"crimsoned" poems
The demons dance,
ominously disguised
as Monsoon clouds,
hovering above the
slick, crimsoned altar.
One more heart,
one more soul,
one more sacrifice
might make the toll.
Life-blood River
deposits iron
on the pyramid's
sculpted stone
cascading, absorbing deep, flooding the gates of hell.
On a canoe of bone
the King embarked
to negotiate peace
with the underworld rule.
"No more blood,
no more skulls
no more souls",
said the Lord . ...
"your time has come.
No more bargaining fool"
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 4:45 AM UTC
They say falling in love is not easy, but all it takes is a shot glass glance, and no sooner than later you’ll look at her profile in the dim light, and you’re in love.
Everything then becomes crimsoned, not because you are in a pub,
but rather because it is the shade of passion,
love.
And no sooner than now, you are dreaming of throwing your hands beneath her dress,
and thinking of mouthing, “I love you” from your eyes, to hers.
But no, she does not walk up to you, and you feel that the stereotypical misconception of a woman never making the first move, is true.
This is a man’s work, you tell yourself, dubiously forgetting what too lies between your legs, is nothing that of a man.
You’re intoxicant now, perhaps from the four Pabsts you've downed because you’re cheap and cool,
and you are incoherently waltzing
on over to her, and of course she smiles,
either because you look like an idiot,
or because she is charmed.
You cup your hands on her face.
The skin is soft, she says nothing,
but feels warm.
This is not love. You’re just drunk.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:54 AM UTC
sorry for my cutting presence
a darkened cloud of piercing shards
for these words stand to make a mark
I fight for girls and boys of a crimsoned heart
a mischievous rising that shakes and splinters
that comes down upon all of our calloused contenders
self proclaimed nights of armor
to which they could not stand any more wrong
oh how they pull and tug, weeding, deceiting us along
an enamored kiss that shined rose
cloaking all forehadowed, creeping woes
glittering flames that sparkled with lust
a now blistering conscious and presence of regretful musk
raise those silvery swords
because today crimsoned boys and girls
we enter a battle of heart forsaken war
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
everyday i'm discussing with everyday, myself as i make out to the glamouring
the inches and dashes of every self i have
and stitches of sinew here in which lies the me that is this i, i that am
i walked in leaves of grass, of wriggling splendor's summers of shoulders
and achy crimsoned necks by the suns meters of light
measuring the stints of our crawling opaque days and suns of many sons
it's very that is that even when sun should repose his ***** of uncadenced
carefully miraculous shimmering blood
like orange and ardent flesh he'd go on us it, giving his very stuff our bodies
to wear on our wheres and whens and whys. is night not also beautiful?
it is naked beautiful. **** and beautiful
plenteous and beautiful with all its hearts in tinder palely igniting every
atom of copious earth. bowls of copious illuminant children, the things
which will become after us
the us that we were before their coming. but they are gorgeous and neither
would i weep if in my going they should take that space where were was
i. resting the shouts of my self
in the orchards of youth, i am now so but it's quickly running, flitting
eagerly from my this. in vines and plurals i am single and many. neither
none nor many. but many ones,
little bubbles of tranquil vile fluid guttering the songs of wind.
i go to streams and they are me. i go to mountains and they are me. i go
to valleys and they are me.
can i be streams and mountains and valleys? can i not be streams and
mountains and valleys? they are weeds and i am a **** a **** is a rose.
i am rose.
i am blossomed in full spring. able of petals. i am turned to the sun, with my
root between the lips of earth. who is my lover. the earth is woman.
she is a ****
a **** is a rose.
by another name. they smell just as sweet.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 11:21 PM UTC
I grew wings
For you,
And became an impatient moth
Circling your fiery brand.
And I became like water,
Your thirst from the storm,
Daily you drank of me,
The drought in my body.
So I became a wild dahlia,
And you cut me from the stem,
The flower that grew had not yet
Known what it was to bloom.
Devastate me,
I am blessed with every wound
Your love opens, blessed is your knife,
And praise the alter, I await.
Cut me a thousand times,
I am your crimsoned lover,
The rose blood is flowing with your
Everything, I bleed deeply.
Instead of a ring of promise
Love, I will make a ring of thorns,
I will wear a necklace anchors,
They would drown me into you.
Devastated:
You will see me smile,
You will see me hurting.
And when you realize the love,
You will cry for me,
And you will be mine forever.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
petal by petal
the flower of your heart
The end I lost in a dream
They float past my membrane
Crimsoned with hatred
I scatter your belongings of our opening funeral
The distant laughter,
I will never know, and the tears flow
each one is gone,
ever beyond into infinite pain
Alone I stay
while years burry me
The flower aged though its fragrance still lingers.
I am more beautiful then now,I am perfect.
But you will never know,
You are blind
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
HER:
no, stay back.
please!
inside of me
is a demon
who,
will consume
and devour
every bit
of you...
HIM:
let me, please!
just let me.
inside of me
is a hell
where,
your demon
can live...
and so
i did.
and
we became
matchsticks.
one stroke,
just a single stroke
we ignited.
into burning,
scorching flames
of crimsoned
scarlet fire...
yes,
i
can
forever
live
in
you...
