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"bristle" poems
The artichoke of delicate heart ***** in its battle-dress, builds its minimal cupola; keeps stark in its scallop of scales. Around it, demoniac vegetables bristle their thicknesses, devise tendrils and belfries, the bulb's agitations; while under the subsoil the carrot sleeps sound in its rusty mustaches. Runner and filaments bleach in the vineyards, whereon rise the vines. The sedulous cabbage arranges its petticoats; oregano sweetens a world; and the artichoke dulcetly there in a gardenplot, armed for a skirmish, goes proud in its pomegranate burnishes. Till, on a day, each by the other, the artichoke moves to its dream of a market place in the big willow hoppers: a battle formation. Most warlike of defilades- with men in the market stalls, white shirts in the soup-greens, artichoke field marshals, close-order conclaves, commands, detonations, and voices, a crashing of crate staves. And Maria come down with her hamper to make trial of an artichoke: she reflects, she examines, she candles them up to the light like an egg, never flinching; she bargains, she tumbles her prize in a market bag among shoes and a cabbage head, a bottle of vinegar; is back in her kitchen. The artichoke drowns in a *** So you have it: a vegetable, armed, a profession (call it an artichoke) whose end is millennial. We taste of that sweetness, dismembering scale after scale. We eat of a halcyon paste: it is green at the artichoke heart.
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16.7k
Ode To an Artichoke
Who are these farmers, And who, these fertile fields, Verdant under native grass, That stand un-plowed, That shake beneath the plow, That lie now fallow, That bear the planted seed, That wear the heavy grain, That await the Harvest pain? And who, these Harvesters, And who, these close-shorn fields, Desolate in short-cut stubble, That stand, stiff in silence, That wear the heavy tracks, That have endured the harvest, That yielded up their dead, That bristle through the falling snow, That whistle wind-song low? And who, these merry Farmers, And who these stubbled fields, Glistening beneath the melting snow, That warm beneath the glowing sun, That host the migrants of the sky, That tremble the biting plow, That accept the falling seed, That wait beneath the welcome rains, That cycle through the seasons once again?
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Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
These Farmers; These Fields
A bird rests its wings On the thin disfigured fingers of The trees branches Reaching ever so helplessly To pull the clouds from the sky And the breeze beats them to the stroke – The wrinkled eyes of the painter grin in an open field With a canvas the bristle has yet to caress Before rolling it up Like a chess mat Or a map He taps it shut like a telescope Departing for home where there is a woman waiting for him To inhale her sweet aroma To swallow the food she’s prepared To delicately draw the hair Falling over her face And tuck it behind her ear And whisper the words And brush her skin with quiet hand-language And he will not be beaten To the stroke (c) 2015
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Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
Strokes
“We love what we don’t know, what it’s lost already…” Jorge Luis Borges I hang on to your portrait, in front of me; among candles, copal, and all those things you worship in a mexican altar to the death. You are my invisible jaguar, you appear before me, between dreams, and I fell alive. Full of wounds, lacerated by my absence, I put your portrait in front of the altar that my mind has conceived, and you seem to hold the paradise's secret in your hands,which are made of ashes. Then, according to the mexican & catholic tradition, like a rural priest, you start to draw a cross, made of the ashes of your magic, sacred hands. The smell of the whole, sacred being that exists in this spiritual plane, lays on your profile, so beautiful embodied in your portrait, which I prefer above any other reflex. Finally, when I think on your lips, is when I stop believing in anything else, and just keep on holding the devotion that I worship to your portrait... Then I chase each single one of the naked, flaccid, vulnerable memories of you, trying to protect me. I think of you, so profoundly and vividly right now, that my skin transpires, bleeds, my muscles are tense, and my mouth recites your name with all and its last name. I wish that, under a supernatural power, you're also thinking of me, at this precise moment, and that some thought can touch me below my skirt, and make the skin of my white buttocks to bristle. White –Blanca in Spanish-; the name of one of my childhood’s friend. And the same color of your so polish, european skin. The rainforest of your sacred Chiapas. I need you excruciatingly. Like a dagger into my body. I will like to see your portrait being devoured by the flames, but I do not have the courage to throw it to the fire, for its image will become strongly painted in my mind, and the effect that you exerts towards me it will be more powerful. Dangerous. I had a dream a couple of hours ago, it was me, so earthly, being blessed by your voice, and the tattoo you have on your left arm, being kissed by my simple mouth. Our skin, together, united, white, is the wall where the moon lays on, Lays in our bodies making love, in a black hammock, conjuring with our pneuma to the whispering of the rainforest...
