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"bioluminescent" poems
I. Neptune’s Theater A rock spins through the universal tumbler and its warm blue pools calcify as turquoise Neptune in his cloudy blue bath bath builds a lace castle with his fingertips Sculpts a submerged eden of crimson and emerald where painted parrots chat up cardinals butterfly and angel fry sway with wave pulse and foliated coral fingers beckon from arched windows. Neptune’s children are flat and bright, spined and notched free yet entangled in lace mesh ecosystem beneath an array of bioluminescent stars as a gangly pretender watches and blows bubbles. II. Sapien Siege The hot acidic hand of death grasps the mesh rends and tangles the ecosystem shattered reef’s loosed children scream beneath planet’s stars. Butterflies impaled cyanide-swooning damsels mesh-tangled angels hauled heavenward coral to potash, corpses to coal. The pretender to the throne blinks rubs blurry lenses, kicks plastic fins and moves on to the next show Unseeing and unaware of the luminous filament in his wake. Self-appointed divinity, deus ex machina. ******************************************************************************************* Ann says: All of the animal and human characters in this poem (except Neptune and The Pretender) are named after coral reef fish. Coral reefs, one of the most diverse ecosystems, are expected to be largely extinct within one human generation. Deus ex machina is Latin for “God from the machine.” Copyright 2013 by Ann Marcaida.
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Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
ann-marcaida
Children of the Reef
I. Neptune’s Theater A rock spins through the universal tumbler and its warm blue pools calcify as turquoise Neptune in his cloudy blue bath bath builds a lace castle with his fingertips Sculpts a submerged eden of crimson and emerald where painted parrots chat up cardinals butterfly and angel fry sway with wave pulse and foliated coral fingers beckon from arched windows. Neptune’s children are flat and bright, spined and notched free yet entangled in lace mesh ecosystem beneath an array of bioluminescent stars as a gangly pretender watches and blows bubbles. II. Sapien Siege The hot acidic hand of death grasps the mesh rends and tangles the ecosystem shattered reef’s loosed children scream beneath planet’s stars. Butterflies impaled cyanide-swooning damsels mesh-tangled angels hauled heavenward coral to potash, corpses to coal. The pretender to the throne blinks rubs blurry lenses, kicks plastic fins and moves on to the next show Unseeing and unaware of the luminous filament in his wake. Self-appointed divinity, deus ex machina. ******************************************************************************************* Ann says: All of the animal and human characters in this poem (except Neptune and The Pretender) are named after coral reef fish. Coral reefs, one of the most diverse ecosystems, are expected to be largely extinct within one human generation. Deus ex machina is Latin for “God from the machine.” Copyright 2013 by Ann Marcaida.
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33
there's this jellyfish stuck in my head he swims there day and night and lights up the dark inside of my skull a bioluminescent, fluorescent jellyfish swollen and pink he likes to shock me lighting up the dark inside of my skull he has long, coral tentacles they squeeze around my brain and he hugs it and pretends to be a part of it I think he gets a little lonely up there if you ask me no one to talk to in the dark inside my skull there's this poor, poor jellyfish stuck in my head who swims laps around my brain as though the space in someone's head could ever be as good as an ocean perhaps someday I will set him free perhaps I will crack open my skull and it will no longer be dark inside of there pink will spew out a large mushy brain with a jellyfish attached his long, coral tentacles will claw at the air like tendrils of bubblegum until someone brings him to the ocean where he belongs there's this jellyfish stuck in my head and he's very confused because my head looks nothing like an ocean
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Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
Bluehairedboyo
the jellyfish in my head
there's this jellyfish stuck in my head he swims there day and night and lights up the dark inside of my skull a bioluminescent, fluorescent jellyfish swollen and pink he likes to shock me lighting up the dark inside of my skull he has long, coral tentacles they squeeze around my brain and he hugs it and pretends to be a part of it I think he gets a little lonely up there if you ask me no one to talk to in the dark inside my skull there's this poor, poor jellyfish stuck in my head who swims laps around my brain as though the space in someone's head could ever be as good as an ocean perhaps someday I will set him free perhaps I will crack open my skull and it will no longer be dark inside of there pink will spew out a large mushy brain with a jellyfish attached his long, coral tentacles will claw at the air like tendrils of bubblegum until someone brings him to the ocean where he belongs there's this jellyfish stuck in my head and he's very confused because my head looks nothing like an ocean
