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Daniel James Feb 2011
My father gathered tinder from outside
and left the fire burning
as he disappeared upstairs.
My mother said goodnight.

Her fleece followed her
like Charlie Brown
away and up to bed.

The  cheap green leather
where I sat
felt shiny and thin
and big enough for two.

My other half I imagined
tucked up and dreaming of me
wrapped as one
and breathing in her breath.

There’s something in the fire wood
side by side
two twigs have met
in flaming consumation.
All that remains is death.
Elioinai Sep 2015
So
I'm not
That independent woman
who doesn't need no man
In fact I'm feeling lost
though you my friend most boldly state
the truth that God completes
Something competes
it reaches first
and informs my heart of missing parts
Despite my fear in this debate,
it may soon be too late
as all contracts heap amidst the pyre
where Time burns
upon the Earth's last fire
mock marriage ends in conflagration
to be replaced by Consumation
I'm never going to be satisfied until the last Marriage supper, but I do want to be married on earth
Cate Dec 2014
If I listed out all of the things that have
Tripped me up
And troubled me
Truly my dear
You would never stop pitying me.

Take me backwards around that stop sign I split

My legs churn counter clockwise
To the backyard as kids

But I can't find a moment that will fit
The description
Of the happiness I sought as a prescription
And over took my kind
As an addiction.

I have to find the exact formula
To improvement
Because I can't keep living
In this whirlwind disaster
That has only begun to spin faster.

I have fallen into a
Petrifying and paralyzingly vortex;
The consumation of my years spindling around me.

I am wound in
Sloppy rings,
Sticky with sap and
Last nights spilt wine.

I've grown into where I  will remain now,
Regardless of personal preference.
Mostly I can settle for my comfortable domain
Of limited know-how;
But when my tongue trips
And my knees scrape on
Every protruding corner

I will remember
I am only living,

Hidden behind callouses
Of all those spitfire falacies
I was gullible enough to perceive.  

my bark has turned more
Into a disapproving grumble
When another inevitable wave
Comes to throw me under
In the tides of my troubles.

Perhaps I've grown accustomed
To the briney water rushing towards my ankles
And the gust that carries cold droplets
Across my hot, red face.

Let us jealously applaud
For those who trod on
Our aspirations,
And smile coyly knowing
We didn't let their
Questioning faces
Phase us.  

"****.
I grew up."
I wish I didn't say that so much.

At twelve I was twenty-five and
At twenty-five?
Well,
We'll get to that
if we can.

Regardless
I know that nothing's going to give me back  

Here,

now,  

              My short time.       with
you.

Deep breaths only multiply the weight
Of the question that's lingering in my chest.
I rise,
Against the counteractive distraction
Of avoidance.

I hear the words come out in short blurbs like a stop motion cartoon,

"So...excuse me mister,
there's uh,
something I've got to do."

I'm stumbling up to your room
And betting
On the mood
And the moon.

C.e.M.
I have a lotttt of super lowkey double entendres, symbolism and insinuation in this and I'm curious if anyone can pick if apart. Regardless, I'm always interested in feed back!

Written in soc, as per the usual
Hana Gabrielle Jul 2012
Bruised hips and lips
dragging themselves desperately
endless sensual friction
*******
smacking
crude, raw

stay true
to the muse of our generation
we were never taught
to share what we're given
precious garbage
spewed out of consumation
a spiral of artistic fury
the scratch of losing your voice
the voice that once
harmonized with lies

washed out external flame
burn bridges you've never crossed
for fear of humiliation
embers branding sin
into skin

slick like sticky fingers
groping bodies for a grip
to pull yourselves out
of the hell
called introspection

you are a moonlit chaotic mind
on the roots
forming roads to that which we lost

I've held my muse
kissed the lips that mumble
my melodic lullaby
the first of a very long series. sort of an abstract portrait of my recovery.
George Krokos Nov 2010
It's now time to say goodbye and bid each other farewell
we may yet see one another again perhaps, who can tell?
The paths of our life often cross over familiar ground
and so in the days of our lives those memories hound.

How sweet life seems when everything goes well
but when misfortune strikes it becomes like hell.
The experience of life always has an opposite side
and things we once valued most no longer provide.

When we turn our back to love the heart inside us does shrink
and the vacuum created there will cause many to reach a brink.
In certain matters of love we're all found to be a little wanting
but then the true object of all our love is the most demanding.