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Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
To your portrait’s devotion....
“We love what we don’t know, what it’s lost already…” Jorge Luis Borges I hang on to your portrait, in front of me; among candles, copal, and all those things you worship in a mexican altar to the death. You are my invisible jaguar, you appear before me, between dreams, and I fell alive. Full of wounds, lacerated by my absence, I put your portrait in front of the altar that my mind has conceived, and you seem to hold the paradise's secret in your hands,which are made of ashes. Then, according to the mexican & catholic tradition, like a rural priest, you start to draw a cross, made of the ashes of your magic, sacred hands. The smell of the whole, sacred being that exists in this spiritual plane, lays on your profile, so beautiful embodied in your portrait, which I prefer above any other reflex. Finally, when I think on your lips, is when I stop believing in anything else, and just keep on holding the devotion that I worship to your portrait... Then I chase each single one of the naked, flaccid, vulnerable memories of you, trying to protect me. I think of you, so profoundly and vividly right now, that my skin transpires, bleeds, my muscles are tense, and my mouth recites your name with all and its last name. I wish that, under a supernatural power, you're also thinking of me, at this precise moment, and that some thought can touch me below my skirt, and make the skin of my white buttocks to bristle. White –Blanca in Spanish-; the name of one of my childhood’s friend. And the same color of your so polish, european skin. The rainforest of your sacred Chiapas. I need you excruciatingly. Like a dagger into my body. I will like to see your portrait being devoured by the flames, but I do not have the courage to throw it to the fire, for its image will become strongly painted in my mind, and the effect that you exerts towards me it will be more powerful. Dangerous. I had a dream a couple of hours ago, it was me, so earthly, being blessed by your voice, and the tattoo you have on your left arm, being kissed by my simple mouth. Our skin, together, united, white, is the wall where the moon lays on, Lays in our bodies making love, in a black hammock, conjuring with our pneuma to the whispering of the rainforest...
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57
I wasn't always so easily discouraged. I used to bristle with enthusiasm. I glowed with it. It didn't matter if the task was simple, or tedious, or daunting, or boring. As though on rails, I slammed into each and every task with terrific force. But I got older. Things that used to come easily grew slippery. What I used to do without thinking twice, I found myself over-thinking. I threw the brake. I ground to a halt. Finally, I became idle. A left-over husk of a kernel that's already been popped. I drowned myself with doubts. Hypothetical situations that might never happen. I lived in fear of what might go wrong. So I began to watch everything go wrong, as though I was helpless. I was no less able. I was no less compassionate. But I had grown wary. Of what? What was it that, out of nowhere, caused me to slow down? I guess I looked down and realized that if I fell, I would not be getting back up. When you're young, you have no worries, because nothing is relying on your success. So you mess up a math problem. You'll get it eventually. So you botch things with that cute girl who sits across from you. You're young, you'll get it. Re-assurance, faithfully, unwaveringly. A safety line should I fall. But I never really fell, did I? So why am I laying down like I have? Get up. Get up. I worry about everything. I worry that I will fail. I dread what comes, what I can't avoid. But time, and time, again, it comes, and I miraculously don't die when it hits, because I've been bracing for a train-wreck impact, a force that will really, truly, finally, definitely lay me flat for good. I close my eyes, and brace. But the crash never comes. The silence that was continued to be. I turn behind me, but there's no train there. I'm starting to realize, with relief, (with horror), that maybe all I needed to do was step off the track. I look down, and realize, with a first-creeping then-howling laughter that I was never on the track to begin with. I look off where the track is. There's no train there, either. Maybe there never was. Maybe there never will be.