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39
My bed is a mass grave My toilet is a mass grave My kitchen sink is a mass grave Stretched out in lines of chrysalis coke, choking the evanescent life that could have been. Straight into the empty Coca Cola can you go. A litany of atrocity in every bed, futon, desks, truck stop bathroom, camera lens, attempting to capture the genocide on film. Alas, the lens is Covered with white, bioluminescent death. Choking the unborn in the ****** drain. Coffee mug refill, for but a single dime, sweaty palms connected to strained veins on wrists, connected to thrusting elbows. Firing wrist rocket, V2, V1, buzz bomb. Unsuspecting future citizens, blocks of thousands at a time. Tadpoles, rotting in murky basement suits the world over. The war is on. Auschwitz, Dachau, Sachsenhausen. Arbeit Macht Frei. Swim for dear life
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
peter-christian-ness
The *** Stain Massacre
My bed is a mass grave My toilet is a mass grave My kitchen sink is a mass grave Stretched out in lines of chrysalis coke, choking the evanescent life that could have been. Straight into the empty Coca Cola can you go. A litany of atrocity in every bed, futon, desks, truck stop bathroom, camera lens, attempting to capture the genocide on film. Alas, the lens is Covered with white, bioluminescent death. Choking the unborn in the ****** drain. Coffee mug refill, for but a single dime, sweaty palms connected to strained veins on wrists, connected to thrusting elbows. Firing wrist rocket, V2, V1, buzz bomb. Unsuspecting future citizens, blocks of thousands at a time. Tadpoles, rotting in murky basement suits the world over. The war is on. Auschwitz, Dachau, Sachsenhausen. Arbeit Macht Frei. Swim for dear life
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16
Wondering through the complex mazes of the wind, trying to feel beyond what I cannot see; trying to see beyond    what I can feel ― The echoes of the breeze invigorate the stillness The weight of a world heavy expands like the traces of life lived packed deeply beneath jagged fingernails Lost in the wilderness of my soul, a feral wind abides silently as I wonder alone from end to end ...  side   to   side      through a portal shapeless as the wind Blinded by a collective bioluminescent light rooted deeply within, intimately touching crystalline fountains as the deepest pools of innate blackness unfold in the wake I reverently touch the inward rhythm where a heart strong      runs alone … feeling its pulsing cadence     quake and thunder     in reach … Rivulets thrumming across the burgeoning blossom of soothing netherworld seas Washing away all the memories made like the shapeless waves of wind moving the stillness beyond wild is the wind ... 1. 27. 2017
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Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 8:21 PM UTC
wildisthewind
Blowin’ in the Wind
Wondering through the complex mazes of the wind, trying to feel beyond what I cannot see; trying to see beyond    what I can feel ― The echoes of the breeze invigorate the stillness The weight of a world heavy expands like the traces of life lived packed deeply beneath jagged fingernails Lost in the wilderness of my soul, a feral wind abides silently as I wonder alone from end to end ...  side   to   side      through a portal shapeless as the wind Blinded by a collective bioluminescent light rooted deeply within, intimately touching crystalline fountains as the deepest pools of innate blackness unfold in the wake I reverently touch the inward rhythm where a heart strong      runs alone … feeling its pulsing cadence     quake and thunder     in reach … Rivulets thrumming across the burgeoning blossom of soothing netherworld seas Washing away all the memories made like the shapeless waves of wind moving the stillness beyond wild is the wind ... 1. 27. 2017
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49
[NEW] Scientists know more about the                  moon            than the ocean. [WAXING CRESCENT] Light can only dive 200 meters             down into the ocean.  Below it, the “Midnight Zone” glows in the dark.   (By standing in your shadow, I am hoping to become                                       bioluminescent.) [FIRST QUARTER] Life has a tendency to thrive in hostile environments.                                                                            For this reason, Jupiter’s moon,                                                                          Europa, may be able to support                                                                          life within the global ocean of                                                                          liquid water that is hidden                                                                          beneath the ice at its surface. (This is why I am able to bloom in the dark.) [WAXING GIBBOUS] The ocean bows to no one but the moon.  Turn off the lights.  Turn up the stars.  Low tide wants to fold back inside itself and lap against the                              shores of the Sea of Tranquility.   High tide just wants to be noticed. [FULL] But a heated black body sunspot,                 (isolated from the rest                 of the photosphere), still shines brighter than the moon.  Wolves should be howling at the sun instead.
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Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
taylor-st-onge
Riptidal Waves
[NEW] Scientists know more about the                  moon            than the ocean. [WAXING CRESCENT] Light can only dive 200 meters             down into the ocean.  Below it, the “Midnight Zone” glows in the dark.   (By standing in your shadow, I am hoping to become                                       bioluminescent.) [FIRST QUARTER] Life has a tendency to thrive in hostile environments.                                                                            For this reason, Jupiter’s moon,                                                                          Europa, may be able to support                                                                          life within the global ocean of                                                                          liquid water that is hidden                                                                          beneath the ice at its surface. (This is why I am able to bloom in the dark.) [WAXING GIBBOUS] The ocean bows to no one but the moon.  Turn off the lights.  Turn up the stars.  Low tide wants to fold back inside itself and lap against the                              shores of the Sea of Tranquility.   High tide just wants to be noticed. [FULL] But a heated black body sunspot,                 (isolated from the rest                 of the photosphere), still shines brighter than the moon.  Wolves should be howling at the sun instead.
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31
Humidity in theory harbors images of nights lit up by bioluminescent flying jewels that you catch in between your fingers like a cage too large and they fly away into the sky. The evenings are thick with sweltering droplets that hang beneath the orange street lights that cast a muted glow onto your salty lips and hazy eyes. The day's steam. And as the water fills your lungs And as your clammy hands run through sweaty hair, summer is alive. Humidity in practice invents beads running down your back that pool in your shirt and matted hair that sticks to the nape of your tender neck while you claw at your throat, suffocated breathing in between the condensation. The days are layered with mirages on the bubbling asphalt like a sea that only burns you and the yellow lines are the only safe haven when crossing the street with just your soles. The summer's plastic bag. And as the sun blisters your skin And as your hands only long for arctic rain from a calcium faucet, summer is alive.
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Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
micah-elise
Humidity in Theory
Humidity in theory harbors images of nights lit up by bioluminescent flying jewels that you catch in between your fingers like a cage too large and they fly away into the sky. The evenings are thick with sweltering droplets that hang beneath the orange street lights that cast a muted glow onto your salty lips and hazy eyes. The day's steam. And as the water fills your lungs And as your clammy hands run through sweaty hair, summer is alive. Humidity in practice invents beads running down your back that pool in your shirt and matted hair that sticks to the nape of your tender neck while you claw at your throat, suffocated breathing in between the condensation. The days are layered with mirages on the bubbling asphalt like a sea that only burns you and the yellow lines are the only safe haven when crossing the street with just your soles. The summer's plastic bag. And as the sun blisters your skin And as your hands only long for arctic rain from a calcium faucet, summer is alive.
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38
I will tell you not of our Secret mangrove tenement, Tunneled through the space behind both of our eyes. A place meant for whimsy and bioluminescent fauna, fawning faux sun light out into obsidian night. Nor will I tell of our soul’s soft meridian, served on the half shell to both kind and prying eyes, distant though unarguably tied— ribbons spun, fastened, dyed For what end should I tell? When your very presence is Heaven. And your very absence Hell.
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Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
daniel-august-1
A longing circumference.
I will tell you not of our Secret mangrove tenement, Tunneled through the space behind both of our eyes. A place meant for whimsy and bioluminescent fauna, fawning faux sun light out into obsidian night. Nor will I tell of our soul’s soft meridian, served on the half shell to both kind and prying eyes, distant though unarguably tied— ribbons spun, fastened, dyed For what end should I tell? When your very presence is Heaven. And your very absence Hell.
