Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2015 urushiol
Joanna Oz
 Apr 2015 urushiol
Joanna Oz
sun sizzle pop-rock hopscotch round the rowdy block of troubled spots,
and iron-lock your dirt-soaked sock to a gumdrop your friend forgot the last time you stopped to watch the lilies bloom
in slow motion loop-de-loos.
sinking smooth waterloos,
darling just look at you! beaming with gooey honey dripping sooloos -
woohoo baby!
the lazy river bends her neck to spend extra time with the water bed,
so shed your excuses and wear your heart on the tippy-top of your head,
if it falls, mend it by sending ends of threads spinning fractal patterns round the edge,
crafting a hand-patched garden to bake batches of laughter from.
latching your fingers, pull and tug those weeds into soot underfoot tearing remnants of long lost looks your lover took and shook off your balcony in a hazy dream.
alchemy your bones to seeds
and feed them with tears of gold sweet memories.
reading poetry from socrates thumb
won't translate the sacred humming running through your chest,
only you can sing the refrain of broken hymns and lift the soul from the rims of the black hole pit.
the universe lives in you, don't forget.
stream of consciousness poem
 Apr 2015 urushiol
I play six clicks to you,
like I used to look for
Jesus on Wikipedia,
when I find my
weary fingers wandering
into my healing wounds again,
digging the cursor across
bruises and sutures to
links so you won't
show up in my search bar.

I can play pretend too,
like all the college students
haunting the streets,
moving straight faced
and dead eyed past
the homeless people
holding their heads and
fighting their hunger.

Your newly pierced nose
sniffs out my high blood pressure,
sweaty nervousness, and
***** haired demeanor;
the shivering mourning dove
perched atop rubble
sings out shaky poems to
your roommate.

You've walked into a new room
and I'm standing in the hallway,
trying to figure out which closed door
I'll find you behind,
pulling each one open in turn
only to hear another swing shut in
some ******-Doo style pursuit.

I keep your memory in my pocket,
a tattered pin-up photograph, to
pull out and glance at occasionally
with glazed over eyes and
a drool dripping mouth.

How does the other side of your bed feel,
so full and pumping blood?

We both jumped in after eating,
but you keep swimming and
I find myself on the
shoreline once more,
grabbing for a towel,
trying to push the water
from my own lungs.

A pair of tan underwear
lives in my dresser,
splattered with stains
from the **** you
keep in your backpack.

I still wear them,
and I can't help
but think of you.
This is probably too honest for the internet but here goes everything
 Nov 2014 urushiol
Ada Cambridge
O sweet darkness, still, and calm, and lonely!
Spread thy downy pinions round about.
Spare me from thy hidden riches only
One dream-face; blot all the others out.

Bring him now, for thou hast power to free him,
From that ugly garb he wears by day;
Bring him now—my darling!—let me see him
Ere the tender kindness pass away.

O sweet night-winds, wandering in the larches!
Sigh, and croon, and whisper as you creep;
Sing my songs through green cathedral arches,
While the weary workers are asleep.

Snarl and fret not of the grief and passion;
Sing in minor cadence, sweet and low;
Sing of peace and rest, in soft wind-fashion—
Of the love and faith I used to know!
 Oct 2014 urushiol
Cell phone shield in hand,
the mirror-me peers
into a shoddy, cracked up
dream reflector-slash-protector
as I make amends with
my agitated mitochondria and
attempt to drill miniscule holes into
paper dolls without ripping them.

So screams the wall hanging!
Banshees dance, falling
into cyclical romances as
cream colored microphones peek
out around one-way windows wondering
whether or not the smiles will hold.
Eyes still,
eyes wrinkles crinkling,
spit spray sprinkling.
Connect to the dreamers.
Push your plug into
my cracking wall sockets,
pull me apart at the seams.

So cries the doorstopper!
Knees bleed from
street corner séances
and eyes green grass
that's afraid to ask
where its clover went
but heavens, it's bent for hell.
Pray tell me, burping chickadee,
when did your teeth glass over
with a film of cerulean and
your bones start sailing
through tepid reminders that
you may end this life a failure,
swallowing Uncle Ben's rice packet trash
at the dark black bottom of the Pacific?

