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Universal Thrum Jan 2014
Unapologetically Human
I am **** on the mezzanine
facing the darkened wet road
illuminated with acrid yellow tube light
better reds and blues surround towering palm trees
wooden fingers of ancient giant hands buried below
growing leafy green nails stretching skyward
little things, orange ribbons, endless cricks and dollops
bobbles and winches

Spirits
Play among the windmills
climb to the top of trees and sing into the warm wind songs of *** and heartache
as the universe ruffles along

Dive head first into the opponents forehead
grind the sand into his flesh with ram like resolve until the skin is red,
determine to die

This life is worth proving,
the stars are worth gazing,
and this body is worth bathing in the Maui air with naked delight

The ocean calls to my heart
water is a true lover whispering, kissing
inescapably feminine
I submerge my soul in joyful waves
always the tides follow the moon
like my silly heart, eclipsing
both light both night both day
simultaneously cycling
fully the light shines and our eyes perceive shadow faces in the dark blanketed clouds
the mountain gargoyles stand as titans, forgotten creatures
shoulders and heads, waiting for the moon ball
the ocean moon, tranquil bays
the air is sweeter with you near, a distant thought
cast about the horizon, the sun melting easy golden into my dreamy eye,
bless my drunken lips
dripping doltish songs into the friendly night

Wrestling with bulls of men
we kept our shirts on this time, yet blood was drawn in the sand
we madly danced in the moonlight to clapping hands,
kicking feet and knees
the ceremonial struggle toasting the stars
bottles were shared, some puffed on cigars

Come surf with me in the morning
or anytime the sun shines
even under moonlight would I meet you and we could paddle
come fill your heart with life and lust and romantic passions idyllic as freshly fallen snow undisturbed by worldly concerns
be not abashed for this embrace is a natural wonder of the soul,
join me,
forget what words of yesterday the prophets of doom chant,
we make our own tomorrow
B Dec 2013
it's not about the color of their eyes
the tone of their skin
it's the glow from within
what they emanate
who they are
what makes them tick
guilty pleasures
nervous ticks
necks and cricks
where their pleasure spot is
what makes them give in
submit to sin
what they stand for
how they carry themselves
if they are put together well
like spices on the shelf
if their smile never fades
and you remember it for days
5/7/5/7/5/7/7