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20
Still night; eyes keen, sheets unfurled— sails. The night, sometimes, swims with sad fish. The night, sometimes, is a ritual drowning. Lonely, I consider waking you to say *Look— the stars are bioluminescent, baby.*
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Jan 3, 2011
Jan 3, 2011 at 7:16 PM UTC
marsha-singh
The night, sometimes
Still night; eyes keen, sheets unfurled— sails. The night, sometimes, swims with sad fish. The night, sometimes, is a ritual drowning. Lonely, I consider waking you to say *Look— the stars are bioluminescent, baby.*
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12
I'm as faded As that time you left the window open And all my ladybugs & fireflies got out People started glowing like my bioluminescent bonsai trees And the spots from my ladybugs Fell off leaving black holes Like the sewers Where you hide your secrets from me
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
Mosaic
Apartment 513
I'm as faded As that time you left the window open And all my ladybugs & fireflies got out People started glowing like my bioluminescent bonsai trees And the spots from my ladybugs Fell off leaving black holes Like the sewers Where you hide your secrets from me
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9
.           her **** sprinkled spine. her blackened fingertips from a day cleaning and smoking in the pre-spring heat. her knife atop the stump. memory is the root of mankind’s trouble. lullabies her mother used to sang, as the fish gasped and to the bone. wilderness, a strange enchanted girl. her bioluminescent tent. her blackened beans and tortilla-leaves and peelings of cheese. her knife to whittle a twig. her moments grow like gardens left alone to ghost-over. to sample the city wilderness & then slip further away into a rearview idea. new republic. paradise. she’s up that trail there.
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Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC
CoopLee
cascadia
.           her **** sprinkled spine. her blackened fingertips from a day cleaning and smoking in the pre-spring heat. her knife atop the stump. memory is the root of mankind’s trouble. lullabies her mother used to sang, as the fish gasped and to the bone. wilderness, a strange enchanted girl. her bioluminescent tent. her blackened beans and tortilla-leaves and peelings of cheese. her knife to whittle a twig. her moments grow like gardens left alone to ghost-over. to sample the city wilderness & then slip further away into a rearview idea. new republic. paradise. she’s up that trail there.
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19
A sunshine person, Like joy in a bottle, Or a summer star shower, Is a stand-alone marvel, They make light of the storms No monsoon is ever frightening They laugh like the thunder When they crack jokes like lightning They take every green fast So they can feel the wind race But happily stop for the roses When reds make for a slow pace You can blow out every candle Or even pull the stars from the sky But you can't take their shine Because it comes from inside
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Jul 24, 2022
Jul 24, 2022 at 4:05 AM UTC
aimee-6
Bioluminescent
A sunshine person, Like joy in a bottle, Or a summer star shower, Is a stand-alone marvel, They make light of the storms No monsoon is ever frightening They laugh like the thunder When they crack jokes like lightning They take every green fast So they can feel the wind race But happily stop for the roses When reds make for a slow pace You can blow out every candle Or even pull the stars from the sky But you can't take their shine Because it comes from inside
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16
Sometimes I feel her creep the edge of sleep Where the city is burning, I dream her mouthful of ashes. I taste her starfish nova against the tide. Her body is a book of matches; Mine, a text, highlighted and underlined. She weeps the sea-scuttle into an undertow. Her fulsome wing, span of nightshade, Weight-casts the lure to take flight, Carrying her two shadows into the valley. He says: *Yes, I live in paradise. The red tide is mine. The bioluminescent.  The drowned, The ungainly specie God has set aside.*
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Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
dana-pohlmann
Untitled
Sometimes I feel her creep the edge of sleep Where the city is burning, I dream her mouthful of ashes. I taste her starfish nova against the tide. Her body is a book of matches; Mine, a text, highlighted and underlined. She weeps the sea-scuttle into an undertow. Her fulsome wing, span of nightshade, Weight-casts the lure to take flight, Carrying her two shadows into the valley. He says: *Yes, I live in paradise. The red tide is mine. The bioluminescent.  The drowned, The ungainly specie God has set aside.*