So sighs the statue!
Broken walkie talkies
feed red back to nothing
and knick knack hoarders note
the familiar festering of deadly bacteria
in the lungs and on the
tippy top of the tongue.
Space cadets rocket
through concrete jungles containing
apartment after
apartment after
apartment filled with
mannequins filled with
sand filled with
unevenly severed hands.

So speaks the ornament!
So declares the dashboard decal!
Sensual scholarly seekers
seem so totally hip
and read feminist poetry
to dispel the myths
and spit on the irony.
I won't dare to flatter you
with the focused attention of stone
or allow the personable picture frame
to make the secrets of
the microscopic universe known.

So suggests the ship siren!
So recites the repository!
Empty yourself into me,
adopt a new philosophy,
abandon in within two weeks
so I can see and you can seep,
your fluttering robin heart to keep
and glaciers to arrive upon
a salty brown eternal sleep.
Deliver me to the melting shopping mall!
The centennial fire alarm goes off
at the tip of the cliff,
at the end of the hall.
 Oct 2014 urushiol
Come on, you say to me,
help to **** the soil dry of
deep, muddy clays made by
colonial lullabies and
forgo your selfish thoughts
of suicide in favor of a
dark grey summer salad coupled with
a nuclear fish fry.

Unleash a cosmic sigh, I
bleed to breed  my human seeds and
cultivate forests of ***** while
pulling up deliciously
edible weeds who sing
laughing limericks we
care not to listen to and
languishing warnings we
care not to heed.

Me and you, baby, let's
build a box made of
ticky-tacky in the back of
some skeletal, suburban
cul-de-sac, crafted over a
cesspool vat of human feces,
spicy DDT and industrial-grade

Apathy towards the life source
breeds apathy towards corporate force
breeds disgust, killing the serpent and
reclaiming the horse, tossing the
apple, preparing for the worst.

Pile up pounds of gold and
crowns to assign money a meaning
and postmark letters filled with
plastics and post-its with
scrawled in felt-tipped pen to
peoples perched on the edge
of the planet, to whom
time gave rhymes from learning to
lay their ears down in the
dirt and succumbing to the
the devil wearing a blood-stained,
starched, white shirt.

Dilute the base of me with
an acidic you, quick, pollute
the river so salmon scurry
downstream and the arduous algae
dries up, screaming.

I wonder if the taker can
become the giver.
fire spitting mouths
ashe stained lips veiny
and engorged, hard loving
is easy for misanthropes
self aware narcissistic
tendencies to the insomniac
life full pleasures and pains
never realized smokey eyes
of an ember beast touched
never felt God in the
Kingdom of Heaven
glass roofs, cracked
cadenced inner light
dimmed and whimpering
 Oct 2014 urushiol
Jake Meizell
If you hate me for my burning hair please forgive my eyes
If you cringe at the sound of my voice remember the waves of my face
I'm sorry I'm a ghost to you, a nightmare of mistakes, missed chances and empty "I love yous"
But I'm sorry I'm backwards, I only know the man not the ghost
 Oct 2014 urushiol
I'm gonna be
Ebola for Halloween,
Watch out *******.
Burning my popcorn is
The reason I have trust issues.
Being dressed in theme
Quadruples your chance of getting laid.
Nothing makes me feel manlier.
I feel so unaccomplished in life.
Is anyone else afraid of
Ending up alone?
Every other night
I question my choice of major,
If I will be able to get a job.
I have to be successful because
I love expensive ****.
When life gives you lemons
You paint that **** gold.
If you're trying to find
A ******* Tinder...
Tinder is pointless.
Virginity drinking game.
Boys in a tent who are waiting,
Can I come in?
Having fun isn't hard when
You've got a library card.
To whoever left a flower on my bike last night,
Reveal yourself so I can
Give you the biggest hug.
That made my day.
I made this out of a bunch of posted "Yaks" on the app Yik Yak from my university.

— The End —