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I'm brOKen Feb 25
Embrace me tightly
Until I can't breathe
Until all the love I have for you recedes

Pinch my cheek
To draw red water
To coat your surface
Wear me like decor

Wrap around me
And pierce my lungs
Leave me speechless
From lack of tongue

Become the very air
I transpire
And love me as
You're made of barded wire
zebra Jul 2018
there are women who love demons
you can see it in their eyes
like a sick hunger
silence in a straight jacket
smiling limbs on a pyre
starring entranced
whiskey blind
as if marveling
at a howling blood-spattered dingo in a crater
seduced to wander off half-***** into a bush of thorns
******* barbed hooks for heroine kisses
women on fire who believe in nothing
except their atavistic compulsions


they are a burning land
beauty in ruin
ready for the slender whip
and black-toothed kisses
who giggle and then plunge into an abyss

i hold her like a jaw holds teeth
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
We spread our blanket on uneven
ground, bodies embracing in descent,        
                       They lay on the boxcar floor,
                        fingers twisted, clutching slats.
transfixed by the spell of evening,
limbs entwined, interlaced,
                        Barbed wire pressed punctured palms
                        faces creased as old photographs.
We stretched in dawn’s light,
poured coffee out of cups,
and left as it merged with the dust.
                         bones upheave turf and loam
                         fingers grasping, sheathed in soil.

Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
180828F

At the time of writing, the war in former Yugoslavia was occurring. Pictures of ethnic extermination camps, barbed write, mass graves, Happeing again. Happening despite the awareness and vows after the holocaust, that such things must never be allowed to happen again. An awareness that had grown stale. Do the horrors of history, even in our ignorance or innocence, ultimately make even the smallest of our acts, some how complicit?
King Panda Aug 2017
a crocus opens and
closes with the stream of
midnight moon.

the playmate of exhaustion
crosses the room
in his heavy, black boots
to close the curtains.

goodbye, light.
goodbye, pride of lions
and boy transformed
into a werewolf.

a scratch
of larceny,
the cuddle of
maple leaves rotting,
the magnet spinning
in rocket-ship orbit.

all secrets held in
feathers,
in hair compounded
into strings of
black opal,
and limbs stenciling
comets around
five feet of woman.

nothing in the talk
can suffocate—a quick
and easy birth of
ecstasy and the emotional
sidestep into the dark
of slumber,
seemingly feminine but
dreams strong as
barbed wire.

when to sleep?

a question finger-written
on my chest.
Purcy Flaherty Oct 2018
We rode our horses cross-country,
Through the nations of the unknown,
We survived the snowy mountains,
And lived off the land and the trees,
Through hot summers and cold winters,
Through deserts storms; we circled the trails,
We learned from the birds and the bees,
We hunted the elk, the deer and the buffalo,
We fished to feed the travelling spirit,
We turned acorns into flour,
We set our senses free.

$
You brought Soldiers, missionaries,  smallpox, the common cold, scalping, reservations, whisky and the rush for gold.
Land grabbing oil barons, fencing, bricks, barbed wire and all the accouterments of your civilized culture!
You made this country your own; and forced it's 1st nation into a 3rd world nation.

Land and minerals reign supreme in a world without shame!
Without equality there is only slavery.!
Meat and potatoes!
Steve May 2018
My dreams are coloured by
The passage of the night
My passion is distorted by
A shifting inner light
******* with my senses
******* with my mind
Building barbed wire fences
It’s crueller to be kind.
Feel the grit :)
Leigh Mar 2015
Eyebrows like barbed wire,
Skin like leather,
Silver hair always carefully in place,
And a handshake that held your everything.
It's etched into my palm.
Beneath the kindest eyes I knew
Bags were packed for the Winter.
Every item picked thoughtfully for her:
His life
...


A short tribute to my Grandad George who passed away. One of the kindest and most selfless people I've known.

...
patty m Jun 2014
A nightmare whispers in my ear
sidles down, spreading wasp-like wings
as it hisses between pointy teeth
words of chaos and confusion.

Disturbing revelations
whirr, jitter, and chatter as I flinch.
Its consumptive rattle spraying spittle
emits a putrid scent reminiscent of rodent.

Milky blue and innocent eyed
yet dastardly depraved,
the imp reaches out
shivering with excitement,
ignoring my piteous complaint.

