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Linda Pahl May 2014
this roaring fire in my belly
consumes me like a cleansing brushfire
preparing the ground for new growth

from the ashes of my former self
wiser, stronger, less afraid,
like a phoenix, i will rise
To see the image that inspired this:  

http://instagram.com/p/oJZ6h3zdwT/

.
Jeremy Betts Dec 2023
Forget her
Don't suffer to remember just to suffer forever, sucker
Lust safer
Rub one out and see if the hunger doesn't expire a little quicker
Cold fire
Flip it 180 and record what's bound to transpire
Loves quagmire
Simple desire will always inspire but ensnare a liar

Shifty empire
Not strange to aspire to be a vicious, succubus, vampire
Almost satire
An enticing lure to offer for sure but unstable as brushfire
Situation's dire
Sooner than later fall victim to the inevitable backfire
Flimsy tightwire
An act in need of fools for hire, speaking to the choir

©2023
Lora Lee Jul 2017
the tectonic plates
in me
are shifting
     as our continents
approach collide
my ocean is
getting closer
to the mountains
on your landscape
  tallest grasses blowing
         in wild demon dance,
                shaking their
          heads as heated
storm approaches
oven-baked air crackling
    with its own
         electric currents
Nothing can stop it
it's a magnetic force
              one to be
                   reckoned with
               surrendered to
as dust foams
like ocean froth
around our heads
clinging to us in tiny
starlit fragments
and soon will come
        the slick dive into
             wordless waters,
                    just skin on skin
        slippery mouth muscles
like entwined snakes
flick-flicking, shiny
in eye-lit cherry moons
Take my hand.
Just pull me in.
Enfold me,
          without talking
watch as my aura
rushes into you,
first a delicate whisk
             of cool light
to slake the thirst
of coal-licked caverns
then sparks
and bubbling oxidation
turning into liquid brushfire
Hold your palm
to my chest,
as if to keep
    my heart steady,
        my glowing flare of halo
  pressed into your
clavicle, taking in
the embryonic beats
soothing my torrid ache,
infusing minerals
in vitamin-laced libation
It is time to simply bask
in the new
crispness of radical
shake off
           the silt and salt
and rise up
into the spheres
      of memory
      of soulspeak
of collapsed time zones
budded breath
spiraling up
in curls,
       diaphanous
dark mist
ascending
                 into
           light
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDACd-ShjHk

enough words
sometimes ..just breath and skin
( a wish sent out to the stars)
Lacey Clark Feb 2016
Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Always daydreaming
Each one a test

I'm a hopeless optimist,
Some may say.
Tossing petals on a silly rose,
wasting the day.

The idea of love,
So open and free
Thought provoking, mysterious
Until it gets to me.

Then I recall,
Why I prefer being alone.
It's hard to find peace,
In someone else's home.

By home, I mean mind
Two becomes one
You both have to share it
To simply enjoy the sun

Idiosyncrasies,
Start to synchronize
The way we view life
Is seen through one set of eyes

We become a machine,
Two bodies and one brain
A lovely entanglement
Loneliness has been slain.

You passed the test,
And you've set me free,
But only through binding,
The concept of 'you and me'

Romanticism is
Melancholic at best
Until the real thing comes,
And starts a fire in my chest.
Ryan Vallee Feb 2019
i’m dying soon
on the side of a highway
as cars pass like comets
and trucks rumble by
to stir the gravel
as avid teeth sniff
me out to pull
at my porcelain skin
before the bird beaks leap
from the sky
to peck at what’s left
of my brushfire bones
i’m dying soon
and it may just
feel
like any other day
that i’ve known
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2013
The cordons of existence are constricting
For the keepers of the dream have let us down,
Who will buy tomorrow if performances are hollow
Causing all the global spectators to frown?

American has been the silk pyjamas
Since ’45 they’ve lead the world’s display
In health and wealth and brandishing the muscle
But in recent times it seems they’ve seen their day.