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
Love’s soother, sweeter than all lyre’s thrall,
Hark the lullaby held it captive, lest all sirens fall…
O sweeting!
Sang the wind unto me,
Lacking stature, crimsoned complexion,
My wishful gaze upon one…
Shades of affection, a dye hight red,
Sparked living as I gasped, “O yonder boon !”
Harbouring lust, yet gallantly shining;
Enchanting I, my soul deeply ensnared,
Yonder eyes, colourful or maybe of a shade?
One upon worlds, fair gleaming masquerade,
Myriad in colours, the fountain of all shades,
All but one it gleams, ‘tis yonder shade yclept fade…
Like Mab granting night’s pseudo-heaven,
Thou art to me my fairy, verily Mab; O amabilis!
Mine velvet noon, whose night’s fair and fancy,
O fair muse! La pucelle d’Alfheim, I flatter thee!
Flattering personas, all of the fairest,
Though one was lost, of all which I know not,
Wilt thou? Indulge me in those, thy full façade?
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
My top and bottom incisors do not meet
the wall of your big toe between them,
my enamel spades crushing against your nail bed so gently,
perforating your toes’ soft bottoms so exquisitely.
My tongue slowly dances with your toes,
the ridges above and the arch below the foot,
you flinch at the tickle.
My mouth dancing like an anemic acrobat,
it finds his way along the high-wire of your fishnet guarded legs,
their pale contrast to the red cloth exciting.
Suddenly, you shudder as the muscle in my mouth finds
your flesh exposed above the stocking line,
I am a conquistador and I have discovered a new land – I will subjugate it,
taking it’s precious jewels and spices,
consuming them and getting fat with the richness that is this New World before me.
I devour you so slowly – is my mouth even moving?
It is leaving a trail,
slightly damp like a dehydrated slug,
a leech ******* each piece
until the bleached skin becomes en-crimsoned by the bruises
my biting and ******* have made.
Will you try to hide them?
I move on to places where this disguising will not be a concern, and you begin to spasm.
I’ve hung myself on these gallows,
and so having to die because of it,
I will relish it;
an abandonment atrocity of aestheticism.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
Down at the bottom of this hole
I worked so long and hard to dig
I can barely see the sunlight any more.
My feet are molding from the salty damp
That doesn’t come from rain
Or subterranean springs or rivers.
My shovel leans against the wall,
It’s wooden handle crimsoned
On the dirt that also isn’t paint.
Impossible for wind to reach me
Way down here, so what’s that howling
That I hear? Could it possibly be me?
ljm
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 12:32 PM UTC
the mouth of life gaping
for a warm wave of whisps
underlying sun captured
making an accomplice
vines weaving upon her shoulder
pink flowers intertwined with her crimsoned hair
pouring kerosine on the woodened Fire
for that's the warmth she yearned
meadowlarks having vivid conversations
wishing she could fly to the clouds
smelling pines rolling the breeze
watery drop scatters the freckles
fore the day is sad; grimacing
the girl with the crimsoned hair
returns back, for a cup of tea gladly relinquished.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
Daylight messenger rests in sky alleys
Shining like snowy pearls
He glides with the scent of the valley
Fairy mist wraps up the cores of roses
Awaking their youth's aroma
Morning carries a bliss of chroma
With roots inside the earthly womb
Their cosmic songs flow
Feeding our senses with goodness
Enigmatic spirits
Has their beauty shown
The valley offers her rich growth
Petals majestic thrive crimsoned with a glee
Their oils are a blessing to all
Green forms breathe, apples, and grass sculpted within a scene
In the Land of Roses
Bulgaria, oh jewel in the wild
Your wheat and your goods spring from deep like the waters
Sep 14, 2023
Sep 14, 2023 at 9:39 PM UTC
My heart is dark
My soul is cracked
But if you search through my mind
You'll find gold inside
Into the dirt I was tossed
Even all of my bones were crushed
Though I may look rough on all sides
This ruby will for sure shine
I am formed with hope
Crimsoned with bronze
Diamond are my eyes
Yet silver is mine
Because I am broken
I became forgotten and forsaken
As though i'm lost in this storm of life
But this treasure I hope you find
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 1:56 PM UTC
Thy naked flesh,
O' so beautiful-
Kissed by the moon,
Tickled by the stars,
Their light shines off thee,
Wet to the touch,
Salty to the taste,
Marred by the stain of sin,
From my crimsoned lips
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 6:27 AM UTC
girlsome that immortal which
by vibrant edge of slivered day
( stops suddenly )
the miraculous bulge and clumsy twitch
o' sweetly crimsoned even's fay
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
I sold my freedom to poetry
and never looked back.
let ink carve oaths,
oaths of lament, agony, affliction.
Every relationship a writing prompt,
each goodbye an unfinished draft.
half-written verses crimsoned the margins,
monsters growling between the lines.
I revive old wounds for epiphany,
reshape anguish until it rhymes.
Every trauma, a metaphor
a sonnet dressed in ruin,
a haiku carved from ache.
And when the page is filled,
when the ink dries,
who remains—me, or the dead poet??
Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 2:11 PM UTC