Oppressive gray skinned nightmare
barbed prehensile tail
your vicious stinger
breeds monsters.

Failing light
the fallen rain
congers danger
Between bouts of nausea
I watch him ******* breath from mewling infants,
opening plague tombs, unwinding sheets,
and I cringe with the fear of being buried alive.

Clinging to bones, scant hair on a withered head,
I cry burning tears,
my face seamed with scars.
Not dead yet, but powerless to refute him.

Leagues of the dead march by
rank after rank of their numbers
never staggering to an end,  

I try to rise, wheezing , tongue swelled over teeth
eyeballs bulging, as their footsteps grow louder.

Still I dangle chained to this moment
terrified ,
as nightmare rears its head
but even more frightened of dying.
King Panda May 2017
wings on barbed wire
wave me hello as the train
travels supernova
explosion through
downtown.

we have spoken words
that meant something,
that gripped iron ends
onto our ankles and kept
us close.

in shackles, we outshone
the entire galaxy.
in chains, we sped through
the world catching wind
of bleeding bird feet—the
sweet chips and chirps now
reverberate symphony
through thick plastic.

And I am on top
of you licking your pores
like charcoal.
The Dybbuk Apr 2018
I grip the barbed wire that I use a rein,
For this beast of a world that I cannot yet tame,
I grit my teeth and I hold my breath,
The name of my lover is death.
I kneel in the salt as I am abused,
With cables and whips, yet I am amused,
Blood hits the floor, and I smile at the stain,
The name of my lover is pain.
I spit out the words that I hear in my soul,
Reciting them from this internalized scroll,
I gather my demons and open the gate,
The name of my lover is hate.
King Panda Aug 2017
I am common.
seemingly feminine
but shoulders strong
as barbed-wire.
like a chicken I am  
underdeveloped—my wings
weak and unable to
lift me into the air.
I am preoccupied
in self-identified war
with the 875 square foot
apartment and the pasta
that refuses to boil.
on my knees, I
crawl
reconciling rhyme
and reason for
suffering.
the world has gone awry,
I say to myself on an
afternoon bike ride
through wooded
pain, my face
a perfect plane for
scathing branches.
quick and easy blood
am I.
wretched and astonishing
is the rhetoric I
find in the hollow of
my rib.
I am common
but not so when
written by hand.
zebra Dec 2018
come here with the jackknife and see what I'm made of
i'm **** candy she said
taffy and blood
a steaming deli
doomed chicken of the sea
doll parts, splayed pomegranates
femurs left in a ******; wish bones
eviscerations to admire
peaches and cream sprinkles
skin like cold grey soap
barbed wire ******'s spas
like a toilet flushing
spirographic squiggles
at the museum of modern art

video girl
video girl
video girl
like
butter flies flutter bye

dead movie star dancing
a matinee cyclops
everybody wants a glitter ****
incandescent candy store
a piece of her to take home in little bite size chunks
in a heart shaped pink box leaking red meat
enshrined crucifix; kosher
an **** of heretics like me
and maybe like you

god is whatever is in your heart

i pray to modernism
to be saved
by *** death and resurrection
and a bigger ****
impregnation ghoul
like a solar ******* hero
*** heroine
a Bedouin and a Jew ******* each other off
in a New York City
Holiday Inn
while the Kabbalah and Koran read each other

I packed the suit case
with a yellow mucous colored rubber tube, a razor and stockings
I don't know what ill do with it, but ill think of something

God spins death
so why cant you; or are you to good for that
albeit a narrow construction
to carve my fate in such short order

ill get into my short short funeral skirt and girly bobbles
ill go up and down on you like a yoyo
sea Venus foaming *******
til you flip me over
a deli sandwich
and cut me in two
splattered ketchup
on the blue plate special; extra mayo
while a huddled sabbath of *******, extra ******
groan like Pisgah turned to mulch
indigo shards suicide note
ending in
i don't mind
and precise instructions
please chew slowly while I **** on your teeth
stuck rot
while still kissing you
better bring a napkin and floss

you know I would get hot,
seeing my one way ticket next to your return one

wish we could
**** candy
pastel chew
blood bubblegum
melts in my mouth like quicksand
hissing fruity drops looping
you go down like squid
clawing your way back up half chewed with that hurt look
making wet mud holes blink
dark vapors tear my eyes