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14
endlessness terrifies me my chest swells and my heart flutters to think of it a cold cold ocean blue like night filled to the brim with nothing a long dark void both hot and cold. dead stars and dizzying dances full of forever but you and your smile and your mind are endless and I am not afraid at all you are bioluminescent and there are stars trapped under your skin (you have no antidote)
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
dh-1
Endlessness
endlessness terrifies me my chest swells and my heart flutters to think of it a cold cold ocean blue like night filled to the brim with nothing a long dark void both hot and cold. dead stars and dizzying dances full of forever but you and your smile and your mind are endless and I am not afraid at all you are bioluminescent and there are stars trapped under your skin (you have no antidote)
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8
great whale bone gazebo calling for a mild december, lit by hundreds of flashlights; only they're bioluminescent insects encased in thin calcite ---
0
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Mote
not right
great whale bone gazebo calling for a mild december, lit by hundreds of flashlights; only they're bioluminescent insects encased in thin calcite ---
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7
Growing up as a child and a young teen was not the best, The memories up to this day traumatize me: I always remember the bad ones and never the rest. Now don't take this as a sob story I don't take well to pity, Just give me a few minutes to dwell On a childhood that was anything but well. It was the 29th day of March, A long and eerie night A miscarriage was near in sight The doctor told her: Its very possible that you will lose your baby After hours of pain and blood loss Came a bundle of joy with "cat eyes" that brought light to all a young mother's flaws. It was a miracle. "Its a baby girl, woah look at those eyes they are almost bioluminescent in the dark" Parents could never be so proud to bring such a beautiful creature to the world. "I wish all the best, to this little girl" Life was great But I wasn't truly welcomed Some people my existence upset. But as a baby and toddler, it was great all I had to do was breastfeed, cry and **** Then time happened and life became complicated. My mom cheated (or was continuously cheating) and there was no preset My dad wished there was a reset And me... I was treated like an asset; For money. For **** sake my young years have been duped. Jonesy 2019 ©
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Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 8:41 AM UTC
segirah-jones
Origins
Growing up as a child and a young teen was not the best, The memories up to this day traumatize me: I always remember the bad ones and never the rest. Now don't take this as a sob story I don't take well to pity, Just give me a few minutes to dwell On a childhood that was anything but well. It was the 29th day of March, A long and eerie night A miscarriage was near in sight The doctor told her: Its very possible that you will lose your baby After hours of pain and blood loss Came a bundle of joy with "cat eyes" that brought light to all a young mother's flaws. It was a miracle. "Its a baby girl, woah look at those eyes they are almost bioluminescent in the dark" Parents could never be so proud to bring such a beautiful creature to the world. "I wish all the best, to this little girl" Life was great But I wasn't truly welcomed Some people my existence upset. But as a baby and toddler, it was great all I had to do was breastfeed, cry and **** Then time happened and life became complicated. My mom cheated (or was continuously cheating) and there was no preset My dad wished there was a reset And me... I was treated like an asset; For money. For **** sake my young years have been duped. Jonesy 2019 ©
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28
Do you see me as a blemish? Do you see me as a wreckage? Do you see us as a fleeting second? I reckon you don’t know the shape of my hands impression Because you hazard hold on to her lesion-lesson Well, if you could pay attention I’ve got twenty one pilot pairs of scissors from Edwards hands And magic from Peter Pan that I met in Neverland That line Narnia’s closet door Hidden in Alice of Wonderlands floor Do you see me as a passing sigh? Do you see me as replacement high? Do you see us as a goodbye? I reckon you don’t know how your thoughts could fly Because you got glued down by the bad guy Well, if you allow that glue to lessen Ren McCormack would give you a dance lesson And I’ll teach you how to be fluorescent Like how jellyfish bioluminescent We would never waste a second Only love, would we beckon Do you see me as a wreckage? Do you see us as a fleeting second?
