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 Jun 2021 alex
Sylvia Plath
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a **** lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
 May 2018 alex
Pablo Picasso
navigator’s balcony cocktail hour
rocket orbit ocean liner rising
clenched no teeth no guernica no bam bam bam
correspondent notary republic
address book dial figure 8
charred with a thousand jigsaw pieces
false as a beach chiaroscuro black
on black graveyard womb naked milk glass lit
footprint tourism by candlelight and flare
vaccination fatigue puke fingernail fish
moving a bandaged echo **** him **** her
familiar bell music **** them both **** them all
stretched shirtsleeves spanish toffee slashed tires
(failure as a painter he shaved his wife’s fur coat)
bust your ***** Barcelona red alert
knock-kneed broken squeezebox no hands
standing room only ladies first (please)
unbuttoned interrogation coffee rolls (stop)
marine’s vegetation (stop) early morning tea (stop)
armless menus (stop) pink cathedral fingers (stop)

and (begin again) move

we move

moving inside an eye this eye
that advances step
by step
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
Something I've been working on for a long time on and off since 2015.
 Nov 2016 alex
complexify
we are descending
into an era where we
can ever see the truth again.

we are immersing
in a pool of black ink
and cold sharp pain
all over again
blinding us.

we are serenely
killing ourselves
drowning inside with no oxygen
to breath, to take in

we are decelerating
and the illusions won't stop
the fear won't disappear
and death is
the sound we'll never hear.
idk, trump won :(
 Nov 2016 alex
Allan Mzyece
Desert dust, Broken past, Hidden lust; all flew away as I took a glance at the girl who held a knife that was set for my life
Tonight I dont know if I will survive
All I know is that I am in Love
with one who loves to **** and I love to Write
there is a huge difference
She will be my death sentence

She licked my neck and said "my friend you're dead!"
She stuck the blade right in my chest
To her suprise I had no blood
She was so afraid
We made eye contact and I kissed her a sweet goodnight

Days but ago,
I lay dreaming of death, woven sharper than my woman
I never knew fire could shape ice
I write and she kills
I rhyme and she takes on the thrills
Hopefully no blood spills

Love, Love, Love, I survived my Serial Killer Wife!
Take, Take this Life, If I dont love my Serial Killer Wife!

Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!
eternity!!!!!!!
I live for you baby!!!
 Nov 2016 alex
Frankie Newton
blink
 Nov 2016 alex
Frankie Newton
blink

the stars
the surface of
far galaxies
the touch
of a lover
the sigh
of stolen moments
laughing
at imagined conversations

this

you

blink*

I'm sorry,
I saw the stars and of things I don't think I shall ever see or feel.

you were saying?
 Nov 2016 alex
robin
runt
 Nov 2016 alex
robin
just a child hidden in the tall grass
trying to grow tall enough to leave the safety of
my mothers den
i am young and dumb and all of those stupid things
but i want to be brave
just like you
show me how to breathe without your lungs
breathing for me
help me learn how to stand tall, on my own two feet
teach me how to grow in all the places they
*never thought i could.
don't abandon ship
 Oct 2016 alex
milo
i stood out in the middle of the road in the california smog
paved concrete over a desert, we wonder why it doesnt rain
i dont think ill leave here.

i want to go to a natural cemetery, no graves
the earth will be soft and all that will be left is nature, overgrown
they helped build it and i will too.
all my poems as of late hav been mortuary ****
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