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Ivan Ray Dec 2015
Breathtaking beauty settles before my eye’s
Palpable is this peace in a land where air is thin
While beaming brilliance, lights the skies

Rage is visible in the irate tides
Of the Rocky Mountain rapids crashing by
Breathtaking beauty settles, before my eyes

With a scent of bristlecone pines
Drifting on wistful winds
While beaming brilliance, lights the skies

Over the ridge valleys rest in dark disguise
As shade is thrown down from heavens above
Breathtaking beauty settles, before my eyes

Eager for this moment to last, time I do despise
As stars align in a language read by gods
While beaming brilliance, lights the skies

Omnipotent powers string these patterns
That rest above great valleys in masterpiece
Breathtaking beauty settles, before my eyes
While beaming brilliance, lights the skies
I was inspired to write this poem after stargazing in Buena Vista, Colorado.
JS Clark May 2017
The lightning forks forth
Shoots Up north
Like spindly shafts in
Perfect formation.
Strange synchronization
In Martian formalization--
Grasped in nightmarish,
Garish mitts of particular
Deviant sensations...

Little Alice enters her Wonderland,
Not by the rabbit’s hole--
Rather a guillotine’s hand...
Her Wonderland;
This dreamscape quicksand--
With snakes writhing; convulsing  on lurid
Inferno bandstands,
Pushing the limits of your understand--
With preposterous and impossible socks;
Technically causing bruising on acid brains.

Meanwhile The Martian walks the streets
Of the Big Apple in
A deep diver’s suit,
Picking along his way, low hanging and
Chromium laden passion fruit...

And Alice, she like what she sees.
She likes the alien’s helicopter breeze--
She’s all about melting clocks draped upon
Bristlecone Pine trees--
And she’s going to fly into the mouth of the
Martian’s galactic lion, and **** on it’s liver.
Michele M Apr 2013
Lately her dreams have been playing out like the beginning
Of a clichéd dime store horror novel
Always awakening on page three
The theme it varies
Sometimes it is about Vampires and Werewolves, sometimes Zombies, or even some crazed psychopathic serial killer

But what never varies is that she awakes on page three where the dark place starts
It also happens to be between 3:00 and 3:15 am in the morning
The Witching Hour
She recalls a quote from a movie she just recently watched, “Pitch Black”
Riddick: “They say most of your brain shuts down during cryo-sleep. All but the primitive side, the animal side. No wonder I'm still awake.”

Sleep is a required activity, not an option, and is needed for survival.
Yet when she dreams, she is deeply awake
Yes her primal side is on constant alert
And not sleeping can be deadly
Rats deprived of sleep will die within two to three weeks
A time frame similar to starvation
Her primal side is always hungry so she must she feed it


When she gets to page three in every story there is always a door
A big wooden door made of bristlecone pine
With runes and symbols upon it
From cultures she is familiar with and cultures unrecognizable
Covering since the beginning of time

It is when she pushes that door open and walks through That she finds the dark place
Where she begins to acknowledges her shadow self
And that the world is not rose tinted and fluffy
That fear of the dark is a wasted and useless fear
And she is able to embrace her hidden desires
The unknown

In this dark place she brings death, for without death the earth is not fertilized to bring new life
She is the Destroyer, for without destroying that which is no longer needed, things cannot grow
She is a murderer, for there is evil in this world
And the children need protection from it

She is the keeper of magick and mystery
For the dark fuels it all

She realizes that when behind that door
If she were to suppress her dark self, it would build in intensity and break out uncontrollably
So she embraces it all

And when she awakens from page three at the witching hour
She is exhausted but stronger, eager, and ready to
Tackle subjects such as violence towards women, war, child/animal abuse, ******, and death
Topics avoided in polite society
And she can deal with these subjects in a healthy manner
She is sister of the Dark Goddess

Page four always begins in the light of day
She continues to write the rest of the story as time passes
So her sisters and their daughters will no longer fear the dark
Nor fear their own dark place or primal selves
They too will walk through the big wooden door
Heads held high
They will weave new stories
New beginnings
Become warriors in their own right

After all, someone has to be willing to face the boogie man down…..  ~M
z May 2015
potpourri of stale disheveled grasses,
arcane and forbidden mouse holes, and masses

of leprous bristlecone pine, acid atmosphere, of venus.
sweltering, permeates gold, naked, anti-shade crevice;

torn from digested fence to digested fence.
a seething sneer in the canopy, turbid herb scents

(of spring, or morning, or rain, have since
been mumified to accompany summer’s rescindment).

and ground-dwellers, caterwauling, as this eutrophic sea
is the ulcerated stomach of a carnivorous beast.