For since Clinton’s time the National debt has spiralled
They’ve departed brushfire wars in disarray,
Default now looms obscene with disharmony supreme
With Congressional leaders ranting in the fray.

The fiasco of a Government held to ransom
By a faction of extremist’s from the right,
Whilst the greenback in decline won’t change water into wine
The dire threat of fiscal chaos causes fright.

So global confidence is fading in the dollar
And the watchers shake their heads in blank despair,
For the willingness to follow is now a bitter pill to swallow
When the USA’s rock steadiness aint’ there.

So, what’s around the corner for tomorrow?
What aspirants are waiting in the wings?
With a fading USA perhaps it’s China’s turn to play
Though that’s going to mean adjustments made to things.

Of course we’re venturing into territory’s unchartered
And the crystal ball consulted, isn’t clear
But one thing I can assure, if this is what we must endure,
Is that our tomorrows will be something, now, to fear.*

Marshalg
Auckland N.Z.
19 October 2013
Vidya Sep 2013
I.

You can always tell the
Virgins from the way they
Glide—cerebral giddy with nectarfilled
Hearts and earlobes full of
Wax/
Wane moonshine turf if you’re not
Dying for astronomers’ loves and what makes
Ptolemy different from Claude is
Given prove:
Equal and opposite reaction.

II.

Shove knife down pork
Wasn’t so hard, was it.

III.

TWO SOLIDS INTERSECT

In a plane. In the bathroom, to be exact.
What follows is not
Essential to the proposition;
Calculate the spatial
(surface area, volume of cubicle,
conclude insufficient is <
where escape
velocity is )
useless to
resistance factor 7 [prepare
for lift-off landing
taxi

To the Bronx of course where else would I
Be on a night like this it’s raining in the parlour
Wont you step outside?

III.

anemic & half-
starved half-
sandwich
go on,
have a bite.

IV.

in arm will undulate bloodcellspouroutcantstoptoowide
are you just imagining this?
What would they tell you in school blood is
thicker than water
i’m not sure they eat
carnivores here.

CARNIVAL
festival of meat.

Flesh
LIVE
trembling
quiver SWIFT shoot through air DUCK dead swandive nosedive outplug
BOOM go the couple in the cabin
lavatory
laboratory? Rats go bang in the night

crash & burn debris over Detroit is our
favorite way to die
colorful isn’t it rainbow—
brushfire—
bruises and fire storms out and around the
populace to decimate seems like mating by a factor of ten

V; or. X^2+i(70x7)=

aftermath:

my ex squared
with me seventy times
seven
equals in
fortitude (labor-intensive)
tea costs sixpence in dallas what about
you so
integral to my
being that sometimes I wonder if you’re just
imaginary or if
what it takes to be transcendental is
beyond what’s rational or even what’s
real to me:

eight is
enough for the eggs.
King Panda Dec 2017
the sun prowls around
its rocky master

and you
a shadow in its breath

your eyes closed
your hair blowing
like a brushfire
bleeding oolong

the brazen claps of
sunlight thunder
down upon your shoulders

a freckle appears

then another

then another

your sea of blank skin
now crushed
tiny islands
cooling you in
sun-drenched picture
Pragya Chawla Apr 2016
in pealing season, she is a girl of lousy ingrowth
she is an unkempt corner; kitchen sink. legs pulled like knives. phone call her curled tendons; isolation in
grit and fibril      
she is women with wings. this is how we stymie the rapunzel. we carve the ugly into her. we teach her to wear skin like saran. skin like punishment
                        cut-coin the rumpelstiltskin. how she is  wound and string, paper-doll; bird-in-a-box
how we wring the juice of her on washcloth. hung upturned from the ceiling fang; plucked and feathered
like apology. cherry-picked; veins like mikado. how it is dark and she is blind-bat wind-warriors; waterboarded with no hands
upturning the paper boats of her in every follicle; how the flipswitch insecurity eats her like pickle. in a storm
she is neither nor tongue nor limb
just breast, bone, the weight of mirrors
how we jettison when the grief is heavy. abandon. thick, empty abandon.
alone in grit-cusps when the monsoon has eaten into the white, wispy mortuary. dark in hallways; yet pale and slender. she is beautiful.
we lift her ribbed corpse off the shoreline.
we unload the offering like red carpet;
this is how we wrap her in white and weary-eyed
translucent. how unavoidable we become when we are the last hope. crippled. when we look hope in the eye. askance. how she will beg you to look at her with the heart in the honey-jar; torso in tourniquet
how the walls are ripped in shades of askance. how we look away.

how us, walls, look away.
how, us, walls, askance.
how we drip of askance; how the pink flesh and cherry-limb slips like matchstick on brushfire
how there is purple and primrose and bruise
there are some spots on the floor where it still reeks purple and yellow and bruise
how we are
               lousy
                         ingrowth
here.  how we
                                                              ­   try
to
pluck
                             and *erase
Amelia Apr 2014
remember, chances are
you will die in an earthquake bigger than Haiti's
or sizzle in a brushfire más caliente que Hades
or perish on the smog with your stupid lungs that don't breathe
with one of our 3.858 million
love thy neighbor
Invocation Jul 2014
sweetness evades me, hiding in my stomach. being broke is not the worst, i guess.. until hunger shakes my bird bones - skinny not an issue, but weightlessly i drift to the keyboard back and again and with lazy eyes tracing the pattern provided over and over a few times more before
heart drench me
beating around in the brushfire
i stand on delicacy, shiver and stammer, foreshadow until you can't reply without stepping on my long skirts trailing
and i just woke up, i have no idea what i'm referring to anymore
birdbones birdbones, we eat you from the inside out
This is today’s calm headline: when the clout of a hammer
sings a would-be house the same way a dog’s howl fractures
an all-too-sudden image of a stranger. All of this having
to do with your body, that is when trying to insinuate a day

like a beast cautious behind a brushfire. Take your hand
and cross your body – paint a gesture, with your timid signatures

   a showcase of a blind transaction for something and take it
to the nearby cathedral. Fasten you would, a murmur veiled
and hidden in one of the pews and kowtow / this is your

   finest headline today / before them, make do your obeisance
   to / to fall like a downed tree after a surge / drift on a river /
             / repeats as if you do not forget /
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
windows blue, brushfire outside frame
lens snaps unfocussed souvenirs
button stuck & final landscape
reel changed in digital camera.

business armour, new & costly
spare strides, fresh shod feet
new path to wear & flatten trail
movement forward, steps with bells.

behind eyes dam pressure, fears of
others, games with blades, paper greed
leather pouch of cards, no perception
rides of ease & empathy bypass.

laundry dangles worn & fresh
warm breeze & sweat beads, pegs support
changing days, transforming month
summer growth for a turn of season
Daniel Apr 2022
Flames of deceit engulfed the vast fields of my heart.
Composed of slender dry blades of trust and love; that danced to that old song together like watching sea of hopeless romance.

The blazing fire grew hastily; greedily feeding.
Leaving no survivors.

All of my fields reduced to wisps of ash in a mere instant. The grains are no more and the harvest shall yield no food this season.

Fearing the worst, I prepare for the work ahead to replenish my crop. In good time, the new growth will sprout. If I am patient, if I tend with care, I will confidently provide an abundance of new produce.

Insurmountable quantity and resilient to the elements.

I say, sometimes the brushfire must be burned in order for new growth to take its place.
Remaining ever vigilant and keeping the inferno from ruining my fields again.
Throwback writings in the heart-wrenching months of early 2020...
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2023
This place we now find ourselves in, in history, where Human aggression is recognized as being a universal paramount in the fight for global survival..

Where in the face of Russian warmongering and charging Chinese military expansionism?
Where in the uncertainty of the volatility and utterly predictable intentions of second string nuclear nations, such as North Korea, Israel, India , Pakistan, South Africa and, soon, Iran, there can be no promise of security from the possibility of spontaneous outbreak of nuclear hostilities.?
Where the USA, because of the trajectories of its diabolical, episodic electoral swings, In that every four years the political spectrum and its spinning wheel of alliances and militaristic articulations change to render the nation as predictably unreliable militarily and, essentially, heading towards being a potential fortress unto itself?
Where nuclear NATO and Europe wallow in a quagmire of indecision and bickering between themselves rendering them, collectively, insignificant?
Where emergent South Korea, Taiwan, Japan and several South American nations are currently being backed into a position where they are being forced to militarize, to join the nuclear club for their own survival?
Where the Jihadists will ultimately procure and utilize a nuclear device in the most spectacular manner possible….to further their own ends?

There have been 106 major wars fought since 1945. Many of them brushfire wars between populations within a single or neighboring nation, the like of which are still being fought in countries such as Nigeria, the Congo, Sudan, Syria, Palestine, Afghanistan and Yemen. Wars where people are being brutalized, dispossessed, killed and *****, daily. Where thousands are made refugees having to abandon their homes, their lives and their families in the face of brute force and extreme violence. Wars which are completely ignored by much of the rest of the world. Ignored because they don’t touch the comfortable normality of everyday life, the harmony of an existence without the threat of violent death by marauding gunmen or suicide vest explosives.

We in peaceful corners of the world live in a fool’s paradise because the threat of sudden widespread thermonuclear war has never been so immanent, so poised to erupt, since that of the Cuban Missile crisis of 1962 where Kennedy and Khrushchev were within a hairs breadth of unleashing nuclear armageddon on the world. Sanity prevailed then, a compromise was reached where nuclear armaments were mutually removed from Poland and Cuba and the world entered the phase of MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction). An insanity which berthed the age of Détente.

And so it has been till now. A balancing act where nuclear nations tip toed around each other stretching the limits of confrontation without actually trespassing to the threshold.

Putin has passed the threshold with his extended invasion of Ukraine, He had the opportunity of freezing hostilities and retaining Donbas and the Crimean peninsula for Russia. He twice declined this opportunity and reinforced his attack on the Ukrainian people. Biden’s USA dug in as did the nations of NATO declaring their intention to militarily support the  forces of Ukraine for as long as it took to force Russia’s hand.
An impasse which hovers both sides on the very brink of nuclear confrontation.

China skips back and forth playing peacemaker to the UN and brother in arms to its Communistic ally, Russia. Yet all the while China trumpets its ultimate destiny of world ******* by force. Flexing her muscle in the Spratley and Paracell islands of the South China sea where she has expanded coral atolls into fortified military airfields threatening the free trade sealanes between Asia and the world. China now claims the South china sea as her own sovereign territory and patrols this seaway aggressively with armed warplanes and warships.

China confronts the Seventh Fleet of the USA navy over her demand of ownership of Taiwan, the forces are nose to jowel with fingers on the trigger. Taiwan is the world leader in production of microchips, They have the factories and the raw materials, Taiwan own the secrets of the processing. China are desperate to get this technology… and they need it now for further development of their computer and space research development. They have threatened Taiwan with military maneuvers and declarations of intention to invade. The only thing stopping them is the standoff with the USA military. Hair trigger stuff which is so volatile it could erupt at any time.

I gaze out the window here in the beautiful green foothills of Mt. Taranaki in New Zealand. The Tasman sea extends out for miles as a peaceful, shimmering deep blue visage. The air is warm and still in this early Autumn harmony. Birds fly by, farmers till their fields bringing in the season’s crop of maize. Harmony, peace and beauty reign supreme. A masterpiece of order and something of immense value to all who live here and share it……But for how long before it all becomes destruction, despair and subjugation. How long before the aggression and the greed for power reaches out to this far outpost of humanity to crush the life out of it with it’s sudden, vast, violent and toxic nuclear fist?

The way humanity is going right now?…..NOT LONG!

I listened to a podcast recently where this question was put to a number of philosophers, scientists, authors and national leaders…..”When will War End?”
The consensus of opinion was that war has always been a part of mankind’s makeup. Only humans and Chimpanzees wage war and only humans do it with a visceral passion.
When humans wage peace…they get bored! Peace is boring!  …genuinely this was a common theme.
The group saw warfare as an inherent part of man’s competitive nature, they saw it as a compilation of greed, ego, lust for power and assets.

When will war end? Certainly not in my lifetime, probably never!
Live with it, they said!

M@Foxglove,Taranaki NZ
Manish Purohit Jan 2016
Wake up O’ Soul
Arise from the slumber
Liberate that ******
Let loose the encumber

Re-kindle that fire
So eager and curious
Spread those wings & flutter
And experience the brilliance

Unleash those thoughts
Be wild in wanderlust
Make all the crazy moves
Pursue life’s Trivias & Musts

Dive deep within the heart
Explore that which lies asleep
Unravel the thread layer by layer
Demystify the enigma that lay so deep

There’s none but only You
Who can defy the clouds, dark hued
Hanging motionless on the thoughts
Searching feeble excuses to elude

There’s none but only You
Who can really triumph the world
Burgeoning ahead amidst ravages
And bloom like a Bud

The realm of darkness
Glooming within and outside
Will succumb to the Light
Of the flame that will ignite

So come and Wake up O’ Soul
Let the ashes of the past deride
Surrender to the brushfire ablaze
Annihilate thy identity and die

Resurrect again the phoenix within
Stronger & wiser thou arise
Cease being a derelict soul
Proclaim the world “You are Alive!!!”
Published at http://musingsofawanderingheart.blogspot.in/
serpentinium Apr 2019
I. A gene for combustion
passed down through summers
spent fishing mud-slick tributaries,
cultivating a taste for wildness
wiggling on metal hooks,
sun-bleached shells
cracking at the weight of
tar-speckled teeth;
an animal made supine,
made to mold like clay,
a carcass of love

II. thrown into a kiln,
now discarded, abandoned
hungry maggots taken to flesh,
burrowing in the soft, hidden places
where viscera meets homesickness
where memory becomes gun smoke
and home—the place where
I sweep up the broken pieces
of pottery—becomes a grave.


III. Here lies a familiar body:
bleached bone as kindling,
a house pregnant with smoke,
then fire;
this is where all
witch hunts begin—
woman made child
made martyr
made monster
made firewood,
a temporary shelter,
not a fire to be prayed to.

IV. Burning.
Morning star plummeting,
oxygen-rich, dying poor
on a back porch, basket of
vipers spilling out like kerosene
and into the woods—
a brushfire
voice of God burning
through the screen door saying
“He wept.”

V. I named the fallen star
Lazarus;
dead but not dead,
reborn in the face of my
father  
who stares
into the 500-mile long
reflection in the rearview mirror
of his ash-colored Chevy
to a place God-touched
and wild.

VII. He tucks the lion parts
of himself in the furnace,
shedding glory for loss:
to lose the rattle of the caged
animal in his chest,
the fires that hunger for more
than the pines,
to sleep without dreams of
funeral pyres covered in
snakes.

VIII. Today,
I am a ghost caught in daylight
here and not here
mind on fire
facing Lazarus in the hallway
hospital gown as yellow as
sulfur,
charcoal staining his lips
while I burst into flame,
burning screams,
a mirror’s reflection
of the worst
parts of himself.
Burlone Jan 2019
There it was..
Sun soaked smiles
I held your hand
Laughter for miles
As we wiped off all this itchy sand.

There it was...
Moving clouds and you splashing puddles under your feet
I smile, ask you to listen to the rain drops
You smile and tell me I'm sweet.

Rain begins to splinter
With every snow flake
The idea of loving you begins to awake
We drop in to the drift
Waiting to make snow angels in the winter

Head so high, drunk on your clouds
Leaving your warmth for the moment  
For the cover of lascivious linen shrouds

My eye was caught in the beauty of another brand
I am no cheat
Grandstanding on clay feet.
I feel so small as I crash land

So Here it comes...
The loneliness.  
Footprints of accountability
Brings a brushfire of guilt
Standing, spitting into the wind

Here it comes...
Discontented swan dive
As I drown every single emotion
Stuff it in an empty bottle
Cap it all off and let nothing escape
Before I drink it all and the bitterness eats me alive

Here it comes...
This sense of reality leaves me dimwitted  
My sense of humor was all for naught
I realized I'm not as funny as I thought.  
Poking holes in my glass ceiling
You throw one last stone, to begin the healing.

Here it is...
Mistaken moments
Like floaters in my eyes
It all catches on fire, this paper virtue crafted with lies
Cardboard cutouts warping from the scorching heat

Here I am...
Transparent aggression, Flimsy and amusing
Plastic right down to the core
A crocodile getting his head bitten off at his own watering hole
Now laughing at me through the glass door.
Guilt and shame become mounting debts
So now it's that time to run and hide
Borrow from tomorrow
To forget the end of day regrets

I will no longer complain
I will ignore the pain mounting
I will turn and burry my face in my hands
Go ahead and run and hide
I'll never stop counting
I will no longer try to find a way out of this hole
I promise I will never be so bold
Quite and dumb
I'll just lay under the fold.
Where the rain no longer makes a sound
And the snow melts before it hits the ground

You left before I ruined you
You dodged a bullet from this emotional killing spree
You can watch as the shell of me cracks
I rather you pity me than despise me.        

So stay and watch me fall from the tree
no longer this clinging fruit
exist under the field of wilted weeds
Silent and Unseen I lay waiting in this dying root.
I just wish someone could of seen
The beauty that once laid within me...
Daniel May 2020
Flame of deceit engulfed and destroyed the vast fields of my heart.

Composed of slender dry blades of trust and love; that danced to that old song together like watching a sea of hopeless romance.

The blazing fire grew hastily.
Greedily feeding for its own agenda,
it leaves no trace of remorse.

All of my fields reduced to wisps of ash in a mere instant. The grains are no more and the harvest shall yield no food this season.

Fearing the worst, I prepare for the work ahead to replenish my crop. In good time, the new growth will sprout.

If I am patient, if I tend with care, I will confidently provide an abundance of new produce.
Insurmountable quantity and resilient to the enviable elements.

I say, sometimes the brushfire must be burned in order for new growth to take its place.

Remaining ever vigilant, I fend off the selfish inferno from ruining my fields again.
For Shay.
Walter Alter Sep 2023
she had a mind like a brushfire
ate the testicles of men at a glance
and knew how to foreplay
my weaknesses like loaded dice
Gingiva Racklehaus AKA The Tarantula
had me in a state of moral exhaustion
in an emaciated Assyrian odyssey
laced into the spokes of her chariot
I know she won't always have
the sickle moon *** she has now
and made that scientific analysis known
people who are honest are always in trouble
but I needed her help to get out on parole
having been caught collaborating
with the lead in my pencil
handwriting analysis gave me up
darkness blends with truth
confessing under a barber's hot comb
to nothing but having looked at the stars
you can't put a fence around that
being the only ethical conclusion
I tried a last ditch gambit
but she liked living with a gun to my head
demonstrably much more than I did
because it amuses me is no answer
gimme your brains cowboy
or I'll blow them across the room
she had already cut out my heart
blew it up like a rubber balloon
my prayers did absolutely nothing
and I go shopping for an online exorcist
as it whooshes about the room
upsetting the cat shocking the monkey
and giving the turtle spasms of mania
which for him and his hard umbrella
was a slowly unfolding historic epoch
but I knew who my hard umbrella was
and sent a signal out on Ginger's web
the response was back lickety split
answering the age old question
where do we hide the body
but in plain sight so here I am
I amused her and we married
even a sociopath will enlist
after an *** kicking by the Gods
we're all hungry for a new day after all
so by all means don't **** your TV
leave in on full volume until
the snow makes you smart
failing that give it to someone
who knows how to make it work
to read a civilization's spoor sign

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon

— The End —