How can I trust you -
Flickering flame in storm-wind
That I don't lose light!
In this dark, cold, barren night
Where crickets crave sleep -
In cricks, in my chest, Thy song
Long forgotten - Now haunts me!
Created by
Impeccable Space
Poetic beauty
~~~~~~~~~~
Naynika Wason Apr 2018
Staring out the window
I think to myself
is this how life looks
from the top shelf?
Never had I thought
I'd be sitting here with him
one hand holding his
and the other wiping our baby's snot.
"I want to be big" I'd said
Life was all rainbows in my head
With rainbows came rain
And with rain, more pain.
But as our fingertips touched,
through the cricks of my brain
the memories gushed
"We'll get through it all" he said
"As long as you never let go"
But let go I did, of all my big dreams
and so life turned out - as perfect as it seems.
Mutt May 2014
Let.... me... sleep...
Please.
PLEASE! let me sleep!

You keep me awake with your toxic kisses
Wrapping yourself around me,
Soothing me in a false comfort,

My eyes are heavy,
My head is weary,
So please, PLEASE!
Let me sleep.

It was fun in the beginning,
You gave me more time in the night,
You keep me up,
So I could study,
You keep me up,
So I could keep in touch with myself,

My mind was free to wonder with this extra time,
Just to have you confirm,
That I'm who I say I am,

The nights were fine,
But my days became ****,
Not having the energy or patience for others,
Greeting my teeth in frustration,
As people wonder where I went,

I am right here!,
But Im really not...,
I'm trapped in my mind,
Which is screaming!,

Screaming at me,
To scrap any couple of minutes of shut eye that I can,
Looking for any break in my day,
To just get away,
Away from the noise...,
The people...,
My friends...,

Any energy I have is used just
To keep moving,
To keep standing,
To keep awake,
Throughout the day,

Any chair becomes a temperpedic mattress,
Finding comfort with ease,
In the most random places,

Which makes sleep easy,
But the cricks I'm my neck are not worth it,

Teachers lectures become slurred mumbles,
Like the adults in charley brown,
But much more melodic,

Just to be shaken out of my daze,
By the sound of back packs zipping,
And Chairs shuffling,
At the end of class,

Socializing is not revitalizing,
Being around my high energy friends,
Just fries my system,
It does not jump start it,

My friends wonder where their energetic friend went,
I just tell them I haven't been sleeping well...,
Excluding you and what you do to me,

**** IT! LET ME SLEEP!,
I no longer want to be a creature of the night!
You topsided my life schedule like a row boat in a tsunami!,
Only to feel your furry in the middle of the day,

Now I am afraid to see you at night,
Knowing you will ruin my life,

As if like clock work,
your there in my bed,
As soon as I'm comfortable and cozy,
Echoing my thoughts...,
Letting my mind travel...,

Traveling to no where!,
You take me on journeys that last a life time!,

Nudging me...,
Egging me on..,
To go on night drives,
My poem book is filled to the brim,
Full of all these ideas you give me,
While my tank is on empty...,

But what is a full mind,
With a weak body?,
What would I be,
Without you?

I'd be free,
I'd be alive,
Free to run!,
Jump!,
Climb!,
Do whatever I wanted!,
Not be held down by your ball and chain...,

Actually hold a conversation with a cute girl,
Without giving up,
Or not even attempting,
Because of you and my lack of energy,

The sun,
Will once again feel,
Like rays of love and warmth,
Rather than a monster constantly,
Trying to sizzle my eyes to a crisp,

Have time and energy to go on a hike with friends,
Instead of fearing I'll pass out,
And fall off the top of mount baldy,

I don't know...,
Maybe view coffee as... just a drink,
Rather than a gift from god,
Sent to help me survive another day In hell!,

I wish these where exaggerations...,
But they are far from it,
Sleep is important to me,

Sigh I just think we should go our separate ways,
We are just no good for each other...,
I got my life to live,
Sleep to catch up on,
So please insomnia.....let me sleep.
sage short Mar 2016
im scared of dying
although everyone has done it
and we all have it in common
one day you and i
will be the dirt
and whats etched onto our stones
wont matter to our cold-to-touch hearts
our lungs wont puff cigarettes or posioned air
in fact we wont breathe at all
just the abyss of our memories swelling nothingness
all of the world left behind
yet you're buried into it
with everyone else that has ever lived
if there is an after life
i hope to see gogh and plath
because i belong with people like them
and my whole life i'll be searching
for souls like mine
i know i am hopeless yet hopeful at the same messy, indecisive time
the fear of death
is not only the fear of pain
and the road less traveled afterwards
it's the fear of dying not knowing myself
and being trapped forever inside
the box i always contained myself in
