Lora Lee Feb 2016

I want to be loved
right through to my
      dark edges
where indigo smoke,
as mystical as night,
curls up to envelope you
I want that haziness    
     to penetrate
the fire in your eyes
as they mist over
two deep pools of wild
liquid-colored lava
I want to kiss you deep
right down to the embers
take them upon my tongue
      even if they burn
Let them smolder
Let the frayed vibrations
of our union
drip into magic
Let a new consciousness melt
into the realms of our minds
in an electric-toned hue of spirals
Let the love that has been
sealed inside
           go ultraviolet
          with every single breath
and all the poison of past battles
burn away
to reveal the buds of spring
as they burst through
layers of ice,
of ash
of obsidian
for even the most tender
of shoots can unfurl
in a magic that
defies the logic of suffering
and conjures
the language of miracles

Traveler Jun 2014

Velvety roses so pleasing to the senses
Convey such messages as apologies and love
The aroma of angels in blue blurry skies
When the spirit of giving comes from above

To brighten your new day
With magic and laughter
A spectrum of colors
So brilliantly captured

A life refreshed
Each moment begins
The happiness of new days
Is the energy we send...

Eyes wide open, glancing around
left-right-left-right.
Deserted, dark, pitch-black hallway.

Scar on her left eye
asymmetrical bangs, reminder of the past.
Petite hands reaching the glass knob.
Mahogany cracking,
pale white paint peeling off...












SHE. HAS. RETURN

a collaboration poem with my friend, inspired by 'Conjuring' movie :))
We tried our best to make this horror inspired poem...
Nick M Nov 2014

my anxiety roots inside my lungs, it makes me short of breath
trying to build a tree inside me with leaves of panic and death
and my chest pumps hard with my drum of an organ
I just want to be happy, I just want to do it for them
because these people are intimidated when they see me in person
because I always look sad and down, like a drama film I'm rehearsing
so I'm on a life long scavenger hunt, and it's happiness I'm searching
and I just want to stand up, but this places just makes me slip
until I hurt all over, floor against my hip and I' just want to sink under
since they just run and leave, hearing the words my lips utter
my thoughts are never white, only black so I guess I'm out of color

I lay in bed, music blasting, staring at the ceiling
temper hot as a fresh cup of darjeeling
darling, please leave me be
because my mind is a cage
I just wish it'd be set free

Bianca Reyes Mar 10

If my thoughts and dreams can come to life
They'd be brought back in the shape of you
If my love can be a force of nature
It'd be the oxygen pumping through your lungs
It'd be the light in your eyes that once was
If I could have one wish granted
It'd be to have you back
Fearless and breathing

Copyright under Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
2017
Blah blah blah
Enjoy
lloyd britton Feb 2015

What words to choose for a sudden inebriation?
A cacophony of lyrical opiates,
Amorous with the linguistic calculation,
Submerged in the mind, uttered copious.
Drunk on an emotion in the twilight,
Singing to all the crepuscular creatures,
Language lulling yet never refrains its delight,
Understood like words of the preachers.
That’s how but why?
Because beauty builds on aesthetics,
Through sounds spoken on high,
And rhyming reveal those familiar tricks.
By virtue of allurement construction,
At the hand of resonance raised,
And verse venture until destruction,
Into the silence which shall be praised.
If it is to be said then should it be plainly?
Then what of poets creatively conjuring?
I know why we offer words humanely,
Too create images that are conquering.

Lala Nov 2014

Drowning my heart with his eyes, conjuring passion that never dies, so irresistible the pair of green, engraved on my mind a beautiful scene, bright, serene and filled with mystery, amazing how it sparks the chemistry, merely gazing at them makes me cheer, gives me hope and sets my mind clear, brilliance glaring from the mellow iris, looking through them is truly a bliss.

This goes out to you. You know who you are.