If love comes our way the world seems full of joy
and each moment feels as if it's a wonderful ploy.
The grace of love is quite blissful while it does last
and the pleasure of the beloved is the main repast.

Everyone in the world has at least one tale of love to recite
regardless even of their situation and any condition despite.
Whether it be one of woe that only brings sadness to the heart
or one that's joyful relating of lovers who are no longer apart.

The phenomenon of love is the story of an ever ongoing human saga
with a broken or joyous heart many people sing about as their raga.
Its consumation lies in the fulfilment of love with lover and beloved
and the glory of this end only those brave enough have discovered.
From unpublished book "The Seeds Of Life" - compiled in 1996
Hala K Jul 2015
Have you ever felt that heart wrenching pain
throbbing inside you as the one thing it lives for saunters away?

Have you ever suffered the consumation of dread
dawdling into the fragments of your shattered heart?

Have you ever felt the darkness and despair creep over you
Devouring your every thought, desperately trying to feast upon your whole being?

Have you ever felt the desire for the agony to overwrite your worthless existence
begging for it to demolish every bit of you?

Like if it were to happen
you would sigh a great breath of relief, hopelessly embracing the sensation?

That's how I felt about you
the moment you growled those insensitive words at me
leaving me to crawl into my own defenition of disquest.  

That is how you selfishly left me behind
not caring how that would affect me,
how that abandonment would break me.
RMatheson Sep 2020
There's a Greyhound destination
stolen from the eerie
little pieces of falsetto voice carrying me
through the end of times like
Revelation could make you wet,
I'll make you ***,
split between what should be
and
what was done.
Nolan Davis Aug 2015
What are your demons that keep you awake?
The smile on your face that you grimly fake.
The howling call of 3 AM will beckon.
Claiming your sanity, despite what you reckon.

Do your demons lie in the reflection of the mirror?
The consumation of your trials and fear.
That no matter the reason, it's clear in your eyes.
That the mirror will only conjure your lies.

Perhaps your demons dwell inside of your head.
Emerging as thoughts as you lie in bed.
Despite your reassurance, it's easy to see.
Your ego can't accept what you turned out to be.

So lie to yourself, keep saying you're fine.
And keep walking your carefully scripted line.
But the demons know all, and will tear you apart.
Because yours reside in the center of your heart.
Ayeshah Nov 2015
I craved this monent,

longed for it,

dreamed a dream made reality. ...

Hold me again & let us retrace our sensational embrace.

You're intoxicating scent lingers on the sheets.

Your weight shadows where you've lain atop of me.

Impressions of your hand print echo in my mind,

I remember you...

 I can still feel you....

I'm still breathing heavy,  

trembling  too from our consumation...

I'm drifting off

but I can't help smiling  as you wrap your strong protective arms around me.

So this is what peace & safety feels like

wrapped up in our

Lustful love!

Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
         K.A.C.L.N ©
     All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present
I'm enjoying the small stuff!
4/15/2013

It's been such a long time,
Since I held your hand in mine.
So many years have passed,
Since that night in the grass.

I remember it so clearly,
And I hold on to it dearly.
The beginning of the end,
The source of my heart to rend.

The silence of night remained unbroken,
As you handed me a token,
Something to remember you by,
As though you knew we had to fly.

The moon shone but just a sliver,
And though warm, I felt a shiver.
As our bare feet crossed the dirt,
To the beat of mother earth.

Beneath the stars our resting place,
Where we gazed up into space.
Where I whispered it for the first time,
Those few words to make you mine.

And in that instant my world changed,
When you whispered words the same.
My hand found yours and then our lips,
My heart and soul both doing flips.

I couldn't believe this was reality,
It seemed as though some fantasy.
Something like one of those dreams,
Where the details begin to burst through the seams.

But no, this could be no dream,
This was you and this was me.
The consumation of such a love,
The kind that only stories tell of.

For hours there we were happy,
Alone in the field as we could be.
Your head on my heart, the steady drum,
And I listened to yours, the timid one.

The gentle breeze caressed your scent,
As the clear skies denied a tent.
The thick fescue was soft as down,
Your jean shorts made the best night gown.

You fell asleep fingers in mine,
And I lay awake for the longest time.
Peaceful bliss, no doubts did spoil,
As I rested my head upon the soil.

It was the first, but not the last,
By far the best we spent in that grass.
I'll never forget, nor do I want to,
Because that is the night I knew that I loved you.