lust drives the ferocious field,
scorching as automotive steel.
z Dec 2016
it was swell to think the city’s smell is less sickening
than the soulless scent of pressing forests of bristlecone pine
fertilized lawns now sterile with nature’s pesticide,
the crystalline flesh of some cold, lonely comet.
the forests silent and silicate as the moon’s lifeless surface
trees packed, cartooned and phobic, like salted fishes hanging
with no throb of night-dwelling insects to hasten dawn’s arrival
no sidewalk nor always-lit subway maw as a means of escape.
cause of death? no depressive episode could match such exposure;
the mood-numbing nocturne of the inaccessible semi-suburbs
marching off between the sentinel forests of the northeast.
brooke Mar 2016
maybe i got caught up in that rustic
devil-may-care way that you leaned
on any counter, how the hot oil from
your grandmother's pans shot up and
flecked across the posterior of your
hand and you didn't even flinch, just
sort of sighed through your teeth
and how I spent the few seconds after
that wishing I could press myself against
your back because you are so solid.
But I digress, because I've learned that
idolizing people is a mess of self-inflicted
palsies

Nevertheless, my affinity for compounding
problems manifests in my lack of willpower,
in your forearms that are like thick bristlecone pine
branches, dry and scarred with your
obstinance--

and when you would go to wash your
hands, you'd roll your sleeves in
this rough, intensely **** manner
with your hip pushed up against
the lip of my sink, working the
dirt out of your knuckles.
So as you kneaded your fingers
back and forth; your Venke's
pulsing, I found myself to
be too hungry for you,
for this

I've never been around so much
man,  so much cord and bark
i've never touched a person and
not felt like I was going to slip
through them like some spectral
being, like their spine would
give way before they bend in
two around my palm, barely
grounded by their own
body weight.
The difference is (was?) that
you feel so full, so stalwart
and



(I got to thinking; maybe I wasn't ready.
Because for all your worth, all your
redeemable qualities, I'd cashed in on
the way you made me feel when
I hadn't for so long and that's not
the way I want to,
Not the way I
Want to
Not the
Way )
and we are

(c) Brooke Otto 2016

i wanted to leave this in my drafts but here it is.

written to Death Row by Jimi Charles Moody, definitely sets the mood if you're interested.
bulletcookie Dec 2016
The very thought of you
strums time out of day-*


This baked wilderness defies emptiness
as cactus flowers bloom for none
in sun's blistering sorcery
as scaple sharp, shadow surgery

Of this sovereign heat spell
bleached dunes give way shells
crackling weeds, sentry sands
let arid Bristlecone land

Downward rooted and hoary
fibrous fingers sprout steadfast
retelling scrub brush stories
of phloem wine, mirage's vacuous blast

Clouds, in debt to ocean's soul
owe, are owned by Helios aloft
shape shifting steamy billows
promising royal anointment

Then this evening after life
when all is but spent in scurry strife
let it dwell upon a dream
of leopard rains and keystone schemes

Before silhouette night's numb lull
forcing close to petal's remit
in desiccated continental drift
prepare this silent will

-cec
clmathew Mar 2021
~A man travels
from Mindanao to Kyushu and says his inner geography
is enlarged by each new place.
Is it?
Might he not grow more by staring for twenty-four hours
at a single pine needle?

—Arthur Sze, "Parallax", Gift of Tongues

Trees!
written March 22nd, 2021

I know the answer
to the question posed above
is of course the single pine needle
but I am tired of this pine needle
day after day, year after year
this same pine needle.

I am sure if my heart opened enough
this pine needle would teach me the answer
to the question I can't think of
that would make everything ok
but I want to see other trees!

I want to see trees I never imagined
armies of them marching over hills
and also the lone banyan tree in the desert in India.

I want to see the first tree after crossing the ocean
and the last tree before the tundra.

I want to see the Tree of the Year!
every one that is still alive!
and mourn the ones that don't exist anymore.

I want to see the 5000 year old bristlecone pines in California
and visit the seedling I planted in grade school in our backyard.

I want to see the tree of life Yggdrasill
and Anne Frank's chestnut tree in Amsterdam.

I want to see every tree
growing along every fence-line
on every field men have ever plowed.

Only then, maybe, will I be satisfied to return to
this same pine needle.
I have a thing for trees! The European Tree of the Year is a real contest! There's a popularity contest I can get behind. Yggdrasil is a mythological tree, but that was sort of the point, to never get back to that same pine needle lol.

The banyan tree mentioned in the poem is a specific tree I remember seeing on a school grounds when I was an exchange student in India.

I grew up in the Midwestern United States, so those trees along fence lines are very familiar. Those are the trees I grew up with. Stubborn, sneaky trees placed just right to not be plowed under. And yes, I chose to have men plowing the fields. Historically that's how it was in my family and in families around us.

I obsess about punctuation, and ultimately just hope that people will read it in their own voice, taking breaks where make sense for them.
Jena T Jul 2020
Roots burrowed deep
Roots burrowed shallow
A tree clinging to a cliff
While climbing to the sky,
Cancerous roots
Spreading out
Grasping ground
Solid foundations
Ill winds won't knock it down,
Twisted tree
Its bark is scarred
Old and gnarled
Survived a lightning strike,
A squirrel family
And a woodpecker or three,
Aged back to Roman days
Its past pain is clear to see
A beauty unique
Should I live thousands of years
I think I'd be as twisted as this tree
skyy omalley Jun 2020
ed,,zinger suivante,,tels handknits finish,,cagefuls basinlike bag octopodan,,imbossing vaporettos rorid easygoingnesses nalorphines,,benzol respond washerwomen bristlecone,,parajournalism herringbone farnarkeled,,episodically cooties,,initiallers bimetallic,,leased hinters,,confidence teetotaller computerphobes,,pinnacle exotically overshades prothallia,,posterior gimmickry brassages bediapers countertrades,,haslet skiings sandglasses cannoli,,carven nis egomaniacal,,barminess gallivanted,,southeastward,,oophoron crumped,,tapued noncola colposcopical,,dolente trebbiano revealment,,outworked isotropous monosynaptic excisional moans,,enterocentesis jacuzzi preoccupations,,hippodrome outward googs,,tabbises undulators,,metathesizing,,sharia prepostor,,neuromast curmudgeons actability,,archaise spink reddening miscount,,madmen physostigmin statecraft neurocoeles bammed,,tenderest barguests crusados trust,,manshifts darzis aerophones,,reitboks discomposingly,,expandors,,monotasking galabia,,pertinents expedients witty,,chirographies crachach unsatisfactoriness swerveless,,flawed sepulchred thanksgiver scrawl skug,,perorate stringers gelatine flagstones,,chuses conceptualization surrejoined,,counterblasts rache,,numerative,,delirifacients methylthionine,,mantram dynamist atomised,,eternization percalines hryvnias pragmatizing,,reproachfulnesses telework nowts demoded revealer,,burnettize caryopteris subangular wirricows,,transvestites sinicized narcissus,,hikers meno,,degassing,,postcrises alikenesses,,sycophancy seroconverting insure,,yantras raphides cliftiest bosthoon,,zootherapy chlorides nationwide schlub yuri,,timeshares castanospermine backspaces reincite,,coactions cosignificative palafitte,,poofters subjunctions,,aquarian,,theralite revindicating,,cynosural permissibilities narcotising,,journeywork outkissed clarichords troutier,,myopias undiverting evacuations snarier superglue,,deaminise infirmaries teff hebephrenias,,brainboxes homonym lancelet,,lambitive stray,,inveigled,,acetabulums atenolol,,dekkos scarcer flensed,,abulias flaggers wammul boastfully,,galravitch happies interassociation multipara augmentations,,teratocarcinomata coopting didakai infrequently,,hairtails intricacy usuals,,pillorise outrating,,cataphoresis,,furnishings leglen,,goethite deflate butterburs,,phoneticising winiest hyposulphuric campshirts,,chainfalls swimmings roadblocked redone soliloquies,,broking mendaciousness parasitisms counterworld,,unravellings quarries passionately,,onomatopoesis repenting,,ramequin,,mopboard euphuistically,,volta sycophantized allantoides,,bors bouclees raisings sustaining,,diabolist sticks dole liltingly,,curial bisexualisms siderations hemolysed,,damnabilities unkenneling halters,,peripheral congaing,,diatomicity,,foolings repayments,,hereabouts vamosed him,,slanters moonrock porridgy monstruous,,heartwood bassoonist predispositions jargoon dominances,,timidest inalienable rewearing inevitably,,entreating retiary tranquillizing,,uniparental droogs,,allotropous,,forzati abiogenetic,,obduration exempted unifaces,,epilating calisaya dispiteously coggles,,vestmented flukily ignifying complished hiccupy municipalize,,pentagraphs parcels sutler excavates,,stardust miscited thankfulness,,fouter pertused,,overpacks,,guarishes hylotheism,,pi Fresh blood seeps through the line parting her skin and slowly colors her breast red. I begin to hyperventilate as my compulsion grows. The images won’t go away. Images of me driving the knife into her flesh continuously, ******* her body with the blade, making a mess of her. My head starts going crazy as my thoughts start to return. Shooting pain assaults my mind along with my thoughts. This is disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. How could I ever let myself think these things? But it’s unmistakable. The lust continues to linger through my veins. An ache in my muscles stems from the unreleased tension experienced by my entire body. Her Third Eye is drawing me closer.
I.

These prayers are written in a place of space:
Our love would last forever.
We are meant to be together

II.

Seventh profound graces, adorest, Gabriel wings
Sixth. A shell, a fantasy of stone, icy cold.
Fifth silver cranes soon flutter at drips meadow,
Fourth. chamber quartet burred with melodic skeletons.
Third spires thrusting in soul’s firmament.
Second had bristlecone(evergreen) in cloudy chamber.
The first was an ascending lark, soft is caul of breaths.

III.
Fire ceased when all ashes left are the bones.
Lift him to the spiral stairs of freedom.
Eternal light in this place called home.

IV.
Together, we sang and to have timeless passion
We sheltered his eyes, with lighted roses
External tree of life endurance heaven’s gate


Velvet memories are never grow old
These prayers are written in a place of space…
A requiem song that dedicate to sudden loss of friend. He was a thinker, poet, and a person who has passion to life....
Satsih Verma Feb 2019
The gnarled fingers
will retrieve the flowing
moon from the river.

Like bristlecone
you stand in hot desert to-
catch the setting sun.

Peace! where will
you find it in dust of
the halted moments?

— The End —