"acrid" poems
Above the caldera at Yellowstone,
a brittle soil-rock crust
caps a lake of liquid fire
with only fumaroles and roiling geysers
to slake its upward ******
A single heedless step is enough
to breech that mantle's fragile seal -
spelling death by fire
to any hapless soul
who fails to guard his steps.
Fragile calderas also roil
buried in dark crevices of our psyches -
brewed of failures, slights and fears
dissolved in fiery pools
of self-consuming misery.
To dress and salve our wounded souls
we plant fertile gardens of reconciliation
with beauty, trust and charity
and kneel to gods of grace and solace.
But a despot’s practiced eye
knows how to tap our fragile crusts,
releasing acrid lava flows
from pools where fear and rage reign hot,
and reason has no district.
Friends and siblings - my flesh and kin,
this world is ours to lose or save
so let us seal well our Sacred Calderas
from bitter foes that stalk us from within.
July, 2006, revised December, 2014, 2015 and 2018
Robert Charles Howard
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
Listening ears don't come easy
Most come with mouths harbouring wagging tongues
Pouncing on the chance to retell your story
Exploiting your need to empty acrid lungs
Listening ears, they're indeed very rare
Unidentifiable no matter how well you know
Lurking behind a mask of concern and care
Sweet words employed so your cards you'd show
Listening ears could be just a myth
An idiom to quench the thirst to confide
Listening ears sometimes come with fangs for teeth
Hungering and lusting for your trust and pride
Listening ear, oh why you come with a mouth so foul
Why the cunning trickery and unscrupulous deceit
Kindness as bait, when in fact you prowl
Many none the wiser until they are bit
Listening ear, in you I gave my trust
I bared my innermost and gave my all
Hoped that you'd soothe my ailing crust
Instead you lifted me high only to watch me fall
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
*towering gently overflowing with heightened awareness
subtle hints of blade’s keen glittering chiseled edges
untamed rugged surface powerfully averts gale’s acrid tempest
vigor pulsating that doth persuade the cloud’s reflections
if i shall not again embrace a meager glimpse; a demure echo
of thine towering mounts my soul shall ever suffer
my spirit soars with e'er one glance of thine majestic presence
replete with reminiscence seasons stir and beg thine tender mercies
to house the changing leaves at dusk of autumn’s auburn portraits
and give birth to crystal snow cascading peripherally in winter
which melding into spring then begs thy bluffs to cover
in soft amethyst of columbine blossoming first light of summer
‘tis not paramount to scale high aloft thine peaks in escalation
for small sheer glances stamp forever with imperial impressions
and ‘tho i’ve traveled ‘round and savored nature’s varied essence
none can compare thine evergreens laced in aspens nuance
my breath is gone and shan’t return ‘til in thy shadow casting
i stand and look upon thine hallowed face the rocky mountains
©2016 janetaylor
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 4:42 PM UTC
Dry winds of monsoon rainless
Caress my little hair idly
Fire crackers acrid painless
Waft up quite widely
The elements treat me fine
Yes, they are all democratic
Often verging on divine
Tho’ folks call em lunatic
Bother not, friends
Folks are easily dumb
That’s how it ends -
Tom, **** and a thumb
Tho’ nothing might augur well
Keep being until groundswell
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
Shhh...can you hear me?
I'm hardly a pin
I'm hardly a mile away
Shhh...do you know the pain I'm in?
Look...can you see me?
I'm hiding behind shadowed eyes
And a mask of smiles
Look...will you look past the honest lies?
Taste...can you palate the bitterness?
Sharp and acrid accusations
Dancing on wagging tongues
Taste...will you swallow what is given?
Touch...can you feel my failing muscles?
Every fibre losing this very battle
A futile fight I must concede
Touch...will you save the pieces that crumble?
Read...can you make sense of my heart?
Pounding behind its bony cage
Pumping red into my desperate nib
Read...can you understand the ink staining my page?
Shhh...can you hear me?
I don't think you can
For I have ceased to speak
In the universe of man
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
‘You’re so wet for me baby’ they say
‘You’re not saying no’
Rinse repeat
It hurts I say
‘That’s normal ‘
It is what it is what it is what it is
My words stop
‘You’re so quiet’ they say
If I unzip my abused vocal chords I won’t be able to stop the noise
Keening screaming bursting like a dam
It’ll fill up my head
My ******* bone marrow
Where do I begin and where do you end flush against me
I am good at being quiet
I am good at being small
I am good at being needed
I am good at pleasing others
I am good at saying yes when I mean;
Stop
Get me out
You are choking me
I can’t breathe
There is blood on my teeth
On my hands
I held you after you assaulted me for the first time and you told me about what was plaguing your mind
So I comfort you
Rinse repeat
Tell you I’ve got you through gritted teeth
Is that so bad is that so bad I am needed so why is it so ******* bad
You fill my lungs acrid and burning
Inhale exhale
Inhale exhale
Wd and vcka coat your lips like a gaudy lipgloss
Wash away the taste of you
Clean my teeth with dettol
Empty my veins clean the dirt and grime away
Trying to forget the way you coat my teeth
Your mouth is so good baby’ you say
It is bad honey and expired milk
It is not being touched since
It is not sleeping
It is wanting to be held but being terrified of the thought
To be held is to be vulnerable
Split me open
Look inside
Apr 25, 2023
Apr 25, 2023 at 8:45 AM UTC
with fangs prepared
we wait
by stepping out cavern of blue thoughts
and into
night sky
lit by glow of stick-end
night sky
carried on the back of an ant
night sky
begs remorse's end
night sky
brings out unsuspecting fools
to dither aimless
to seek nocturnal sweets
yet hunger dangles in ropy clots
undissolved
only to find acrid wind.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
MIST CREEPING SLOWLY
The morning found
only blood & feathers.
The fox leaving
only Death
& its presence
& the gossip of the frightened chickens.
My uncle swearing
‘til the sky was blue
(early morning clouds that the sun shone through) .
An embarrassed ****
like a mad alarm clock
crying like a cartoon “cock-a-doodle-do! ”
My uncle dispatching him
with a quick kick.
“Oh yeah, and where the hell were you? ”
I take in the scene of the massacre
& whisper:
“I sure wouldn’t like to be a chicken! ”
* * *
All that next week
my uncle stalked the chicken coup
waiting for the fox
who was clever enough
not to turn up
until the eight day
driven by his hunger & his nature
she stared into my uncle’s cold metallic sight
& the evil acrid smell of a cartridge caught in flight
as both it & the fox(shot through the head)
fell dead
at my uncle’s muddied boot.
My gentle uncle delirious with Death
the frosted air
stained with his breath.
His voice almost transformed
into an animalistic hoot:
“Hey boy, betcha didn’t know I
could shoot! ”
The good side of the fox’s face
seemed to still laugh
at the very idea of Death.
I whimpered:
“I sure wouldn’t like to be a fox! ”
The countryside
brutal & Biblical
demanding
a life for a life
Yet all I could see
was Death...Death.
Priest-like...
I knelt & whispered
a quick act of contrition
to the fox’s carcase.
My uncle probably thought
I was barmy.
That night in celebration
my uncle wrung a chicken’s neck
(the chicken’s name was Patricia)
& I declined the clean
white breast
still haunted
by the chicken & the fox’s
death.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
Samhain's Eve With Friends
The Lady's light is ripe and full and orange
so heavy the sky can scarce bear her up
as I tread slowly tap tap my staff clicks
my feet in their hurry crush sweet maple and acrid fir underfoot
and the early evening mist grasps at bare tree limbs like heart broken suiters
It's an early celabration Samhain Eve
No Matter
tis me alone and of course The Lady
Slowly I find my stone grove and rest a bit ... price of a Crone
No musicians tonight
Ah the tape will do well enough
No Sisters tonight
too far to come obligations trick or treat ...
No Matter
Circle swept and Caste,Quarters called
next all in turn music soft but building
insence sweet shrouds me
Fire my element crackles and spits with blessed heat
Time to steppe the Circle
This Dance I know so well
This Dance I have taught and danced and dreamt it always
Eyes Closed Cleansing Breathe
Bells on wrist and ankles chime
Now swaying stepping Luna's great course across the sky
once this way next reverse
slowly gently all recedes
there is nothing now but
me and She
She Morghanna Isis Gaia Mother Maiden Crone
My Lady
The flute is faint and hard to hear now
but the drum is strong heartbeat strong slow and deep
suddenly there are voices far yet whysper close
so soft full of laughter and secrets
..ghostly hands Sisters past, lost to me and spirits new entwine with mine and voices long forgotten soar
So Sweet
and my feet so clumsy and slow seem to fly and I hear the flute in the chime of Her laughter
She Has Come
Welcome My Lady
I hear nothing now but the drum and the rush of the wind through my hair
The Drum The Sisters The Fire
and My Lady
Suddenly my step slows no longer is it sure
aware of the stones beaneath and my hand blest but a moment ago now feels the loss of my Sisters grasp
but we are never far from one another
no matter the side of the veil
I tire and stop
the night has waned
the tape has stopped..when I cant recall
Never Mind
Close the quarters with thanks
Sever the Circle
Douse the smudge
and
Thank The Lady for a
Samhain's Eve , with friends
Solita Arcanes ShadoeWalker 31/10/10
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 2:50 PM UTC
These eyes have felt
their fair share of tears that burn
Forgive my eyes for they are yet so green
They have seen much but still they do not learn
These lungs have breathed
The air both fresh and acrid
Forgive them for they are yet so green
They only do what they must when all runs turbid
These ears they've heard
Hurtful promises and whispers that have stung
Forgive my ears for they are yet so green
They're know not to ignore the language of forked tongues
These lips have served
The most callous of opinions
Forgive them for they are yet so green
They can't seem to curb pent up notions
These hands have grown tired
From shielding my tear-stricken face
Forgive these hands for they are yet so green
They're still so afraid to welcome the gift of future days
These legs are sore
For they have travelled far
Forgive them for they are yet so green
They knew better than to enter through doors left slightly ajar
This mind is weary
From thinking of a life meant only for dreamers
Forgive my mind for it is yet so green
They know not of the inexistence of greener pastures
This heart... My heart
Pounding each beat that betrays
Beats with an anvil in tow
Forgive it for it is yet so green
It's having more trouble than it cares to show
This face I wear
A weathered mask I'm unready to shed
Forgive it for it is yet so green
There's still life in it...
For there's yet much to be said
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
He writes words on walls and
toilet doors.
Looping black texta with
measured precision.
Emptying out his importance in
tomes of acrid, sickly-sweet-smelling lapses
into hope.
Cascading the loneliness with litanies
of somewhere else
that pulses with a joy unfound.
Tales of intermittent dreams
and dalliance with beauty.
Strobing in translucent beams,
the light leaks through his
poorly-sewn seams
onto the toilet door.
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
***What if I say, I am not like the others?
Are you afraid of seeing my bloodshot eyes?
It ain’t a delusion of your vision
It ain’t a theory of your hostile mind
Its just an authority to reveal high
As you ****** up in the midnight.
What if I declare, I like to be a pothead?
It ain’t a crime of your filthy society
It ain’t a ****** of your hypersexual beauty
Its just a power to absorb black hole
As you get dissolved in the infinity.
What if we believe, we are united peace?
Our intoxication could never be slayer as your humanity diminishes
Our immune could never be a flame as your democracy fire burns
Our dealing could never be an acrid as your judgments villainous
Our indignation could never be a pretender as your sensibility veiled
Our lonesome shadow could never be a congress of love as your realization mortifies
And our congregation of morality must have been psychedelic painkiller.
What if we deny, we are insignificant existence?
So, who are you crippling our bloodshot eyes, A Social featherbrain?
Who are you to stop having "dopetherone" in the town, A godly crusader?
Who are you to proclaim the rule against your mind, A phrenetic lawyer?
What if we deny, we are insignificant existence?
What if we believe, we are united peace?
We will keep walking with our head held high.***
April' 2015
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
by
rgpage
in this late hour on a mid-august night
the day's torturous heat now just a trace.
with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright
and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate.
naked to the night on a blanket she waits
from a crystal flute she sips her wine.
its acrid taste makes her body brace,
and her silky skin to shine.
our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be,
she's made her nest in secluded style
away from prying eyes, alone in the night
she patiently waits for her lover to arrive.
her warm body bathes in the evening breeze
eyes closed she lets her fingers roam,
her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze
'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown.
laying a hand to her most sensitive spot
the cradle of life's onset if you will,
her first finger eases itself into place,
and deftly a second does follow.
slowly and softly in clockwise rotation
wishing it were her lover's trace;
the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion
her soul now wrapped in silk and lace.
with quiet stealth on an old forest path
her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover,
spotting his sensual prey's silhouette
naked and silent he slips toward his lover.
feeling his presents her eyes slightly open
towering above her as tall as the trees,
she sees her muscular handsome young swain
in time to see him drop to his knees.
leaning in he gives her soft kiss'
his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth,
slowly and gently he brings her along, with a
touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth.
reaching forth and touching his face
and gently pulling him down to her lips,
they lightly touch then drift apart
as he makes his way to her ******* and hips.
the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts,
every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss,
as a hungry lion studies his prey
not a single sound made, nor morsel missed.
seductively firm he leads her to ******
she honors his every wish and whim.
knowing his every move leads to pleasure
from pleasure to rapture time and again.
as the moon crosses over making way for the day,
and the star's disappear in the sun's early light.
our lady awakens alone where she lay
her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
I am not some street cowboy punk
i am a quiet sweet rampant drunk
i play the spoons with the air of a saint
i have a tongue that can swallow paint
sour and acrid, the tone of my voice
i have never left without a choice
punched back sideways
even more today than tomorrow
for your heart i will bed, steal or borrow
Superman don't have ***** on me
don't need no wings now i am free
saving the restless, curing the weak
you can laugh at me when i dance like a freak.
I will kiss you when i drink too much wine
when i am restless and hungry you will be mine
I will do nothing when you are nothing to me
i will drive you crazy with all you can be
no more talkin no more of that ****
i'll hold you apart, break you bit by bit
if you're too polite i'll bite my tongue
i'll whip you and shake you, then i'm done.
carefree to be careless, shareless boy talk
tell me to go and i will surely walk
don't ask me to be kissed or hold my hand
i am not that girl that you left unplanned
i am a midnight demon on ferocious terms
i grasp you and hold you tight and firm.
I am not lost, or fragile or broken bound
i am not looking for someone to make a sound
i am no paige boy scarlet harlot wild child thing
i am not yours, can't you hear your telephone ring?
I am a sordid freak of gigantic endeavours
i will solder your heart regardless of your tremors
i am torturous and painful and weak to the bone
i am the mightiest fallen, can you not see my throne?
i have a **** me, buck me, tie-me-tight gaze
if i look at you slowly, be patient but don't wait
i want everything and all and i want it now
i am no gleaming bronze statue know-all-know-how
i am surely what you ever thought you knew
i am surely what you never thought when i met you
i am free to please anyone at night
i am free to sit and cry by candlelight
alright now, oh baby its all right now
**** me gently and i'll show you how
to be nothing more than anything is something i suppose
but i really can't tell for the state of your clothes
you dress me up slightly more than your vision
i've never met a person with such succint precision
and well here i go, superbly astute and blunt
never did i see such a spectacular *** ****
and well that is really the way that i go
i fly here, there, everywhere i flow
i am not some pretty naieve little thing
i am a mess of entirety with 2 engagement rings
i'm living with despondence and its ******* me off
holy **** batman i hear you cough
come see me, come stay a while
come see me, come see me, and i will **** you in style
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 1:41 PM UTC
You say you’re a ‘boss’, does that mean that I’m God, next,
Time you mess with me you’ll see I have a God complex,
Whatever, I mean this rap’s getting complex,
My effects, they perplex, my ego’s getting convex,
I could say that I’m strawberries but I’m much more like lime,
Acrid, like acid, I rhyme, I’ll keep my clothes on that’s fine,
Your sexisms pasts it’s prime, Gatsby’s acts aren’t fine,
Calling me out is a crime since you’re completely irrelevant,
The orders are mine, YOU strip but you best make it elegant,
I can take off my clothes for fun and still be ******* intelligent,
Dodging your blows, fo’ sho, street talk but still make it eloquent,
I might be teeth, **** toes but lets make one thing clear,
The only head you’ll be getting is off the top of your beer.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
Above the caldera at Yellowstone,
a brittle soil-rock crust
caps a lake of liquid fire
with only fumaroles and roiling geysers
to stay its upward ******
One errant step is all it takes
to breach that mantle's fragile seal -
spelling death by fire
to any hapless wanderer
who fails to guard his path.
Fragile calderas also roil
buried in darkest hollows of our psyches -
brewed of failures, slights and fears
dissolved in molten pools
of self-consuming misery.
To dress and salve our wounds
we sow gardens of reconciliation within
with beauty, trust and reason
and bow to gods of grace and solace.
But a despot’s studied eye
knows just how to tap our fragile crusts,
releasing acrid lava flows
from pools where fear and rage reign hot
and reason has no district.
Sisters and brothers of our flesh I pray
we find a holy and transforming alchemy
to convert our heat to light
and shield our sacred calderas
from enemies that stalk us from within.
July, 2006, revised December, 2014, 2015 and 2018
Robert Charles Howard
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
Everywhere, on the sidewalks, in the gutters, right outside my door. Flourishing in the streets of Tegucigalpa, like leftover confetti from Mardi Gras. Lining the paths, nestled in the gravel, the broken concrete, and overgrown weeds. Coloring the landscape with orange and green.
Proliferating around garbage cans, discarded bottles, tires, and take out boxes, liberated to the acrid landscape around.
Men, cutting back the peels, devouring the tropical flesh, delectable, united to pits. Dark skin and eyes, their accents singing, so different from my own.
I stepped carefully, but always underneath, a sweet stickness, clinging to my soles. A bond to the red dirt, platanos fritos, and cattle roaming the street.
When I returned to the wide boulevards, pristine and meticulously clean, I stopped watching my feet, looking for mango peels underneath.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
poor, slumped over and broken strangers
for a penny, share their paltry stories, one by one
snippets and scatters of half-truths and fables,
so raunchy they'd make Aesop blush.
don't deprive me of your salacious souls.
rented sea views with mirrors and doors,
unlocked drawers and white ***** floors,
with freshly dead ***** in claw-footed tubs.
rich luxury rich luxury rich luxury rich luxury
does that second home taste too sweet?
ears swallowed by bubble bath suds
head underwater, eyelids crushed and
stinging from the acrid chemical perfume;
drinking the bathwater in an unclean tub,
tasting notes of freesias and ***** green-blue.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
let's make a deal.
uncap the bottle,
discover my greatest work-
a soliloquy on sentience,
performed to an empty room.
the walls
are bleeding lead poisoning again
and i
am leaving logic behind.
the air is crisp on my wretched skin
and as the world dies
its aching breath helps me
to finally feel alive.
i am pure white.
let me rise, enlightened.
as i float, breathless,
i can feel, finally,
the weight of my bones.
make me into a sparrow,
feast upon my marrow,
so i can become porous-
but leave my hollow mind whole.
idolize me.
spin my disease into pure beauty.
a stone-cold rose
grounds the coffin for my dreams,
liberating me from responsibility.
awaken me.
strip my heavy corpse of its wings,
eviscerate the breath from my lungs
cease my tangibility
oh glory,
build me up
strip me down
to my knuckles and teeth,
to the weathered bone.
remove the bloodstains from my home.
if i bleed now
it will be beautiful
when i fall, i
will glorify the cement, decorate it
with my shining insides
when i come down
it will be stunning
it will be dreadful
and i will be resplendent
-but the delivery
won't change the content
candy wrapping
can't cover up the stench of death-
i have given up
on purging the necrosis from my tissue
i have found
this tantalizing muse once again, and
once more i
will let her put cigarettes out
on my sorry skin.
i've grown to love the smell,
that acrid poison
it almost covers up the scars
she leaves-
if i can make dying sound beautiful
then to hell
with us all
if you could romanticise suicide
you'd be rotting
too
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 9:14 PM UTC
Unapologetically Human
I am **** on the mezzanine
facing the darkened wet road
illuminated with acrid yellow tube light
better reds and blues surround towering palm trees
wooden fingers of ancient giant hands buried below
growing leafy green nails stretching skyward
little things, orange ribbons, endless cricks and dollops
bobbles and winches
Spirits
Play among the windmills
climb to the top of trees and sing into the warm wind songs of *** and heartache
as the universe ruffles along
Dive head first into the opponents forehead
grind the sand into his flesh with ram like resolve until the skin is red,
determine to die
This life is worth proving,
the stars are worth gazing,
and this body is worth bathing in the Maui air with naked delight
The ocean calls to my heart
water is a true lover whispering, kissing
inescapably feminine
I submerge my soul in joyful waves
always the tides follow the moon
like my silly heart, eclipsing
both light both night both day
simultaneously cycling
fully the light shines and our eyes perceive shadow faces in the dark blanketed clouds
the mountain gargoyles stand as titans, forgotten creatures
shoulders and heads, waiting for the moon ball
the ocean moon, tranquil bays
the air is sweeter with you near, a distant thought
cast about the horizon, the sun melting easy golden into my dreamy eye,
bless my drunken lips
dripping doltish songs into the friendly night
Wrestling with bulls of men
we kept our shirts on this time, yet blood was drawn in the sand
we madly danced in the moonlight to clapping hands,
kicking feet and knees
the ceremonial struggle toasting the stars
bottles were shared, some puffed on cigars
Come surf with me in the morning
or anytime the sun shines
even under moonlight would I meet you and we could paddle
come fill your heart with life and lust and romantic passions idyllic as freshly fallen snow undisturbed by worldly concerns
be not abashed for this embrace is a natural wonder of the soul,
join me,
forget what words of yesterday the prophets of doom chant,
we make our own tomorrow
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
Insult not a memory.
