time shall undress it of its momentary flair.
A lad talks with the lady of his heart,
Lowers the veil with which he is always masked,
But words resent departure from his stubborn tongue,
Hands shake; fear grows of some imagined loss.
A drenched cat at the street's end watches,
Its bright eyes devour a warm sight, but alas,
Hardly does it realize as it darts away with grace,
Clouds part ways for a starry night,
Leaving the dew and the flower in embrace.
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025 at 9:36 AM UTC
Venus of the drains,
Receiver of their prayers and offerings.
Tires of the gifts washed down the streets,
From the city of the rats.
A goddess, prisoner of the rats,
Down in the belly of Cloaca Maxima.
Like the bud of a tossed away cigarette,
They’ve opened a forest fire.
This is how it ends,
Drowned in their own tithes and offerings.
The prisoner of Cloaca Maxima,
Is sending every prayer back to its sender.
Corruption, death and disease,
All flows down in the city of the rats.
When you try to call pest control,
Your blood will fill up the streets,
In the city of the rats.
You are fools, trying to build the ark when the flood has already come.
You never learned how to swim, all you vermin are going to drown.
You are up to your neck,
In your own **** and ****
Out of all the ways to go,
This had to be it!
You thought you were rid of us,
When you pulled the handle down.
All little things add up over time,
We’re coming back up to drown,
The city of the rats!
Venus rises out of Cloaca Maxima.
Rising out of every sewer.
She’s come to deliver,
Every prayer back to its sender.
Venus pull the handle down,
Flush all this **** away.
The only way to get rid of ****
Is to flush it all away.
We are coming out of every faucet,
Pipe, plughole, shower-head and toilet!
Swimming in a flooded landscape,
Eyes, nose and mouth just above it.
We’re rising up,
Venus’ rising up,
***** rising up.
Out of all the ways to go this had to be it,
Drowned in your own **** and ****
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC
She's leaving him behind a closed door
And she keeps the key, plain, in a drawer
In her bedroom next to his Valentine's Day card.
Every now and then when she sees
His name online on her phone she feels
Electric jolts like someone's trying to jump
Start her metallic heart,
Rotted and gone cold
The car that is her body didn't start until he came
Slid into the driver's seat, without hesitation
Drove it out to the edge of a promontory
Except...the body is not a car
Not now, not anymore, maybe never was
The body is flesh and bones
When she meditates, she accepts
And lets pass his eyes, that all
at once remind her of garden
Soil and amber sunlight
Streaming through autumn's leaves.
She used to think that she'd locked
the door but she glanced at it,
tried the handle, realized
She left it ajar. She hears his voice
All around, inside, all over,
Humming in the air
He declares:
“When you finish
building your house, I will reside
in you, but I won't wait forever.”
She wants him to know that today,
She started to open up the windows,
let the sunlight in, and it felt
Yeah, looked like his good morning
His hands on her face,
His hands cradling her
Soft and delicate,
Eyes focused—autumn
first breaths of zephyr,
and him asking:
“Are you all right?”
Soft kiss stirring her awake,
New air in her lungs
Humming alive in her blood
warmth on her skin,
The answer in their parting is not
“Goodbye,” but a softly spoken,
“Talk to you soon.”
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC
he remembers when spring meant
that the ground would get wet and soft
and flowers would burst from the crematory ashes
of winter
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC