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Filmore Townsend Feb 2013
standing the foot’s placement,
standing firm upon ground –
inner part of the firmament.
lasting two days, feet free’d in
levitating affects. mind, the
utter blank canvas. color
me complacent, color me adjacent,
color me a complete loss. irreparable.
two feet in place of a once four.
foundation, strength to build tall
some structure of love for my
blonde-hair’d beauty of the Midwest.
saw in ‘er somethin’, more nothin’
than anything. and this foundation’s
anchor stripped. two feet in place
of once four. irreconcilable, color me
a complete loss wanting all the
little honies, in the raw. healthier
that way, what with the better part
wanting no part. wise men, the one’s
seekin’ their own wisdom. their words
are ‘high-holy’, their ears catching err
syllables. feign deaf if their syllables
are not the ones being annunciated.
pushing past yesterday,
hoping this force can turn perpetual
motion, to the county line. away from
prying eyes with hundred reasons
to ****. don’t stop till the cops come
in, and don’t stop till the cops come
in.
–if you’re Jesus Christ, man,
  i’ll be the ******* anti-Christ.
then coffee nulling images of shotgun
splatter. trying to rise. blasting now to
obviate noise of the morning coming,
–came here looking to be a pastor.
  kinda fell off the deep end since.
right, right.
–zombies back into the picture.
  better by the side.
back into the picture with life, with love,
with an eighteen car garage. lonesome,
something like that. to be awake when
the sun rises again. rising to explain a
hipster’s crystal sky. the eyes never
lye, don’t forget what’s been done.
don’t defend the trailing fallacies or
absences. and we’ve become un-
welcome, become destined, being
unfriend’d. but even these cats may
look at a King, though they’re in
some disgusting race to the end.
cops comin’ in, cops ******’ on
everything adjoin’d the scene. truly,
they’re some different form of hipster.
hip sir?  nah, sir.  nothin’ at all, and
don’t get got. smash those erry day
low prices with a strange fascination
for fascism. play it, play from the
******* heart, play to tear the *******
sky apart. to set out in tearing to destroy
the welfare ghettos. true Americana,
this welfare culture. with powder’d
nose and quivering lungs. reflections in
the pupil, a vain mirror for the souls
of others. a feel of miles, a feel of being
lost as its own adventure. nothing more than
a kid from Califax, a kid pushing onlys,
a kid smoking Marlboros to cure
hangovers, a kid with enough life for
years worth of days.
John Kuriakose Nov 2013
On Nunday morning came at my door,
A Pharaoh  ant of Elephant size.
A   thorax, six legs, two antennae
A form well - shaped, flawless, textbook
With  perfect beginning, middle and end

Over and over I rubbed my eyes
The ant, it stood still at my door,
And bracing itself for all my wrath,
Annunciated at the highest of pitches
The nonsense of all my senses
Rowan Eyzaguirre Nov 2014
Chemical dependency, with a side of intimate conductivity, followed by romantic conspiracy, turned to emotional connectivity.
without for-sought thought, proceed to three years of Hot Love turned to three months of Cold War.

Violent codependence, bandaged by hopeful commitments, failed by unchecked addictions, and annunciated by priceless resentments, punctuated by lost trust and an honest compassion.

Fight tooth and nail for higher ground, feeling faithless and unforeseen worthlessness.

Realized lack of influence, led by justified relapse, a broken heart or two and a few weeks later, loneliness earned and hopelessness learned.

Try to scramble back to the to the idea of the connection once perfect, now weathered and tired, filled with tired resentment, and unresolved disagreement.

Love & Lust, into Trustless Treason.

I will stand tall against the machine of time's toll on love, tears in my eyes and fear in my heart. Why should I back down.

And why should I not.

I would rather be trampled with suffering than choose one and regret either.

One lover's stand off.

One lover's lament.

Stuck in the middle of this heavily trafficked highway, feet shoulder width apart, stuck in concrete, committed to resistance.


-RÆ
It cannot go unspoken this time.
Split in twixt, bifurcated,
so one half couldn't recognize the
whole.

Blindfolded by rage, scarred
by the ravages of what if's,
the open metaphor for pain.

Removing myself from the
standards I began to set.
Unrealistic, out of reach,
unattainable.
Blurring my vision, by bended
elbow, making excuses faster than
solutions; sinking slowly without
a branch, only an empty bottle
to adhere to.
The calamity called for peace,
and I've listened.

Her hand innocuous at first,
now radiant, strong, and sensual.
Grasped hold of me,
ripping me up from my rotting moorings.
Providing proof there's
still strength in my devices,
my incentives, in my hopes
lie my dreams.

It will never again go unspoken
through my action, it will be heard
careening off foundations,
piercing eyes, and lancing ears.
Words conversed by glance, and
through touch.

Reformed, refined by the beautiful
touch of the divine.
It will never go unspoken again.
Once broken picked up, and loved
back together.