i've been feeding pork and beef to my cats
for months,
   and they love it (i'm wondering why
they don't drink the streotype disney fantasy
of also drinking milk - but apparently
cats are lactose intolerant, and it
gives them the shits)...
          but what i am worried about is this:
there's this uncooked chunk of beef lying in
the kitchen for me to eat...
                                                  it's there, teasing me,
and i'm actually contemplating about going all out
tartar on the thing...
                                        which comes from
what is equivalent to the mainstream forum base
of "virtue" signalling...
                      are there parasite embryos in this
piece of meat? probably? mad cow disease?
probably... i didn't get to go to the glasbury retreat
for almost two years because of the outbreak...
some people don't get to go to the glastonbury festival:
i'm actually considering lucky to have never been...
went?
             yadda yadda: equivalent to be there...
and then heidegger's ontological fetish for being...
whatever...
     it's a raw piece of beef...
                           and it's lying in the kitchen and
i'm supposed to eat it... but go completely tartar?
    it's not mince beef... it's lying here whole...
          it's not going to be a rare steak experience if
i actually do decide to eat it tartar style...
     cultural inheritence? ever experience a mongolian
horde? they did what i'm about to accomplish
with beef, not horse-meat...
                                                 blood-flesh...
sheer... i'm almost turning my teeth into culinary
items of a knife and fork...
   i know i will eat this piece of raw beef meat,
i know i will... because i know that raw aquatic meat
has more chances of containing parasite embryos
than mammalian flesh...
   well... there will be potatoes and broadbean
stalks on the side to add to the flavour... or as some say:
roughage (or fibre).
        but it's the erotica of eating raw beef
that reminds me of the time i "ate" a cunt...
                          hmmpf... the perfumes and juices
and aura...
                  the way it overcomes the fetish of suckling
at a sweating armpit...
                             there are gradations in lymph
juices... a person who had a skin (ahem) "disease"
known as acne, and that person being a male,
is twice as like (of the totality of being a person) to enjoy
phem-la... i don't have a proper noun for it,
i hope someone coins the phrase... phemlolo?
               i never knew that fellatio only applied to
woman on man... i thought there was a libra in that
definition in reverse... reverse of masturbation
while fucking a woman? stick your face in the part
your're about to fuck with your genitals...
        i slobbered into that part of a woman, teased it with
my nose and spoke so many silent vowels with
the waggling tongue... that i evidently had to become
a part-time eroticist: and that's apparently the shameful
area of the art of writing;
               but you know: as you do in rome...
             now comes the biblical climax...
"forbidden" fruit? that's obvious... it's staring you
in the face!
                          variations of revisionists that cut off
foreskins (excesses of genital parts)...
         it's oral sex... that later translates into
                                          voiced anger, dialectics...
and to think: to state great principles with that part
of the body, and then reduce it to oil up female
genitals? worth it.
                   i really have to reduce it to that,
the mere thought of eating a raw piece of meat that's
in the necro spectrum and will not ooze out
anything equivalent to an aphrodite's perfume
    is brooding over me toward the shrine of thanatos...
but then performing oral sex on a woman's
genital parts is twice as revealing, and taking pleasure
from it? homosexuals do the same, or
are equipped with the same materials:
  it really is a house of cards,
                               the king up and the king down...
yet those who perform this "obscene" act mentioned
           in the book of genesis... of that "tree's" fruit you
will not eat: look... moses didn't speak slave tongue of
the hebrews... and of the people that spoke moses'
tongue, you'd need the equivalent of a rosetta stone...
but now you need three more language variations
to "understand" that's happening...
    probably english... i guess russian... and i'm trying
to think of a third... german?
      but it fallatio... what of the feminine opposite...
and some might dispute this: but i did eat a camomile
in harlow, pissed out of my head...
                              asking the police to take me home
in one of their vans at the end of the night;
fun times in england, with bulgar prostitutes:
who lie they're romanian and then speak to one another
using the cyrillic term haraшo / dobře / o.k.
             still, the idea of what is to come:
eating a steak of meat that's not minced, tartar-style
transcends a literary fascination with homoerotic
literature (akin to harold norse's biography
bastard angel) - it will simply remind me of
having once "eaten" out a very flavoursome piece of
cunt; and then engaged in butchering its face
to contort into O and Ah.

Len Fridman Sep 2014

Green as a meadow, a warm landscape of gentle caresses.
A flowering garden that blooms each time I gaze,
Growing in intensity with each passing moment.

Green as the colour of the vast ocean that holds eternal treasures so deep.
I swim in its warmth and let it envelope me,
Conjuring up a blissful peace in its magic.

I look into what is green and see our reflection.
I see a future, bright and clear,
Filled with laughter and joy,
Kindness and understanding,
Passion and Love.

I am not afraid to stare.
In green, I see pure beauty and a place where I want to live.

Ormond Apr 2014

Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.

Ormond Oct 2013

Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.

Ormond Jun 2014

Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.

An empty room,
filled with two empty souls.

Two empty souls,
assuring the other with empty words.

Empty words,
giving a feeling of sexual comfort.

Sexual comfort,
conjuring feelings of self disgust.

Self disgust,
speculating their insignificance.

Insignificance,
leading to the abrupt realization.

Abrupt realization,
Suicide.

I feel like, this is how I lived my life in the past. I'm a different person now I have found someone who loves me with a whole heart and I love her just the same. But I feel the need to reach out to you out there, know that I know what you are going through and I have a mind to help you, contact me. I will be your friend I want to help.
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