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Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
Maybe I'm Worried About Nothing
I wasn't always so easily discouraged. I used to bristle with enthusiasm. I glowed with it. It didn't matter if the task was simple, or tedious, or daunting, or boring. As though on rails, I slammed into each and every task with terrific force. But I got older. Things that used to come easily grew slippery. What I used to do without thinking twice, I found myself over-thinking. I threw the brake. I ground to a halt. Finally, I became idle. A left-over husk of a kernel that's already been popped. I drowned myself with doubts. Hypothetical situations that might never happen. I lived in fear of what might go wrong. So I began to watch everything go wrong, as though I was helpless. I was no less able. I was no less compassionate. But I had grown wary. Of what? What was it that, out of nowhere, caused me to slow down? I guess I looked down and realized that if I fell, I would not be getting back up. When you're young, you have no worries, because nothing is relying on your success. So you mess up a math problem. You'll get it eventually. So you botch things with that cute girl who sits across from you. You're young, you'll get it. Re-assurance, faithfully, unwaveringly. A safety line should I fall. But I never really fell, did I? So why am I laying down like I have? Get up. Get up. I worry about everything. I worry that I will fail. I dread what comes, what I can't avoid. But time, and time, again, it comes, and I miraculously don't die when it hits, because I've been bracing for a train-wreck impact, a force that will really, truly, finally, definitely lay me flat for good. I close my eyes, and brace. But the crash never comes. The silence that was continued to be. I turn behind me, but there's no train there. I'm starting to realize, with relief, (with horror), that maybe all I needed to do was step off the track. I look down, and realize, with a first-creeping then-howling laughter that I was never on the track to begin with. I look off where the track is. There's no train there, either. Maybe there never was. Maybe there never will be.
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32
I am not your **** toy Not a plastic doll Your fantasies Don't get to come True on my account These aren't your fun bags My *** is not to smack My skin longs For the touch of fingertips But crawls at the thought Bristle before, relax Never knowing What unwanted touch Is coming next Never knew to say no Never knew wrong was wrong Until it was all too late Doctor in the barn Damaged on the trail Grabbed my wrist -- was I wrong? Drank it all away Faded into blackness Forcing through the door Older now Learning once again They only want one thing from you; You're just a last resort So feign for their attention Gave as good as got Dove right down that rabbit hole Trying to drown it out And still -- trapped, touched Touche But then again, and "No" That famous word So infamously hard to hear Too ashamed to fight back Give in Then Live in FEAR Let me say again Because it bears repeating: Give in, then Live in fear Bare -- Repeating **** Say it with me now Such an ugly word How does it make you feel Do you feel ashamed Are you feeling scarred Do you feel her fear Or is it not so clear? Do you feel Powerful now Or is it All her fault Such an ugly word So,  say it with me now **** Found out what it means to me.
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
****
Old goatherds swear how all night long they hear The warning whirr and burring of the bird Who wakes with darkness and till dawn works hard Vampiring dry of milk each great goat udder. Moon full, moon dark, the chary dairy farmer Dreams that his fattest cattle dwindle, fevered By claw-cuts of the Goatsucker, alias Devil-bird, Its eye, flashlit, a chip of ruby fire. So fables say the Goatsucker moves, masked from men's sight In an ebony air, on wings of witch cloth, Well-named, ill-famed a knavish fly-by-night, Yet it never milked any goat, nor dealt cow death And shadows only--cave-mouth bristle beset-- Cockchafers and the wan, green luna moth.