and still feeling cricks in my neck
from not loving myself enough
when people tell you
that it's inevitable and you should "just get over it"
do they realise how impossible that is
for a broken heart like me?
i am a derailed train and a puzzle piece no one understands
and i am a writer who suffers for art and because i am this....
this mess of a person
not even living
i just walk
and talk
and breathe
sometimes exhaling with a sigh
it pains me to think that by the time
death is knocking on my door
i still will not have lived
give me feedback ! thanks
Liz Dec 2012
My birth was christened with a curse
but every year those parties were flurries
of bon fires and candle sparklers.
My feet didn't touch the dance floor
it seemed, not once, while
the orchestra was playing
a whirling dervish of a waltz
bangs cropped carefree
across the plains of my tanned face,
swishing and twirling the knee length
pink gown,
kicking off pinching white flats to steal
across the June-hot grounds
only to drift back to father’s feet
for another dance.

The orchestra packs up,
the courtly ladies yawn behind trailing sleeves
as I am tucked in
my bed of feathered down, only to wake up  
thirteen years later, with cricks
nestled in the tendons of my neck
and rickety cramps twitching like
the seizure flickering of lightning bugs
through my thighs, as dust billows and rises
with my shifting in the strange light.

Sleeping Beauty wakes up
eighty-seven years ahead of schedule
in the suburbs, the curse a dud
with no prince to sweep her into syrupy swoons
with no words to name this coiling, clammy heat,
this suffocating musk.

I drag my weight
through the two-story house, teaching myself
a new vocabulary
so I can learn to breathe
through the ugly fits of orange tinted panic
at the spider webbed frailty of magic
the kismet pinprick of a spinning wheel
and the helpless sighs of my parents,
a King and Queen dethroned, overthrown
from their untouchable, eternal pedestal.

I couldn't dance
at my next birthday celebration,
when the orchestra was playing
a rollicking rondeau,
mostly because
my hair was too slicked and curled,
framing my fickle new skin,
sitting and twisting a silk napkin in my lap,
ribs locked in the powder blue grip of a whale,
resting poised to turn my toes into graceful
creatures, ten crippled wood nymphs.
To run I would have stumbled,
and it was impossible not to notice that
while we stood, my eyes grazed the top
of father’s thinning, speckled head.
I would break his feet with one more dance.
Katie Mac Nov 2014
did you forget
holding me.
did you forget
the storm inside and the leaking windows;
i wasn't waterproof anymore.

did you forget the burn of fire in our throats
and the smoke we breathed.
did you forget the earthquake sending tremors through me.

did you forget how much it hurts
to have each nerve snipped
so you can hollow out some space for someone else
in your already packed-full chest.

did you forget
the hot summer sun and first love
and *****-stained dresses smeared with dirt.

did you forget the hard floor and the cricks
in our necks.
mine still hurts

it still hurts
S Smoothie Oct 2015
Cool morning blues
break warmer
as the sun floats gently
over the horizon.

Eyes flutter open,
the creases and cricks are
pushed out into a polite yawn...

A new day dawned,
lost hopes replaced with a new desire,
freedom whispers you can do it!

And I for once,
believe I can!
Dawn Bunker Aug 2018
Parallel parking and green from my rings,
these are a few of my least favorite things.
Crumbs in the bed and the toilet seat up,
coffee grounds left at the end of my cup.

Crinks in my socks and cricks in my neck,
not enough funds to cover the check.
Old wilting flowers and ***** brown snow,
roaches and rats and the ugly black crow.

Ranting and raving because I feel ******,
sitting alone at my party of pity.
Wasting good time when there's not much to spare,
kidding myself that I don't really care.

Doing such damage is useless and crude,
and it all boils down to my own attitude.
One things for sure and it's perfectly clear,
if I end the party they all disappear.
alavandala Feb 2016
now i know why
i couldn't understand you
takes more work
to understand what you are
less to understand what isn't
hello again
undeniable failure
we meet again to carry on
fix the cricks and cracks and make something out of it
this is what the helix looks like in motion
personification they call it i call it incarnation
always the same old loop
only up and up into higher dimensions
wheel of samsara
we will ever get out
forever
and we never stay still
something to be said here
i knew it would all come together
it always does
<<<(((>>>))) vector valued functions
and cosine waves and choreography
representation of me in dimension 1
here you go
you get what you came for
you get what you paid for
circular motion
we ride the waves over and over and over again
most everyone i know is stuck in some kind of frozen time clock
