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"blazen" poems
He has coffee in his blood, He dances with brown camels. White wide paths of knives Are curved deep among the mountain passes Of ribs wrapped in soft desert of skin. A tongue athlet and a sound alchemist, A reluctant nomad with wheat hair, Who's driven by his crazy-grooving heart So rarely though so far. Sometimes a train, sometimes a net, Sometimes a piece of paper Will take him. But most often he is joining with genies In their bottles. And spirits take him To the caves, the deep blood-vessels. He's silent mostly and his back is bent Though he is tall. He walks all cloaked in weary clothes And idle anger both. As it dictates him his prideful eagle's nose. He bears also marks of roots, Of runes, of flame, of anchors, Dancers. His bones look at you in their clutches From beneath the skin Of his thin fingers. He builds the towers shaky, Weak. And so, they're almost living, Breathing. He've found a cat in a banana And lets it live inside his elbow. The grey in northern sky is his. He reached his fine hands And left it there. He touched the sun And then again. He put it in his lighter With his fingertips. So he occasionally has a light from the sun. He prays to metal and walks two roads at once. He tolls the tree from which he hails. He hangs from a branch. Or does he just stand Downwords and his back is lying on The branch on which he stands? He buried his gold and digs it out only For fire and jokes, for bitter and smoke. A cow of three eyes and a bee on his blazen Are joing in drawing.
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Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:59 AM UTC
Prince of East
He has coffee in his blood, He dances with brown camels. White wide paths of knives Are curved deep among the mountain passes Of ribs wrapped in soft desert of skin. A tongue athlet and a sound alchemist, A reluctant nomad with wheat hair, Who's driven by his crazy-grooving heart So rarely though so far. Sometimes a train, sometimes a net, Sometimes a piece of paper Will take him. But most often he is joining with genies In their bottles. And spirits take him To the caves, the deep blood-vessels. He's silent mostly and his back is bent Though he is tall. He walks all cloaked in weary clothes And idle anger both. As it dictates him his prideful eagle's nose. He bears also marks of roots, Of runes, of flame, of anchors, Dancers. His bones look at you in their clutches From beneath the skin Of his thin fingers. He builds the towers shaky, Weak. And so, they're almost living, Breathing. He've found a cat in a banana And lets it live inside his elbow. The grey in northern sky is his. He reached his fine hands And left it there. He touched the sun And then again. He put it in his lighter With his fingertips. So he occasionally has a light from the sun. He prays to metal and walks two roads at once. He tolls the tree from which he hails. He hangs from a branch. Or does he just stand Downwords and his back is lying on The branch on which he stands? He buried his gold and digs it out only For fire and jokes, for bitter and smoke. A cow of three eyes and a bee on his blazen Are joing in drawing.
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Oh pasta wig! My angel hair pasta hair blows in the wig. Olay. Sorbet. Touch the slop. With a drop. Don't stop. Clip clop. Pitter patter tip top. Goes the batter of all matter. Toe mater Cars 2, see it in theatres. I have bronzen blazen brazen. All amazen. In the amazon. White Lightning.
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Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 1:21 AM UTC
Rugged Soghard.
Violent clangs echo From the TV, And the Bride is a Vengeful gazelle, Galloping forth and eviscerating the ones who stand in her path to---         **** Bill again?                  Is that all you do when I’m gone? Snort          Coke, get high, lounge back          And watch this ********* **** The cigarette burns hot in her fingers, Smoke sighing from her lungs and She smiles silently. Plum lips pucker And one hand beckons him forth, the other raising a silent finger. Skin tight yellow and black Hugs her curves and she triumphs, golden goddess Reclaiming herself in a Blazen trail of ****** Revenge.       “Come on, I’ve been gone and now         I’m here. I’ve missed ******* you        And hearing your pretty little moans.” Ashes on her pant leg, feet flex and She rises up, eyes fixed on the screen. Cat eyes smirk and she takes his hand, Dark bob razor sharp as she dreams About the day she’ll wield the katana.