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2.8k
Goatsucker
My mom offers me a bowl of oatmeal she cooked at seven. It is eight. Sitting on the stove, it looks clumpy and cold — a mash drowning raisins. I pretend like I don’t see it. But it calls my name as I start my day, even though it looks repulsive and I have avoided oatmeal since college. I toast some bread. She glances over the counter to see if I am paying attention  — a reflex from my childhood. Because as a child,  my parents said I had selective attention. — sometimes I listened and other times I didn’t. When they got divorced, it got worse. I was distracted by the bristle of my dad's 5 o’clock shadow and the sigh in my mom's voice when they asked me separately, What time I needed to leave? and If all my stuff was packed? But all  I kept thinking was: Is that all there is? You get married, get divorced, and cart around your kids. The thought of swallowing this is repulsive. like leftover oatmeal,  it stares me in the face. I don't want it. Most girls I know are raisins — They already have their whole wedding planned on Pinterest, and their kids names picked out. Everytime, I  see engagements on FB, I can't help but forsee divorce and I wonder why people run for a partner, kids, and a mortgage, when in college their ambitions were more. I wonder when their mid-life crisis will be, or when they'll wake up and want more than 9 to 5 to fulfill a lie patriarchy put forth. So I spread peanut butter on  toast and murmur, “I put the oatmeal in the fridge — someone will eat it.” My mom puts her head down and finishes her coffee. I eat my peanut butter sandwich. I am stuck trying to answer an impossible question, as she begins sentences like "Once you get settled, you'll want to look for someone..." I tune out. I don't have selective attention, just the perception that everyone is ignoring this important question: Is that all there is?
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
Is this all there is?
My mom offers me a bowl of oatmeal she cooked at seven. It is eight. Sitting on the stove, it looks clumpy and cold — a mash drowning raisins. I pretend like I don’t see it. But it calls my name as I start my day, even though it looks repulsive and I have avoided oatmeal since college. I toast some bread. She glances over the counter to see if I am paying attention  — a reflex from my childhood. Because as a child,  my parents said I had selective attention. — sometimes I listened and other times I didn’t. When they got divorced, it got worse. I was distracted by the bristle of my dad's 5 o’clock shadow and the sigh in my mom's voice when they asked me separately, What time I needed to leave? and If all my stuff was packed? But all  I kept thinking was: Is that all there is? You get married, get divorced, and cart around your kids. The thought of swallowing this is repulsive. like leftover oatmeal,  it stares me in the face. I don't want it. Most girls I know are raisins — They already have their whole wedding planned on Pinterest, and their kids names picked out. Everytime, I  see engagements on FB, I can't help but forsee divorce and I wonder why people run for a partner, kids, and a mortgage, when in college their ambitions were more. I wonder when their mid-life crisis will be, or when they'll wake up and want more than 9 to 5 to fulfill a lie patriarchy put forth. So I spread peanut butter on  toast and murmur, “I put the oatmeal in the fridge — someone will eat it.” My mom puts her head down and finishes her coffee. I eat my peanut butter sandwich. I am stuck trying to answer an impossible question, as she begins sentences like "Once you get settled, you'll want to look for someone..." I tune out. I don't have selective attention, just the perception that everyone is ignoring this important question: Is that all there is?
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57
This one time, my mom and I said goodbye to Juan's mom and we walked from her apartment to wait for the elevator. Mom didn't like it when I wouldn't stand still- sometimes she'd smack me upside my head just to make sure I was there (accompanied by her motherly calls of malcriado)- so I'd look in any direction for a distraction or two. Through the window a few feet from my left, I could see two older ladies in curler hairdresses bochinchando like caffeinated hens about the awfully friendly suelta living next door to gallina #1 (they hung their hand-me-down nightgowns and their husband's boxers with such professional care; if any article escaped the grasp of family clotheslines, it was roadkill forever). I turned to the right of the elevator doors, counted the tar-black patches of decade-old gum on the floor, finished the half-written sentences sprayed in ***** rainbows on the sweaty walls by the zig-zag flight of stairs. A boom and a click, and the door creaked open with the sideways grace of a crab. My toddler's impatience boiled past the brim, I exclaimed "FINALLY" and began to walk forward. Not a second later, I heard a "NO" behind me, my mother grabbing the back of my cartoon mouse t-shirt, letting out an ay cono, pendejo that echoed eight stories down, past the empty space substituting for an absent elevator shaft, soaring down that rusty freefall at ten thousand times the speed of a human boy's body. Letting out a long exhale, my mother did not allow her emotions to brim over the barrier-she recomposed herself, all the while silently chanting hymns of gratitude in dedication to fate and her reflexes. We decided to take the stairs. In my youthful oblivion, I noticed a toy store right outside the building from the corner of my eye- I plan to start begging when we're at the bottom, if we ever get there. My mother took her sweet time walking down those many steps, reveled in the scratchy bristle of the concrete against her sandals, cultivated a newfound admiration for my atonal imitation of a Washington Heights car alarm- it was a sign I was still there.