you wont need a head stone
your feet will look good sticking out of the ground
with anklets
a fashionista
except upside down
your funeral; a foot kissing ritual
religion; follow dead feet, to paradise

head down *** up
you know; the position of power

your the new aeon
grave stone arches with toe ring twinkles
rectitude striving
hot head buried in dirt
antagonizing worms
because your to hot to chew
like molten core
a zombie ******
velvet tabernacle
smooth leg art
and pretty pointy toes
ascending
where glitter lights shine
pickle brine
green
in a
Promethean ******* ballet
phantasmagorias dark embrace

this is no ordinary love
dialog of paraphilias
surreal horror subversive
a poem about the non-rational sacred
untethered poetry
song of a shattered world


Across the spectrum of religious experiences—from the archaic and chthonic experience of sacred power to organized religion—surrealism arises in that elusive threshold between the sacred and the profane, between the illuminations and of everyday life and the more formal expressions of the sacred. The mysterious, contradictory nature of this liminal zone is embodied in surrealist literature and art: matter becomes metaphor; the ordinary object becomes extraordinary; and images evoke emotional disturbance and ambiguity rather than specific ideas. The ambivalent force of the surreal resists conventional rational categories of intellectual discourse. Behind its elusive potency of mood and charged associations lie the fundamental ambivalence and non rational power of the sacred.
—Celia Rabinovitch, Surrealism and the Sacred
Silent Moon Dec 2018
Osama
Your name slowly reminds me of the ocean
Each wave comes crashing in
The rhythm escapes from my lips
A repeated breath in your ear
Over & Over
Again
You have the sun
I have the moon
A solar eclipse destined to meet
Looking down below
Driving
Endlessly long roads
Along wind escaping from your hair
Melodies dancing into our ears
Smiles from ear to ear
Electricity falling like snow
My fingertips against your lips
Whispering your name
Very slow
I close my eyes
With your head tucked into mine
Barbed wires sparking to feel alive
Colliding universes just in time
Your hand in mine
Our souls intertwining
In this so called life
We have been running
Throughout our past lives
Forever & Always
Will live on this time.
I love you
I love you
I love you
I could whisper that in your ear
Over & over again
Caroline Feb 7
Perhaps I am a tease of some kind.
I think I like the power.
I like to make you wait;
The piercing pleasure of milking the nectar from the hours.

Sit in that chair with your blue jeans on,
White
Shirt
Barely
Tucked.
Place your hands down on your knees and attempt to
Catch
Your
Breath.

Look at me in this half-light glow;
Your eyes cut glass and fire.

Burn me with that desperate gaze;
Let it slice me like barbed wire.

Don't flinch at all,
Stay still and let me play.
I want to gently trace your muscles;
To track your tremors
As if
As if you were my favorite prey.

I am a devil in a nymph’s disguise.
I take pleasure in this hunger that we
Suffer;
Climbing slowly in your lap,
I need you to feel me shudder.

There is something holy in this craving;
Something beautiful that only
This restraint
Is making.

Rest with me here in this space of aching
And wait;
Wait within the slow rotation of
My hips.
Wait within the throbbing heartbeat of
My lips
Wait until the universe
Drips
With
****.

Then give it up,
Smash these tortuous walls,
Slay me
Slaughter me
Shred me

With

Your

Love.
What can I say, sometimes I'm a bad girl haha Sometimes I just have to explore those delicious realms that can exist within the intensity of two wildly connected spirits.
Iris Proctor Jan 2018
Saturday
Sounds like the pattering
Of bare feet
On a dusty concrete yard,

Smells of chimney smoke
And jagged coal heath,
Sheep-scent and
Wiry wool on a barbed fence,

Saturday
Is a jangly guitar
In a rickety truck
On a gravel road,

With a gravel voice
Rough as grit,
Deep as the caverns
Between the peaks,

Saturday
Is sunlight on an enamel ***,
A tin kettle
And its blood metal tea,

It is blackberry-bitten legs
and iodine streams,
A canopy of heady bracken
Below penny-marked trees,

Then Sunday,
Slantwise
Against the setting sun
Away again.
The plastic bag flowers in trees
drifting along highway miles
aluminum cans by the sides
the scenery, broken, defiled

Styrofoam cups in the ditch
wrappers on barbed wire fence
confirming along the way
humanity shallow, yet so dense