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Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC
emmy
Trap Door
Do you see me as a blemish? Do you see me as a wreckage? Do you see us as a fleeting second? I reckon you don’t know the shape of my hands impression Because you hazard hold on to her lesion-lesson Well, if you could pay attention I’ve got twenty one pilot pairs of scissors from Edwards hands And magic from Peter Pan that I met in Neverland That line Narnia’s closet door Hidden in Alice of Wonderlands floor Do you see me as a passing sigh? Do you see me as replacement high? Do you see us as a goodbye? I reckon you don’t know how your thoughts could fly Because you got glued down by the bad guy Well, if you allow that glue to lessen Ren McCormack would give you a dance lesson And I’ll teach you how to be fluorescent Like how jellyfish bioluminescent We would never waste a second Only love, would we beckon Do you see me as a wreckage? Do you see us as a fleeting second?
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23
On the map there 's a tripod And an eye blinking trying to focus Far away on a land called Tierra de Fuego And there  goes  my Muse's Range Rover Greenlaning la luz del amanecer Tracking butterflies orchids grasshoppers and dragons, Sad salads and fired bananas and dew And all sorts of bits and bobs Keeping corrections to a minimum. If it looks Topaz She didn't do it ! She's more like aurora, Traveling long distance with laughter Or lenses cooking light with cuddles Or stir frying a full curried moon over the volcanoes Of seven types of fired bananas Always worried about aperture and exposure My muse wouldn't live without her lens bathing Diving and swimming into the warm and shallow depth of field Just as she wouldn't live without her daily dose Of nine megapixels of bioluminescent plankton Because my Muse is an addict My muse is a Nikon D800 addict and an aurora addict as well Earthing and grounding relentlessly The inner storms of morning light Leading to her native archipelago Of Tierra del Fuego !!
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Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 6:07 AM UTC
cyclone-wolfok-baltimore
Tierra del Fuego y la luz del amanecer
On the map there 's a tripod And an eye blinking trying to focus Far away on a land called Tierra de Fuego And there  goes  my Muse's Range Rover Greenlaning la luz del amanecer Tracking butterflies orchids grasshoppers and dragons, Sad salads and fired bananas and dew And all sorts of bits and bobs Keeping corrections to a minimum. If it looks Topaz She didn't do it ! She's more like aurora, Traveling long distance with laughter Or lenses cooking light with cuddles Or stir frying a full curried moon over the volcanoes Of seven types of fired bananas Always worried about aperture and exposure My muse wouldn't live without her lens bathing Diving and swimming into the warm and shallow depth of field Just as she wouldn't live without her daily dose Of nine megapixels of bioluminescent plankton Because my Muse is an addict My muse is a Nikon D800 addict and an aurora addict as well Earthing and grounding relentlessly The inner storms of morning light Leading to her native archipelago Of Tierra del Fuego !!
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28
you love like you sin, terrified and breathless. intoxicatingly sweet, a poisonous temptation. bioluminescent boy, you’re dripping heartache from your seductive serpentine smile. fireflies in your veins like trapped dreams of those who fell, crashed, burned their way under your skin where you carry them forever.
0
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
necromantic
toxicity
you love like you sin, terrified and breathless. intoxicatingly sweet, a poisonous temptation. bioluminescent boy, you’re dripping heartache from your seductive serpentine smile. fireflies in your veins like trapped dreams of those who fell, crashed, burned their way under your skin where you carry them forever.
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10
Echoes of words never said reverberate through the desolate rotundra of my mind encapsulating stabbing nothingness featuring the limits of chaotic kismet until the shade creeps into my eyes like bubonic wraiths scouring the globe searching for cravings, craving the search discovering urchins and serpents alike in the ocean that now fills my eyes I watch a giant squid shoot ink and articulate itself away swimming to the bottom of my retina where everything is flatter to withstand the pressure bottom feeders suckle at the **** of the depths pervading my flattened vision swirling in a frenzy over pieces of my eyes floating downward forming an inescapable black mass trapping me in its rotating world until a bioluminescent olm wanders through trying to reach the surface its light inspires me to follow like I could grow to one day glow in the sheltered cove of my eyes the salamander rescued me to where the shade still exists with feeders beneath but all those do anymore is make my sanctuary feel like home.