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Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 12:14 PM UTC
Hearing Footsteps
This one time, my mom and I said goodbye to Juan's mom and we walked from her apartment to wait for the elevator. Mom didn't like it when I wouldn't stand still- sometimes she'd smack me upside my head just to make sure I was there (accompanied by her motherly calls of malcriado)- so I'd look in any direction for a distraction or two. Through the window a few feet from my left, I could see two older ladies in curler hairdresses bochinchando like caffeinated hens about the awfully friendly suelta living next door to gallina #1 (they hung their hand-me-down nightgowns and their husband's boxers with such professional care; if any article escaped the grasp of family clotheslines, it was roadkill forever). I turned to the right of the elevator doors, counted the tar-black patches of decade-old gum on the floor, finished the half-written sentences sprayed in ***** rainbows on the sweaty walls by the zig-zag flight of stairs. A boom and a click, and the door creaked open with the sideways grace of a crab. My toddler's impatience boiled past the brim, I exclaimed "FINALLY" and began to walk forward. Not a second later, I heard a "NO" behind me, my mother grabbing the back of my cartoon mouse t-shirt, letting out an ay cono, pendejo that echoed eight stories down, past the empty space substituting for an absent elevator shaft, soaring down that rusty freefall at ten thousand times the speed of a human boy's body. Letting out a long exhale, my mother did not allow her emotions to brim over the barrier-she recomposed herself, all the while silently chanting hymns of gratitude in dedication to fate and her reflexes. We decided to take the stairs. In my youthful oblivion, I noticed a toy store right outside the building from the corner of my eye- I plan to start begging when we're at the bottom, if we ever get there. My mother took her sweet time walking down those many steps, reveled in the scratchy bristle of the concrete against her sandals, cultivated a newfound admiration for my atonal imitation of a Washington Heights car alarm- it was a sign I was still there.
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77
Gwuts on gwanilliagax Ready hot gwip Trill on the vibrant note gabeeboh What a thril it is to be in nice gazeebo What a punk that doused on the free zobe What punctillious panagax that frigged all the wets out And when the trip to the sausage make didnt pull down alaz Alaz, I am the wet tug. Alaz, the sprig of wheat ***** taint. Didn't you say you loved me? Well, the bruts on the wagon sauce now Didn't me have a big one, tug one, sauce one? Well elemayo gwit gwits gwit gwits gwit gwit.....gwit Embryo collecting on the branch of a saggy My baggy be ripped, dripped all the can out Me step on a puddle, the wet one, the biggy My pets on the leg, rub, all on it sticky, how ****** He chugs out a wet belch and creams on the gricky How quaint is his fat bristle comb, of his **** I am assured This great honkulous tank sub that brits on my dimbo,in limbo my ship It greats on the grates treat me to a sub snack ship ***** ***** factory get e Tag me on your webpage, then **** me silly
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Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 11:01 PM UTC
The Drip of Pestilence in my Ding-Hole 8-9-C-Me
There's a form of rodent In Latin form "quill pig". He isn't very fast. He isn't very big. But be very cautious If you encounter one of these. They are very nasty, Mean, to say the least. They bristle up and like cacti, They have a vicious will... You don't need to touch one to be Nailed with a quill. They will flick their tail at you To let their venom fly, So give this beast.a lot of room When you see him going by. People who are insecure Will be like them so watch out! You don't want to be around When they start to pout... Their quill will rend and skewer. The quill/ pen has its art. It will send a poison pen Straight into the heart. SoulSurvivor aka Write of Passage aka Invisible inc Catherine Jarvis (C) 2/12/2015
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Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
Porcupine
I won't tell you he was just a little odd, he was very odd, for obvious reasons. The troll boy he was called, was very tall. "How tall "? you ask, the tallest of them all, and above his waist none would ever rise. His long hair upwards would grow, like gravity with him was playing a cruel joke, adding many more inches to his height and like a bristle brush painting the sky, His hair with every dawn like the sun would glow, warm orange, and bright red but every night the glow subside to the moon's bright white.