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
**** Bill
Take me to the lamppost Where my heart goes to gleam Replace the fire with the spark from the sea See the way she radiates back at me Take me to the lamppost Where the light has dimmed See what once stood bright and constant now holding only things that became dark and exanimate Take me to the lamppost Where memories of the light Try to hold on best they can Though loss is drying, blurred in the mute sand Take me to the lamppost To what once was gold and blazen Remind me of what used to be Fire kindled through glass; and see! Take me to the lamppost Where I yearn to see the light That was once within.
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Dec 29, 2019
Dec 29, 2019 at 12:39 PM UTC
Take Me to the Lamppost
Ignite the forecourt - shroud it in smoke, blazen the grasses and let fires stoke, ashen our ocean - try strangle my throat. Yet I'm un-charred, fire be my cloak. Cinderous lashes boil form from the sky, sooten the beast mocking grievous its smile, charred lie the echo of places worthwhile. Still I'm unscathed, none yet defiled. Scorch of the essence and drain the air lame, infernal ravages torch all they've lain, engulf their waters - stricken the rain. None-yet I burn, donning each flame. Sweltering heart guiding palm of the sun, nova my spirit let darkest nights shun, beacon my body through despair I come. Let me rage blinding, everbright one,
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Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 10:39 AM UTC
Everbright
You do a simultaneous favour To spiderwebs and fire As they dance in your depth And I skim across your surface Skitterishly Watching the blue flow up into blue And the blue sink down into blue Reaching fingers reluctantly down, and up, Broken only By the water-colour green in between- I want to be the surface That only I can break, That holds the horizontal Between you & your sky; I I want to be within And outside of your Deep, light body At once (Till I can no longer feel the hot burn On soles and blazen palms) And then stay so until spiders Build their home on my shoulders. • I'll stay still for them, And you. So you can make patterns across my arms- Cobwebby patterns of (strobe) light- And I will fly inside you, Because you are my sky. This is why I now only swim Upside-down; Because I feel like I am flying
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May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Swimming Pool;
The molten kisses, blazen passion We had. I bit my tongue and traded it in The starry eyes you had for me. I am sorry I lied. I did not feel the same. I took a hammer to your heart which so rarely opened up for Me. Me? I did not deserve all the love you had for me. So I breathed glossy, and decided to trade it in I put on my act, shimmered and shined. I knew my brain and beauty.Charmed far beyond that secluded Manchester town, where you hailed from. I was from the city lights. I was on the brink of pyramid top. Daddy was Sipping Moet, but not yet Perignon. The Brink is the worst. So I tossed you and climbed up. I got more than I ever desired. Diamonds big as plums. Hunting, in a wood named after his Papa. My dog was on Tatler! Vogue wrote about my gown. But I knew you would need to be gone. So in this loophole of vanity and fame, diamonds and pearls I miss you late nights alone drenched in icy cold hearts But I knew my choice would go, and I would miss you tonight, yes I would. Your warmth haunts my memories. Smile. Honey, Smile. Let your ambition and greed overpower love. I blink Once Twice I don't need warmth. I will be back to that life happy. At the break of dawn.
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Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
I lied.
Your hands in the sand, Your pupils expand As light hits your eye before sound does. The colors will land And sparkle And dance As joy hits your face when the sight does. The crackles and pops, The crackers that hop, And bound ever higher in the air. The dust as it sops, The stars as they drop And land in the grass at the fair. And that’s how the fireworks get you, Touch your heart like the shower’s intent to. They’ll land in the glade where the tents had been made As the following show reinvents you. Your hands in the sand, Your pupils expand As the flame hits your eye when the scream does. The now blazen land Will spread out And dance As the terror hits your face when the scene does. The crackles and pops, The voices that hop And bound and ring in your ears. The soot as it sops, The thuds as they drop And land in the ash as you feared. And that’s how the fire works; It won’t touch you, but it’ll still hurt. See, there once was a glade where the tents had been made And a fire would make your heart burst That’s just how the fire works.
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Nov 13, 2024
Nov 13, 2024 at 4:28 PM UTC
The Fire's Work
amber fire courses through my veins my breath is cold to the core my eyes blazen with rage and agony my skin hot with fierceness & rage hair drenched in bloodied silk my eternal screams of hell can be heard for centuries
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Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
my personal hell