0
Aug 22, 2023
Aug 22, 2023 at 6:18 PM UTC
andrew-rueter
Glowing
Echoes of words never said reverberate through the desolate rotundra of my mind encapsulating stabbing nothingness featuring the limits of chaotic kismet until the shade creeps into my eyes like bubonic wraiths scouring the globe searching for cravings, craving the search discovering urchins and serpents alike in the ocean that now fills my eyes I watch a giant squid shoot ink and articulate itself away swimming to the bottom of my retina where everything is flatter to withstand the pressure bottom feeders suckle at the **** of the depths pervading my flattened vision swirling in a frenzy over pieces of my eyes floating downward forming an inescapable black mass trapping me in its rotating world until a bioluminescent olm wanders through trying to reach the surface its light inspires me to follow like I could grow to one day glow in the sheltered cove of my eyes the salamander rescued me to where the shade still exists with feeders beneath but all those do anymore is make my sanctuary feel like home.
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28
A snowflake’s aura illuminates the room A ring of blue in the dark Bioluminescent particles Like little living sparks A bellowing voice in the void Sings the sweetest melody The walls move away Bring my love into this world My limbs unhinge themselves and set me free My body cracks open Light comes pouring out I can feel the winter air within me Mixing with my insides I throw my head to the sky And smile My heart is beating too fast Why am I afraid? The sunlights come in to greet me They take me in their arms I float nearer to you A head, floating among the snowcapped peaks Surrounded by aura of light You turn and smile
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
orybix
What's Happening To Me? (Pt. 1, Ascension)
A snowflake’s aura illuminates the room A ring of blue in the dark Bioluminescent particles Like little living sparks A bellowing voice in the void Sings the sweetest melody The walls move away Bring my love into this world My limbs unhinge themselves and set me free My body cracks open Light comes pouring out I can feel the winter air within me Mixing with my insides I throw my head to the sky And smile My heart is beating too fast Why am I afraid? The sunlights come in to greet me They take me in their arms I float nearer to you A head, floating among the snowcapped peaks Surrounded by aura of light You turn and smile
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23
RGB colors mind scramble on your ceiling, like in our closest amusement park. Playing underneath it, unicorns and feelings, making flesh shapes in the dark of your room. Bioluminescent in its black sea, I can't swim good but I ride the waves you send me. You can't read but you're rather well read to me. Promises wont break, but please bend me over and over again. When did I become this sober again? You get me wanting to remodel the homes that belong to lonely songs only so that they can fit a king bed, extra cool on my side because you're a furnace that I huddle into and cherish earnestly. You let me ramble run-ons and babble or be still and mute, be it swimming in space or silently disputing but I can never stay quiet too long. I can't ever hide whats wrong to you. Or what's right, so I write to remind you how beloved this is, unparalleled to whats behind and how eager I am for what's ahead.
0
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 12:41 PM UTC
tntcl
Mauve Prose
RGB colors mind scramble on your ceiling, like in our closest amusement park. Playing underneath it, unicorns and feelings, making flesh shapes in the dark of your room. Bioluminescent in its black sea, I can't swim good but I ride the waves you send me. You can't read but you're rather well read to me. Promises wont break, but please bend me over and over again. When did I become this sober again? You get me wanting to remodel the homes that belong to lonely songs only so that they can fit a king bed, extra cool on my side because you're a furnace that I huddle into and cherish earnestly. You let me ramble run-ons and babble or be still and mute, be it swimming in space or silently disputing but I can never stay quiet too long. I can't ever hide whats wrong to you. Or what's right, so I write to remind you how beloved this is, unparalleled to whats behind and how eager I am for what's ahead.