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
The Troll Boy Song
You, my old companion, I’ve junked three trucks and still I keep you. Buried five dogs. Raised three children who are now raising children. And still I wear you. You jingle when I walk. Nails clink in pouches. The drill in its holster slaps my leg. The hammer in its clip spanks my **** You bristle with screwdrivers, chisel, big fat pencil, needlenose plier. You call attention. Random kids who have never seen a tool belt before follow me around asking “What are you doing?” Then: “Can I help?” You smell like me (and I, like you). Leather, fourth decade. I’ve washed your pouches with saddle soap, sewn your seams with dental floss. Now the web of your belt is fraying, wrapped (silly, I know) with duct tape. Your pockets fill over time. Once in a while I remove every tool, every last ***** and nail. I hold you upside down and shake. Sawdust, a dead spider, little strippings of insulated wire will fall out. And once, my missing wedding ring. It had broken. I had taken it to a jeweler for repair, but when I got there I couldn’t find it. A year later, you coughed it up. When your webbing finally snaps, when you drop from my waist, maybe it’s you, old tool belt, I’ll take to the jeweler for remounting, for buff and polish. He’ll understand.
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Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
Ode to a Leather Tool Belt
Little kitten i would have your purr and bristle fur inside of you i'd be lion strong And you could scratch and cut and use me as your post. And i would drink you up up up my tongue my throat a vestibule in time catching and licking and suckin and taking you in sublime. All fluid and raw flesh and blood My hunger for you is feline *** canine Bloodthirst, this urge this roar inside of me for you. Animal intent I am your awakening, the ache to your throb you pulse through my veins and i want to be taken in your claws. You are not submissive and i am not Domme but you'd melt in my paws. Up high Against a wall i would carry you on my shoulders your back against the wall and drink and breathe and become your flesh from within you i'd break and re-mould and detail the design of your love for me. I would be your strength embodied a boy of flesh of depth of passion of friendship fashioned intrinsically with love and Oneness. I can only be the only one.
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Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:24 AM UTC
Little kitten
It starts with a pinch and an itch, Between your shoulder blades, Trickling down your spine like a bead of sweat. You groan hot and heavy, Doubling over in pain clutching at your stomach, And you have this urge.... Your canines enlarge, Further sharpening. The hairs on your arms bristle. Standing on end when you hear the first tear of skin, At the base of your spine. And it splinters your mind. A wine high pitched and wanting, A gasp as your hair thickens. A pelt of fur to keep you warm, There is pain between your eyes, Your jaw stretches inhuman and ugly. Legs snap and your squatting on the floor, Arms pulled close at the elbow, Back hunched over. Dirt digs under your fingernails turned claws, As you grip the steady earth for purchase. You feel your heart beating against your shifting ribs. Strong, Fast, And aching. Lungs constrict and your eyes fly open. Blinded by the ethereal light of the full moon. You cry out, Human voice bellows loud, loud, loud! The beast sings in your ear. A roar, A howl. The transformation done. We are free.
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
Hello Skinwalker
I didn't love him because of his looks. I know this because the whole time I knew him his face was covered By a blanket of red bristle he took great pride in. I fell in love with his soul The window to which I could see through smiling hazel pools. And when I think about it, I mean really think about it, It all happened in an instant. Not the instant him and I met for the first time, But the instant I realized he wouldn't let me run away from us. I should have known though. I should have kept running. Because the instant I stopped? Our roles were reversed.