The trail maybe long, and yet short
to the destinations that we choose
but I wonder and contemplate fools
too the end of this road
we all lose
Sad that even in Texas, which has one of the most marked success stories in clean highways ("Don't Mess with Texas") that there is still more than a few places where the trash congregates D:

Cruising to Az this week!
King Panda Oct 2017
fall hoppers kick to grass
as I walk down
sun-bleach lane

the anhedonia I felt yesterday
is pelted by the wind
away
away
to the breeze beyond
trash-bin creek

I walk past
a meddled roadside lover
kissing her own bloodied hand

must have been
bitten by the white-thing
panting at her feet

the image comes
and passes
with the balanced
autumn sunshine

I touch the twist of barbed wire
that guards a
re-habitated pond

a drop of blood
wells and surfaces
a moon-blazed penny

the dulled copper sting
of flesh and money
merges in the glory
of shortened days

all is accorded to the fleeting
nature of my heartbeat

that which comes and passes
Sam Vaghi Sep 2015
There are many unseen dragons that torment me in this life

There is a tiny dark creature
with a vicious forked tongue  
Who crawls behind my ear
and twists a barbed tail around my neck.
It whispers bitter words and
noxious notions that dissolve
my sense of self-
That make me believe
I am nothing
Unwanted
worthless,
Talentless
and pointless.


There is the sleek silver beast
Which laughs as
Sharp blooded claws and rapier teeth
cut and rip at my flesh
Guided by my own hand

There is the fiery flash
That ravages my mind to rage
And fight
And destroy those close to me
And the things I hold dear

There is the red heart eater
Who eyes glow brighter
As it steals the joy
And the pleasure
From the things I do
And from the magic moments in life

There is the grotesque malformed nightmare,
That drips sickly slime
And pumps putrid poison into the air
As it breathes heavily on me
And whittles away my will,
Drains all my energy
Until I can barely breathe
Or get out of bed

Then there is the great beast,
Of whom I only know eyes
Darker than the blackest night,
A despair that seeks the quickest end
That teaches my surrendering soul
To long for the final sleep
First draft
Xyrrio Jan 2017
It begins at a moderate pace,
Picking up steadily like time is in a mad haste,
Confined to one dimly lit area this fever cultivates,
Stretching endlessly as this heartache alternates to a physical pang,
Emotions barbed and jagged as those of thorns the heart turns to rage
Written by Tristan
Avaleen Nov 2018
Somehow I always seem to look at my darkest days as if it were lined with gold
and not barbed wire.
-the past makes things hazy
anthony Brady Nov 2018
TB or not TB!
Is it in the badgers?
That is the question.
Whether 'tis noticed
elsewhere - slurry perchance.
As they shuffle off the coils
of barbed wire or dodge  the
slings and arrows of culler’s  slaughter
for outrageous fortune,
who for them will take up arms
with a see  of dissidents
and by opposing
end the heart-ache, the
thousand natural shocks
their setts are heir to?
'Tis a consummation
devoutly to be wish'd.

William  Spearshake
Danneli Jan 15
There's a war going on
I hear echoes of screams
Of gunshots, of bombings
Of knives and retreat

I don't have a flag
Or someone to trust
Nothing to pledge
But march forward I must

I don't fight for them
I can't fight for you
I just sit in the middle
Bring others down too

I cover my ears
To block out the yells
The crying, the screeches
The pleading for help

I'm bleeding out fast
I'm falling asleep
Barbed wire, sharp words
Just memories to keep

Feel the shots whistling by
And still I don't fight
There's a war going on
And it's all in my mind.
Like new summer wine
We were green in our time
And the yellow rose
never smelled better

But like the weeds in the road
Armadillos , horned toads
The truth was spelled out in the letter

You know some days are just fine
Others will find that your lying
But most of the time
you're barbed wiring

Well the rains came on down
Washed away most of the town
I found you boarding the bus to Dallas

You said you gave it a go
It's time to go with the flow
Then I watched the bus
dissappear with sadness

Well the high plain's never tame
Life's not long there for the lame
And one can drown in the dust
of your sorrow

You can ride on and mend
But you will never be able
to bend
The land or the will that's known as Texas

So goodbye my dear friend
You can write but I'll never send
I'll be waiting for you
at the nexus
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