~sometimes it's easier to let it all run together~
sometimes you see them and they see you but you can't ever reach across
i want to give you this, give you that but the great divide is too large i've found
you've got to jump on your own
then the moving ones are either moving too fast or too slow and so you ride along alone on your little boat and take it all in
at the finish line none of it matters anyways
but if you insist on being first, be my guest
have all the blue ribbons
i'll take the red
can you ever really stop once the motion starts?
i don't want to anyway
sometimes i feel like i'm never going anywhere then i check
woah - way down stream
an object in motion:
where you're going
every action:
where you end up
i am not combustible
i am combustion
Onoma Apr 2020
the wind wants at its will, as it's

scornfully whorled--undoing the

cricks of facades.

an attentive hearer can be stung by

the lashing beads of rain rounding

still points.

gusty sheets of seventy miles an hour--

timed out, wrung out with a twist.

astonishing confessions that hold back

at the precise moment of truth--as if to

say: bear with me, as i bear with you.
Shannon Jeffery May 2014
Forever young
Never grow old
A muse forever sung
Only a few skin folds

Having heart and soul
To play all day
Staying forever young is my goal
Enjoying life I shall stay

With a few cricks and cracks
I'll still tango all night
All the Knicks and knacks
Inside my head, a little out of sight

Forever young
Never grow old
My life I've won
My passion never sold
Nathaniel Jun 2015
the body is flawed, 
it breaks, it cricks, 
and sometimes it even fizzles, 
sometimes it ******,
 the arms grow tired, 
the organs are not strong, 
a small cut makes leaks all darkened and raw, 
the tounge speaks lies, 
commanded by the brain, 
which is supposed to prevent them and make you feel sane, 
the eyes follow suit under the brains iron will,
and within this will emotions rain strong, 
they can make you feel weak,
or make you feel wrong, 
but of these emotions one stands firm, 
past all the heartbreak, 
longing and even yearn, 
love is the emotion that carries us forth, 
puts us together and tells us our worth, 
that we can be healthy and play without cares, 
it comes from our heart and rests in our prayers, 
but this emotion is fragile, 
you must nurture with care, 
because it can be broken, 
learn how not to care, 
so learn from my leasons, 
my faults and mistakes, 
and take my advice, 
do whatever it takes, 
to keep it from breaking, 
feed it with love and with care, 
because once you have it,
 it'll always be there
Trinity DeBusk Oct 2018
He was the warm embrace of twilight,
Igniting a fire in me I cannot put out.
He cricks and crackles like the hickory wood bonfire
On a chilly, autumn night.
The sweet smell of his smoke that permeates the air
Around you and leaves its trace in the clothes
You wore.

He is fire on a sandy beach.
Waving to the gentle tides of my black waters
Carefully not getting too close for fear of extinguishment.
He dare send his orange embers to float on my waves.
He does not fear our opposing spirits
Or how if he gets to close I will reluctantly but quickly end his flames.
The hiss as if he’s hurting from his quick demise.

I have watched from afar.
Waiting that one day I’ll be able to caress his fiery licks
But alas I cannot.
I am his killer
his inevitable doom.

He is the wonderful blaze I have come to expect when the nights turn cold.
He is my fire
He is my passion
He is my love.

So I will just lay here and wait for his sweet smoke and warm smile to embrace my sandy beach again.

I will wait
As I have done, and will do
Forever.
Anthony Collazo Sep 2019
They're whispering saying things
I shouldn't think filling my head,
with hatrid!
I feel depressed, I can not manage this,
I feel the quits, they're sneaking up
I hear the cricks I hear the creaks,
I feel defeat
I'm panicking so this is it
I failed to live.
I'm giving up
I'm giving in
I don't deserve to live like this,
So what it'll be.
A knotted rope
Or a slit wrist...

Will I finally get my rest
Who deserves all of this?
At least in death,
we have, a restful guess..
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2023
The days end like'
The last chord of a song-
As the final curtain falls over
The sky; covering another day
To it's eventual longer night'
An army of silence in the cricks of crickets,
The wickedness of the street calls, yelling out
"Save me, Save me, from the holes in my face"
In a city depraved of maintenance,
A year of the elect; elections around the corner'
I've come to the age to vote; a sexennial older

I a man, like the end of that song
Playing a melody of what self-care, self-motivating,
Self-discipline, and what my true self is willing sing
The key is, to be the beautiful that was tuned into your spirit

                                     ...Sing loudly myself

— The End —