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Let us go nightswimming And weave myths out of memories Let the stars shine over The corals of your heart With bioluminescent algae Glowing around your body As if a glow in the dark crucifix Beatific as the moment of death Smell the salty air Neptune's drunken breath And dance by the beach With the partygoers drunk In their mythmaking Ecstatic like a monk Weave the night, yes weave Our breaths into a myth Into Odysseus sailing the Aegean Into the miraculous with the Galilean
0
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 12:10 AM UTC
levrosario
Nightswimming
Let us go nightswimming And weave myths out of memories Let the stars shine over The corals of your heart With bioluminescent algae Glowing around your body As if a glow in the dark crucifix Beatific as the moment of death Smell the salty air Neptune's drunken breath And dance by the beach With the partygoers drunk In their mythmaking Ecstatic like a monk Weave the night, yes weave Our breaths into a myth Into Odysseus sailing the Aegean Into the miraculous with the Galilean
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18
Time as a concept becomes especially troubling once it makes itself known. Now you’re against the clock. All progress a single stuttered step from falling apart. Brutalist landscapes masquerading as a bioluminescent, science-fiction sentient beings. Unfortunately the clock, is ticking. Hours go by the past increases the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing regrets mounting. Do you understand? When it all burns, as I assure you it will, every empty office lobby and husk of window looking down from tender jagged tenement towers will pour rivulets of ash across broken bricked sidewalks like crawling fingers of lace. Only the mosquitos will remain unchanged. Spilling deftly from the same canals as each and every brood to have ever come before. Nipping the skin of those left behind, to sing the names of the dead into the corn seeds scattered hopefully in cold air.
0
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 4:10 AM UTC
somethingwithhorns
Explaining The Moon
Time as a concept becomes especially troubling once it makes itself known. Now you’re against the clock. All progress a single stuttered step from falling apart. Brutalist landscapes masquerading as a bioluminescent, science-fiction sentient beings. Unfortunately the clock, is ticking. Hours go by the past increases the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing regrets mounting. Do you understand? When it all burns, as I assure you it will, every empty office lobby and husk of window looking down from tender jagged tenement towers will pour rivulets of ash across broken bricked sidewalks like crawling fingers of lace. Only the mosquitos will remain unchanged. Spilling deftly from the same canals as each and every brood to have ever come before. Nipping the skin of those left behind, to sing the names of the dead into the corn seeds scattered hopefully in cold air.
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34
There was a time, she said to me not so long ago. It made me think about the things I don't already know. I don't know if she loved me, her feelings were unclear. I can tell you how my hands would shake whenever she came near. I don't know where the light is, I can't seem to find the switch. I can tell what the dark is like, she's a vacuous soulless ***** I don't know how to "love" myself, I can be quite the **** My apathetic nihilism is enough to make me sick. I don't quite get consumerism, is this something I should know? Buying **** that I don't need just to help the market flow? I once claimed to play piano, the fact is that I don't. I could say that I want to, the fact is that I won't. So many things left unmentioned, these things I don't know. Like lightening bugs and that crazy bioluminescent glow. There is something that should be said before I have to leave. About a certain someone I keep tucked up in my sleeve. She calls me out and lays me down stealing every breath. A demeanor so befitting it would puzzle even Death. Of all the things that I know so very little of. She would be the only one that I could say I loved.
0
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
jamison-bell
I don't know
There was a time, she said to me not so long ago. It made me think about the things I don't already know. I don't know if she loved me, her feelings were unclear. I can tell you how my hands would shake whenever she came near. I don't know where the light is, I can't seem to find the switch. I can tell what the dark is like, she's a vacuous soulless ***** I don't know how to "love" myself, I can be quite the **** My apathetic nihilism is enough to make me sick. I don't quite get consumerism, is this something I should know? Buying **** that I don't need just to help the market flow? I once claimed to play piano, the fact is that I don't. I could say that I want to, the fact is that I won't. So many things left unmentioned, these things I don't know. Like lightening bugs and that crazy bioluminescent glow. There is something that should be said before I have to leave. About a certain someone I keep tucked up in my sleeve. She calls me out and lays me down stealing every breath. A demeanor so befitting it would puzzle even Death. Of all the things that I know so very little of. She would be the only one that I could say I loved.
Continue reading...
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