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vircapio gale Jul 2012
she is my nihilistic god;

i am a stag leap.
the fainter wind-caress
felt deep in trunks and boulder bed.
i am delight for loosened thorns
that piercing underfoot will spur to run
my naked body's open-air embrace
atop the callus of my seasoned fun,
skirring flora shadow-dancing bright
descending mountainside of noon
in blurrs refracting sightful bones.
i am the sense of
transtemporal glacial moans,

the heartbeat of the soil breath
to puff from feasted log a mycophile's awe
or want for all placental webs in view
for naming earth a seeping sorrows tithe:
my consciousness of things alive.

the stinging lungs atop the path
are emblems of a winging truth
to overcome her nearing death.
i am the lingham of creations' race.
i am the sensate reeling blow by empty blow.
the gravity of light and dark;
gray theopolis of fists and falls.
envelopment of massive meanings filled
in nether-branchings' net
and mediatrix scorn: the wider world absorbs my self as ~ all~
~. .all. . ~
prating some nepenthean law
to sour our poetic hate
and deeply bury seismic seeds she wants to sow, like
ancient clues of metagender fact:
hermaphroditic **** to 'normal' eyes.
icecaps to resize and singing moralize;
a dolphin midwife toning yoni love
for labor certain nuns call "gift"
as crown of pleasure heights
on par with mysteries;
regrowing infant fingertips,
to pi recited over days,
to vaster mindscapes drawn in ways
'beyond the genius of the sea'

why wait for ease of shame?
thin veils of culture lift
and family bonds anew to tow
the peace from out irratic weight of nation rifts;
instantiations burst beyond the tunnel course~
rhythmic doomsday yearnings line the halls of humantime:
prophetic visions of a sea to come,
Utnapishtim keeps himself alive
to garden with his wife a thriving mortal line.
Quetzalcohuatl finds himself *****
to bloodlet savior sexuality,
his heart a morning star, a Mayan Venus shine.

i see the standing trees
entwine slow-love to sky
so i can swing and heave
my universe above the words,
to carry thorns as well as petals, doves.
the vision ends. the new begins
to filter dyad lies through
inter-
corporeal lens.
embodied ivy climbs the tree of death
to rewind love and deepen love,
to bound the loss with goddess wisdom ends and other ends
of ouroboros shedding clear
of limits insight thrives to near.
sunglance peeking is the hovering of me,
steady comfort crosses floating lotus feet.
the softest rock has melded under thee
to join a forest pausing here.
a berry soaks itself of all i am
while nutty chipmunks chirp in whirls;
the clouds are girls you've been,
Nephelae to tease in quenching gowns
the verdant book of men we've known, who leaf
the air to taste another form of fairness lent.
silver is the sun in times of stillness overached.
sifted tensions drift to lie awake, but
drowning in a stream of glowing calm,
i am the woody balm.
the scent of bark unnestled dry
and leaves remembrance when
the breathing stops, the final
fleshing in of nowhere, never then.
you are transcendent of transcending
pure. end, endure and lucid ending live again
in empty worship ringing plenum om.
abracadabra I wanna grab ya
don't tell Da and don't tell Ma
a Halloween gala  
a ghost town, caw-caw  
abracadabra I wanna grab ya

Abracadabrabroo me Godzilla now shoo
shelling out with toothless spider-Hue
got no candy?  Duh
this ain't Malibu...
Abracadabrabroo I'm Godzilla now shoo

Abracadabri got the heebie jeebies Gartzie ?
well smezzle pezzle see this old machete
gonna hack your back
cuz I got the knack
Abracadabri got the heebie jeebies Gartzie ?

Ala shazam its a bloodlet moon fricassee
everyone is shakin' I don't care, Tee hee !    
served them Grinch tea  
now they all have to ***  
Ala shazam, its a bloodlet moon fricassee.
Joseph Flores Jan 2018
Memories sweet ~
Salty dreams ~
Aqua-quixotic mind.
The last frontier ~
Summertime.

Girls Gone Crazy.
'In Surf I Trust.'
Bermudas.
Ray-Bans.
Beach or bust.

Abalone divers.
Seaside gusts.
Creamy skies ~
Blood-orange dusk.

Ocean perch.
Cliffside diving.
Crab claw, snap!
Child crying.

Nets ascending.
Fish school scatter.
Skipjacks dance.
Whale spray splatters.

Back bay blues ~
Cool to settle...
Boats return to quall.
Couples trek ~
Beyond the dunes.
Where love ~
Is known to fall.

Lights to glow ~
Dim to shining.
Rides and music ~
Boardwalk rising.
Dipped and Battered.
Fresh fish fryin'.

Flashing neon ~
Midway prattle.
"Step right up!"
Razzle-dazzle.
Ring a bottle.
Toss a dime.
"Winner, winner"
Every time!

At once and sudden.
Of my glimpse.
Soft-serve skin.
Perky sized.
Corduroy curls.
Topaz eyes.

Monokini ~
Thread bare brief.
Sheer to cover ~
Her coral reef.

Of my ask ~
To my surprise.
867-5309
Gently scribed.

Forelock flipped ~
Savory smile ~
Lips goodbye.
A kiss implied.

Boardwalk bevy  ~
Slow to nape.
Forth to wander ~
Eveningscape.
Foggy mist.
Lunar tide.
Surf and sand ~
All collide

Off the beaten ~
Of my stride.
Drunks and loafers '
On each side.

Sundowners.
Late night Croaker's.
Spent syringes.
Midnight tokers.

Spiny docks  ~
Cast slanted shadows.
Tiny shanty ~
On the shallows. 

Mild fire,
Silhouette.
Tiny dancers ~
Cheap wine fest ~
Marijuana pow-wow ~
Wasted luau ~

I've gots to go.

Back to camp.
Do-si-do.
Surfside fox-hole.
Jacques Cousteau

Sandy hollow ~
Tide in tow.
Pop tent clears ~
It's ebb and flow.

Underneath ~
A starshine drape ~
Edge of sleep.
Wide awake.
Unseen struggle.
No escape..

Dark abyss ~
Midnight still.
Blue Whale calf ~
Bloodlet trill.

Orcas make the ****



Eerie silence ~
Beyond the reef.
Mist and mizzle.
Much to sleep.
Roaring waves ~
Crash the beach.

Stretched a long ~
Sand and daft.
Dawn slowly cracks ~  
At the aft.

Pastel egg ~
In the sky.
Sunny side up ~
The morning rise.

Inspired sight ~
Dawn shine lends.
California coast ~
Never ends.

Sandy ribbons ~
Beach belt bends ~
Emerald coast ~
Santa Ana winds. ~

Wind swept sparkles ~
Main sails sway.
Catamarans ~
Balboa Bay.

Health nuts  ~
Spandex ~
Own the morn.
Cyclists. Runners.
Life reborn.

Bleach blond beatniks ~
Chap-Stick chicks.
Surfers paddle ~
Waves to pick.

Jack not nimble ~
Jack not quick.
Jack wipes-out!
Lickety-Split.

Quilt-patch slum ~
Checkered lots do fill.
A teenage infested ~
Squattersville.

Hawaiian Tropics
Silver Oxide
Pubescent hormones ~.
Flourish topside

Bohemian families ~
Converge on beach.
Along the Rocky jetty.
Mothers chase ~
Big straw hats ~
Rolling off the windy.


Lunchtime snack ~
Seagulls gather.
Gap-toothed kid.
Defends his platter.
Relentless gull wing ~
Pitter patter.


His dukes held up.
He stands to fight.
As the bird gawks aloud ~
He flees in startled flight.

Noontide high ~
Chaise lounge cozy ~
Calls my name.
On the dozy.

Sleeping. Headache.
Spittle drooling.
Sunburned.
I wake to wonder ~
Was I dreaming?

My summer daze!

Saw a paper ~
Tossed of mine.
As unfolded read:
867-5309

My summer days!
Scarlet Mar 2019
Can I ask something of you?
Just a small favor
I want you to take a knife, and cut me.
Allow me bleed out all my insecurities.
Drain me of who I am
in chance that I’ll become who I once used to be.  
Extract my flaws and allow me to shed this ugly image.
Guide me towards who I want to be.
Help me
Renew me.
Please just save me.
Can you do that for me?
mike dm Apr 2015
you invite
the cut,
you know you do

bloodlet come
dust off those bad humors
that have already won

one
incision
on the inside of inner-thigh,
nicely
neatly: remedies indecision for a wee bit
doesn't it?

confirm that silly string
and pipe cleaners
aren't reeeally your insides

lifely! lifely! qualifies your moves
in this
thing
this
****** sadwhirenoughenough

you jus
Buddha the hurt afterward
but emptiness of being always keeps
a few of your you's and me's around
ricocheting off far unkempt corners

like me, the pigeon
and you, the squirrel

...

look, they've already won, my love;
no,
they -always- have already won
so, plz, don't k?

jus don't

don't assemble upright-me as your
night-n-shiny handle

don't fix me la-la opposite his hard gleam
his trite inky blah bodkin Brahmin to my Bodhisattva
i can't, won't do it anymore,
my core torpid
Luke Skywalker warm
JSL Oct 2016
I craved your soul but you wouldn't let me have a taste.
I was looking for a place to burn but you wouldn't let me warm myself.
I was after someone who'd appreciate my dying heart but you're too beautiful to care.
I would cry in the comforting disconsolate of your callous heart but I am too prideful in my worth.
I could have done anything for you.
It's never good for the heart to suffer this way but I believe in the price of penance I have to pay to find Nirvana.
I could of, would have, loved you; to allow the patience bloodlet that only demons can inspire.
But.
I wanted to love you more than I could ever love myself; so imagine my hurt when you decided I was the worthless, cut-flower ornament to your perfection.

To leave me bleeding.
To let me die.
To **** me with the care you never gave.
TO DAIN.
JSL Nov 2015
I have a sick obsession with pain. I always try to find different flames to feed my blood to. Bleeding frees me. After so much misery the soul just somehow develops a taste for hurting. The potency of pain flirts so well with the heart when it's despondent. Like a spark of fire in the lonely night. So I go out to the world, searching; for any sublime beauty that's greedy to hurt me. But after all the wounds, deaths and scars, you have always been my favourite to bloodlet to.
To the Great Fives.
Tiberias Paulk Feb 2016
Bloodlet in a paper cup, my chalice has been broken
one that spills and fills right up when sanguine lies are spoken
half forgetting where I was, the path was long and winding
she asked me why and it's just because the breadcrumbs seemed worth finding
but please don't lose that special one, the smile within the locket
for the darkest night has just begun, and you'll need light in your pocket
when once I fell, you picked me up and dusted off my chalice
but now your words just trick me up and fill my cup with malice
Robert C Ellis Nov 2016
The doom of the marsh,
Of conversations,
consonants keying the walls
The trickling, like stroked water
Delicately balancing history
Atop The Dream of Money
Enough to not feel
Not to reel
From the chokers, the faucet
The bloodlet
Derrek Estrella Oct 2018
Here comes Jacques
On the pavement
Screaming at the sediment
Of conditional skin
People calling out, “a hack!”

When’s the next race
And when’s the next attack?
Who’ll be under the tracks?
Soul’s got no control
No more, ‘till the look is late

They seem catatonic
Stuck in the soul of fate
It is a gene state
Someone ought to stalk the hawk
His language is sardonic

See through the bottleneck?
Reliance on sonics
To repress every chronic
Malfunction of compunction
Here’s the future, bloodlet

We may not see what we deserve
Someone birthed us to forget
The role of a conscious pet
What’s within the ship’s fins?
The well-fed wield a coat of fur

Scream into the water well
It might throw something up to sell
Justin S Wampler Jul 2021
I want one sharp enough
to cut through this garbage import porcelain,
I want one sharp enough
to cut through god.

Ain't even hungry yet,
just desperate to cut
something uncuttable
into beautiful pieces.

Poly grip feels good
in my aging hands,
are you sharp enough
my shining friend?

Serrations are preferred,
whetstones and gravel.
Gimme something to slit.
Something to bloodlet.

Something whole,
something begging for
division.

Something to flex my arm into.

— The End —