Now it has been such a long time,
Since I held your hand in mine.
I struggle to recall how your fingers felt,
And to remember how my heart would melt.

But now we smile when we pass by,
I know you remember it, under the sky.
Your friend told me you talk in your sleep,
Sometimes revealing a subconscious so deep.

She said your eyes, they filled with tears,
As you were attacked by regrets and fears.
Your whispered callings, revealing my name,
The sad teary silence, when I never came.

She said my picture is under your pillow,
It's the one of us both, under the willows.
What I couldn't say, I have it too,
Beside my bed, reminding of you.

I couldn't tell her, I wake up in a sweat,
Heaving and cold, with dreams of regret.
Couldn't say how my thoughts are ridden,
And my lonesomeness is all but hidden.

I know it was hard, believe me, I do.
For years now I've thought this through.
The plan we made, it was all I had,
Sometimes it kept me from going mad.

Four years seemed as though forever,
But not so long if it would bring us together.
I worked so hard, so many sacrifices,
Did everything possible with human devices.

Now the years have finally passed,
And so it seems, has the contrast.
Murphy's law has kept as apart,
Distance forever the bane of our hearts.

I just want you to know, I'll be where I promised.
I made the grades, I made the "A" list.
You did too, but circumstance kills,
You'll be in the flats while I'm in the hills.

You were right to hand me that token,
It hangs on my neck, still unbroken.
I have no plans to remove it soon,
I'll be wearing it when I fly to the moon.

I'll never forget you, and I hope you not I,
But I wish your dreams wouldn't make you cry.
So smile for me, though years have passed,
Tell me you remember that night in the grass.

Have no regrets, don't wish it away,
That it never happened, I'll never say.
I won't forget it, nor do I want to,
That is the night I knew that I loved you.
I sometimes feel like a leech
On the groin of a god
Forgetting what I'm here for
For something else.
Finding sustenance
In consumation
Losing track of giving
Falling into taking
Like some pleasure driven beast
I try to hold my apples
Within my chalice
I try to open my highways
Of transcendence
And ride the mental bliss toward wholeness of two
But this body cries
For seizure rapidity
And composer to fall down the drain.
And I struggle to be more than a worm.
Paul Glottaman Nov 2019
Remember turning and churning and roiling like water the night before.
Recall the moist palmed, thick tongued, planned conversations in mirrors.
My god, the hair cuts, the clothes, the damnably dramatic second guessing.
"Just the right moment." As if such a thing existed.

I remember sitting on the table in your work area, because I wanted you to see me breaking school rules and thinking I was so ******* cool.
I would tell you jokes until the wrinkles on your nose scrunched up and your eyes glimmered.
Jokes, but not ***** jokes. I wanted you to think I was pure.
So ******* pure.
Truth is I was just ready for you. Thought I was.
Did you know I waited by the baseball diamond for you to run by? I did. Did I ever.
I didn't have club but I was always at school late, hoping you'd talk to me. Knowing if I could make you laugh the right amount of times in the right kind of way...maybe, just maybe, then you would love me.

I could see it. Crowded school hallways would part like seas before us and we would move to one another as magnets do. Drawn. And finally in the middle, met and smiling, we would kiss like consumation. The applause would fall and the strings would swell and the percussion would announce the emotive lyrics sung by the pop musician with the widest range available for the budget we have.
Silly boy.
Silly.
I loved you like reckless, feckless children do. With all the passion and none of the wit.
But wait! There's just this last bit:
I love you now. With ALL the passion and what wits I can muster.
Decades later and the smell of you on the pillow or the smile your genes have given our son and I'm that silly young man again. Weak in the knees and hoping...maybe, just maybe, then you would love me.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2020
that i hold sway over no ring...
that i hold no sway over a crown....
that... i somehow...
hold sway... over...
a wavering... furrow... brushing...
of the brow...
i hold not sway...
over ring... crown... or narrative...
but i am somehow...
told... to make:
exacting... consumation...
relieves...
             i too would want...
the heart... that owns the... moonlight...
as i would also want:
to discard the deluded mind...
which once... adored...
itself in hope to have feigned...
owning...
            my morbid orb...
       my st. stephen...
                  my most: dearest... a lost...
moth flutter begotten impregnated...
loiter... and scalp!
         to acknowledge the existence
of skin: upon the bending
of the knee...
               iron riddle...
     your... mother hush...
       curator...
                 somewhat...
       drag-queen... spectacular?!

— The End —