It will never again be unspoken.
The words, the elegance, the clarity,
it all must be perfect, perfectly annunciated.
In me I've found freedom.
Through you I am once again
welcomed into your kingdom.
TS Garrett Mar 2017
tHEY WERE SOLEMN

they tossed in their sleep

They were the shadows cast against monoliths
when elbows and knees failed to crawl
hostile for the weight of gravity
annunciated through colors and their own speech  
graphitized in the name pagan underground punctuation
under ***** nails!

they made routine
of always casting long spells

that dirtied and dripped
with

“oh my God”
Eleete j Muir Aug 2021
Wrought onto life more than his own when
Hell freezes over the worlds prandial origins burning
Firmament of baptismal unknowing denouncement
For a lonely soul lost toward the lowly pays
No  more allegiance offering breeches within comminatory
Lore judgementally appointed zealously upon ones noir
Herald collar as reeking to High Heavens are the horses
Bite annunciated by infinite eternities canonisation swept
By Gods warning:- Apocalyptic for pittances indebting
Another whilst God hunts the Devil and Mans sufferance
Neither once in a lifetime.


ELEETE J MUIR
louella Jan 2022
I walked down the path, watching my steps intently, trying not to fall. My face formed a light smile that annunciated my cheekbones. I was happy now; this was the first time I was in the longest time. I never knew why I was sad either, all my emotions always seem to blend together. I pushed everything aside for the minutes I was walking, clearing my wandering mind.
And there he was ahead of me. Jeremiah.
Oh, what was I to do? He was in the way of the pathway, I couldn’t leave now. The wind stung my face with its worry. As if she was speaking to me, asking,“Are you alright?” patiently.
Oh, I was properly scared. No, not gut wrenchingly frightened, but the hair on my neck stood on its edge, ready for attack.
As I was about to prance away, our eyes met. His were green, brown- hazel. Beautiful. I didn’t dare breathe one word.
He walked up to me, grabbing my hand slowly. I reached out and we touched. The cherry blossoms fell onto the ground all around us.
My mouth didn’t want to speak, but I did. My brain was telling me to say how much I adored him. How much I loved him, but oh no, I could never.
“What’s the matter?” Jeremiah whispered serenely.
“Nothing.” I gently replied, but my mind blew up with many sparks.
“I missed you. You know that?” He asked sweetly, his breath smelled like candy that I wanted to put in my mouth and engulf.
“I missed you too,” I said, beaming.
We hadn’t seen each other in a whole month. I missed him the entire time, with my full heart. Even though he was gone for so long at war, I didn’t want to see him anymore. Those forbidden words clung to the back of my tongue, ready to protrude out of my lips at any given moment. But I kept silent. Even though it pained me deeply.
“Everything seems off…like I missed a lot.” He gave a sentimental expression to me and looked straight up at the glowing sun.
“You never miss too much. You’re always gone when there’s a problem, always gone when I’m grieving.” I was petrified that those words came out of my foolish lips. I told them to stop being so loose.
I could tell that he felt sympathetic for me, while also terrified of my honest remarks.
“No, that’s not what I meant-“ the words didn’t feel right. Not at all.
Jeremiah didn’t say anything else. Neither did I.
But he grabbed my hand and we started waltzing. The sun was beginning to set in the bleak horizon. The sun lit up both of our indignant faces, something we had in common.
While he waltzed calmly, he whistled. The songs he was whistling sounded so familiar. So familiar.
War chants. That’s what the whistle sounds were. They tore me towards his skin. I saw landscapes from Greece, Italy, and Spain painted on his skin. Dreams so faint, I could barely read them. Tattoos of what our lives could have been. If he never got involved in war.

As our dance ended, he pulled me in so close I could almost taste his disappointment.
His eyes told me stories from his time at war, but that wasn’t what he was trying to tell me.
“You shouldn’t resent me for going to war,” he said. “You know before…before my life….I had another one. And before that, you weren’t mine, I was you.”
“What?” I asked doubtfully.
“I was you before. I criticized you for going to save your country. I denounced your accomplishments complacently. I said you were worth nothing. And the next day, I found you on the floor of the dining room. Burning alive. I ran to your side but..” he struggled forming these words, “I was engulfed into the flame. Both of us went down to the evil storm of jealousy. Both of us died in vain. Useless. So God sent us back for another round, when we would swap roles, I would go to war and provide, and you would, you know, wait around. But look, we’re right back where we started.” He finished this statement firmly, leaving out no small detail.
“Oh, Jeremiah! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean anything. I promise. Oh, I missed you at war! I missed you dearly! I will never say anything else about you leaving! Never!” Yelling at the top of my lungs felt all good and well.
And we gripped each other’s bodies so tight, I bet an earthquake happened.
“Oh, Jeremiah! Maybe you were me before!” I shouted into the pitch black darkness.
Jeremiah whispered quietly under his breath. “Maybe.”
Soulmates who?
1/4/22

— The End —