So blessed with kindness.
Touched with honey.
Stoked with decency.
Painted from soft brush.
Gentle sable.
Lower the sabre.
The powerful sword.
With hilt of guilt.
Let it be.
Not aggressive being.
Distressed.
Depressed.
Acrid tears.
Acid tongue.
Lemon lips.
Evil sharp,
So bitter.
Discarded amid leaf litter.
The autumn leaves they fell.
Deep within the mist.
Memories withheld.
Can’t you tell?
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
I am shylock,
In the attic barely used,
Barren exuberant floorboards creak in exhalation,
Of your footsteps.
There you find me,
In the dust;
A wooden trunk with brass fixings,
Didn't I tell you I held a million treasures?
You breathe in the sunlight,
From the round attic window,
Preening itself in your vision basked in gold.
I am shylock,
You moved a gilded hand,
Guided by a unknown force of union with the lock,
The air is silent around you,
The room is intrepid in its wanton stranger,
Who dares to enter this chamber of dust.
I am shylock,
You take my fingertips from the cup of a hand I had placed gently on your cheek,
The night before I had told you,
Of this room,
You gently take my fingers and place it on the lock.
I am shylock,
There is a gentle click,
That soon awashes the abated room,
That sways into a tsunami of grandeur,
Of history, emotion, silence and tears,
And it consumes the dust,
The acrid air and essence of my fears settle on your eyes and the homely mouth.
I am shylock,
You know how I came about,
Now,
You know how this room became accustomed to the dust,
And the floorboards, the dust,
And the window, the dark,
You are breathing me,
The trunk is open and waiting,
And at the bottom,
A ragdoll awaits your palm,
Your strength, your gentleness and patience,
This is my shy,
This is my lock,
And you entered the room and consumed me.
Burst through the door, cut down the labyrinth,
and found me.
Picking me up,
You,
Became me, attended me, held me,
with grace sensitive to my touch,
with the intention of a protector to my defence,
And the brazen warrior to my battle.
Now I am entered and countered.
Protected and put together,
Unbound and in your arms;
Now I am open and free.
My ragdoll, your love, and me.
Together, unlocked,
together I and you become, we.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
Planks, splintering in solidity
Together twined in tedium
Curving cords of mated metal
Lost in ludicrous loops
Twines of tetanus protrude
Danger danger
Rising flying roaring floating
Above the stillborn trains
Arching acrid aerial arms
Lazy concrete spiral, neighbor snail
Inverse slide with railings
Rumble rumble try and grumble
Jitter in jumpy juxtaposition
Guts of grotesque giants
Flayed flawed under flaming flight
Blink away oblivion
Orange and omnificent, opaque concern
Useful hangnail, table scraps
Rise above
Shocked stillness soon stumbling
Ornamental oasis for the oracles
Unseen unheard untasted unsmelled
Unfeeling unused to understanding
Carry me across
Fly me over
Lift me beyond
Suspend.
Glimpse the unparalleled phenomenon
Ribs of steel, rain has parted
Seeping to the soul
Buzzing through the boards
Immobile, cradle in the wind
Twist
Take off your sunglasses
Be sure to look around as you pass through
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 10:30 PM UTC
queasy
upset stomach
shaky knees
spill out of a packed van
with choking seatbelts.
feet that are tired of wearing shoes
and sitting
for houuuuuuurrrrs
hit the hot concrete...
foreign land:
gas station.
dad tells me to run around a bit
stretch my legs
mom sits in the car
pregnant
fanning herself
smiling
at me
out the open
window
i smile back.
i'm wearing the white shirt
with the blue trim
that mom made me
special
for our trip
it has a silly sun
with sunglasses and a crinkly smile
that she embroidered on it
it is
my favorite...
i smell the acrid gasoline
look around
the first time
i've been
anywhere
i am only eight
dad comes out of the store
his hands full
of funny little cardboard boats
me and my sister
run up to him
he hands me
a chili dog
with onions...
first bite....
burst of onion
spice of chili
sweetness of bread
orange
mouths
i look at my sister
she points to my shirt
shows me the chili stain
against the perfect white
i
cry
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC