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Riin Lai Apr 2021
You are pathology incarnate
The sweat on your brow trick of the light
You were the first female
But you are no woman

Just a beast in the shape of a girl
Plucked one year before ripeness
A major at everything
A minor one way

Your eyes betray your true nature
Sharp, louche and depravity reined
Soot-yellow and one dollar green
Some might call it hazel

I call it dirt against your aryan gold hair
If you offered me fruit
I’d force myself to take a bite
So my soul won’t witness my guts feasted in the gutter

Carnivorously carnival-carved cadaver
Stamped under your cigarette-stained heels
Cherry cola chipped out of chapped lips
Cos I didn’t dare take a chockfull

You’re the first girl who has ever touched me
But I’m just the fly on your fruit
Lilith Haefelin
The girl before Eve.
Butch Decatoria Sep 2018
The impetus
                     Of being
Always on the run
               Through pinwheel eyes
                              Those standing by
                                          The mystic roadway :    River
Blues yet to be brushed
                      or in blush
                           Of evening chill's breathing
a canvas like windows dreaming felt
All mindful
And chockfull O'
                              Wonder
Then ponder
                Yonder "window breaks"
                         Past the wilderness' sleep
Bone heavy wood
                             Umber earth

                             Past whoosh and rush of liquid
Folding on itself / a soundtrack

      Listen now
      Pedestrian be

Mindful of the cautionary whales
                                               Old Ahab’s yell
                                  Obsessions
                           Fears
                                   Or loathing.

If one is drowning in one's sleep
Look wildly
                  widely
                              Blithely
                                    Down river  
Or up there beyond finger's point
                      Sidewinder snake journeys
Until sky and below it
All meet

The distance
        Now only a line
                 Coalescing what is beyond
                      Our ability to see
Far and away
    Evanescent
         Effervescent
                     Ever after      
                             River.     Life.
Here we are
And proud
     The free spirit is fluent
           With the rapid rivers loud
                            Always on the run
Currents like a child's curiosity ...
How then,
When or why
                        does it end ?
Where do we go?
                    
Like most things existing,
           Will lead to the high art /
love's deep oceans...
          
We often forget to seek
                              And mind
                                     the sublimations/
                                                            d¬¬r­ift wood.
So then,
Begin with a dot .
A speck of dusk
                     A burst of light
                                        A starry sky,
pieces to mastering
                   Raging fragility of water

Liquid undulations  
                    Folding itself in / volumes

Or falling from on high
       A droplet cry

Then the lightning
                   (crash or bloom)
From the heavens
                                 like electric rivers
So brilliantly
                   Festoons

Where do we go (so low)
       There and here / underfoot /
                   Over north / southern sleep
                                   To oceans twilight deep?

Go wrapped or map-less
Or no.
            Up
                Way
       Up yonder
There up there
                    Everywhere
                    All without fear...
My heart like the river yearns
                 To go toward the sun
                       A flow /
                                     the beating drum
Always on the run
And
     Yet
            Still
                    Here.
Repost
Erica A Arnold Dec 2013
Fill up these hollow eyes...
These two dry sockets, sitting cold like marbles in a divot.
Pour into them.
Look past the shallow pool,
and dive deep into the blackness.
See what I see...
Sink into my vision...
Floating, if just for a moment.
Dead weight,
with arms wide open.

Fill up these hollow eyes,
with penny thoughts and nickel dimed emotions.
Weave the string, and pull me closer.
Entice me.
Tease me.
Tickle my fancy.
Make me chockfull, to the brim.
Then spill me over.

Fill up these hollow eyes,
they **** you in like bathroom drain pipes.
Keeping up the appearances...
watch how they move.
Like the lolling head of a sleeping toddler,
no focus.
Their out of focus.
michelle reicks Oct 2011
So what am I
             expected to do
I guess for now I'll
pumpout poems
          chockfull of cliches

and other ****

      Because honestly,

                It doesn't feel
           right to do anything

                           else.


          So call me cliche

          But know that I'm-

          feeling more
                   than you

                             have ever felt.
Butch Decatoria Jul 2019
The impetus
                     Of being
Always on the run
               Through pinwheel eyes
                              Those standing by
                                          The mystic roadway :    River
Blue yet to be brushed
                      or in blush
                           Of evening chill's breathing
canvas-like windows dreaming felt
All mindful
And chockfull O'
                              Wonder
Then ponder
                Yonder "window breaks"
                         Past the wilderness' sleep
Bone heavy wood
                             Umber earth

                             Past whoosh and rush of liquid
Folding on itself / a soundtrack

      Listen now
      Pedestrian be

Mindful of the cautionary whales
                                               Old Ahab’s yell
                                  Obsessions
                           Fears
                                   Or loathing.

If one is drowning in one's sleep
Look wildly
                  widely
                              Blithely
                                    Down river  
Or up there beyond finger's point
                      Sidewinder snake journeys
Until sky and below it
All meet

The distance
        Now only a line
                 Coalescing what is beyond
                      Our ability to see
Far and away
    Evanescent
         Effervescent
                     Ever after      
                             River.     Life.
Here
We are proud and
     The free spirit is fluent
           With the rapid rivers loud
                            Always on the run
Currents like a child's curiosity ...
How then,
When or why
                        does it end ?
Where do we go?
                    
Like most things existing,
           Will lead to the high art /
love's deep oceans...
          
We often forget to seek
                              And mind
                                     the sublimations/
                                                            d¬¬rift wood.
Let’s then
Begin with a dot .
A speck of dusk
                     bursts of light
                                        A starry sky,
pieces to mastery

                   Raging fragility of waters’
Unctuous undulations
                    Folding itself in volumes
Or falling from on high
       A droplet cry !

Then flash of lightning
                   (crash or bloom)
From the heavens
                                 like electric rivers
So brilliantly
                   Festoons

Where do we go
With those under toes
       There and here / underfoot /
                   Over north / southern sleep
                                   To oceans twilight deep?
Go wrapped or map-less
Or no.
            Up
                Way
       Up yonder
There up there
                    Everywhere
                    All without fear...

My heart like the river yearns
                 To go toward the sun
                       A flow /
                                     the beating drum
Always on the run
And
     Yet
            Still
                    Here.
(Repost)
Dan Hess Aug 2022
The present moment is my happy place

and, when I step back and appreciate

all my woes and worries are erased



I’ll simulate the energy of peace

when anger and impatience ravage me

and the world seems chockfull of instability;

because, when I remember to breathe,

I don’t surrender my power to a feeling



Sometimes I find I’m faced with a choice

Life can leave me feeling as if I’m without a voice

All things appear so dull and strange

My heart, aching for a change



And I can choose to lose it;

let my rage consume and guide me

My power, when I abuse it,

unleashes pain I hide inside me



Seeking to subdue, control, or placate

is a futile effort

We must waste our energy 

to weaken what we wish to subordinate

Strength only doubles when we work together



Such is the same with one’s self

Fighting inner pain just drains 

and serves to lessen health

Nothing else remains

and one retires again to rest



I’ll step back, and take a breath,

and remember what it’s like to be at peace;

let my soft awareness spread

from in the deep of me,


and assess

with love, encouragement and patience

any problem that keeps me

from seeing beauty



Because love lives in the aching heart

-in the wandering mind

Love, is what we know, what we might find

It is why we yearn and ache

It is why we persist, in spite,

or for the sake of it



So, 
when I find that irate individual;

my mind and the world in turmoil;

when I can’t catch a break,

I can’t focus, can’t think,

I will remember love

is the nourishing thing

at the crux of being



It is the keystone 

to the doorway to new paths

of consciousness and coalescence

of presence and connection

of Love itself

— The End —