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Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
Marathon
Two sapling oaks, grow side by side, in the soft silt savanna swamp The sun awoke, and shadows hide, their roots begin to stomp The oaks move the earth, and stretch the sky, as they yearn towards each other’s touch With their growing girth, and branches high, Purposefully extend, to feel each other’s clutch They grow, slow, and methodically Taking their time, placing each leaf in the sun. They reach, each other hydrologically Sharing the wealth beneath the ground as one. As decades turn into centuries, an exhaustive passing of time The mighty oaks are living free, in the middle of their prime Yet, still they yearn, for one another touch To have their bristle branches brush in the warm wind as such Though… a century more may need to pass. For the old oak trees to touch Patiently waiting in the soft silt savanna grass The long time doesn’t seem so much
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Apr 30, 2023
Apr 30, 2023 at 10:47 AM UTC
A Longing for Touch
He knew that he was an Alien, He knew that he was peculiar, He knew that he was different, He knew the Air-Prince would continue to encourage others to Strike-Out at Him~ whether they knew the meaning of that which he spoke ! They even made fun of his name~ they would blurt out~ There goes "AWKARD AL" ~ Words bellowed out~as if to a 100psi ! ! They tried to throw enough "HOT" words to Blister~His Back. Then one day, while at a concert, a few moments before it was to begin,~ a LOUD Murmuring ~ hovered over the audience. and in Unison they proclaimed ~"There sits ALDIN AWK, the man whose words Bristle with Brackishness .! and they~.....Chanted in unison " His words Bristle with Brackishness" , they repeated the chant over and over. Aldin stood up, the crowd thinking ~that He was about to leave the concert. To their surprise~ he walked to the stage~ was handed the microphone~ bowed his head for a Moment...... and as He began to speak~ "EVEN GREATER WERE THE BRISTLED WORDS OF BRACKISHNESS" that came from him thru the tears "Pouring forth" ....
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Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 7:52 AM UTC
" ALDIN AWK " ( #61)
Hold hands and dance together. Open your mouths and sing in unison. Blink and allow your tears to hit the soil. Watch the sunset resemble a softer shade of crimson. Shape shift and make funny faces. Wide spread and cover any spaces between. Draw streaks and form inedible cotton candy. Make the ever changing weather patterns your creed. Partner with the drum player. Hire the trumpets as well as the whistles. Throw in a bit of lights, some lasers too. Gather a silent choir of particles, should I call it bristle. Welcome the darkening sky. Make way for the approaching moon. Take long naps or read each other books. All the while waiting again for the return of noon.
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May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 1:41 PM UTC
Correlative Community
bristle cone pine, a wine-stained, burgundy - conniption of green fires, yellow tinged. sunset. a fresh net of spun gold, roasting fecundity - a bristling of midnight at day's end, thundering. a harangue of unyielding pattern her hair down; now as always... conquering - all of me.
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC
Red Salamander
She prepares her kit To turn into someone else She's done this for years Not knowing how to be herself She smears her lips With a bright bold Mac Drawing an artificial smile Hoping she wont crack She grabs her eyeliner And traces her eyes As strokes of mascara Send lashes toward the sky She dips herself in powder And draws two circles for blush She irons her natural hair With every bristle and brush With this new mask on She could now face the world Yet I still wonder Will I ever meet the real side of this girl?
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
Masked Beauty.
Your lovely eyes, two dark bamboo beetles bristle with fervor ready to battle with mine, seeking truce; your belligerence, has a stirring effect. I am aroused beyond limits.     Now is the time to act, make wild love,     ending the lovers' tiff.     I sign the treaty of withdrawal     with a passion filled kiss,    summoning all the force    in your command, you seal it,    with an incomparable another.
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Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
End of a lovers' tiff
Touch A heightening of senses Touch Bristling beneath it Horripilation Sweeping up bodies - From the Latin, horrere pilus, "to bristle" + "hair" - The most delicious Can be the most poisonous Exploding with each Touch Anticipation erupts Touch At the very thought Of such delicious fruit Touch
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May 16, 2023
May 16, 2023 at 11:21 AM UTC
Horripilation, To Bristle the Hair