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zebra Feb 2017
forgive me my darling
hollow beauty
but seeing you so gaunt
with
sunken dark eyes
and skin like gray soap
makes me feel
your easily breakable
already so close to death
my **** could crack your pelvis
and bird delicate ribs

inspired skeleton dancing
your body exclaims to all
a sensual exhibition
of slow suicide
my bloodless blossom
brave breatharian
your favorite math
subtraction
by multiplied
delicious starvations

you may need a strong man
deaths final instrument
who will love you
with tender crushes
darkly ******

come naked
spread wide my lovely grotesque
nestle in my arms
coffins embrace
to be bruised
while tremulously kissed
i will turn you to crumbles and powder
to finish sweetly
what you have started so long ago
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, not judge me, although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
English Jam May 2018
Boredom on a Sunday is inescapable
I try to hide it behind playing my musical instrument
Trumpeting with my trumpet - blowing my own horn -
I'm praying no one interprets that last sentence as an innuendo
Anyway, I'm nodding off, signing out of reality
The world goes hazy in a second
And I'm ****** into the vortex of a dream

Weird how when a dream begins, we immediately understand the situation
For this scene, I'm spewing blood from my spleen like a bottle of sauce squeezed too hard
It stains the leather of my vehicle
My foot is pressing the pedal to the floor, and the speedometer is twinged in half from all the pressure
The monolith of a highway I'm speeding on shakes as though giants stomp upon it
And the wail of a siren drives me into a frenzy as I try to escape the inevitable
Their polychromatic lights dance at the edges of my eyes, spurring rhythm into action
Even though they must be aeons behind, my heart melodramatically pumps in my chest as though the police are in the backseat
Blood bursting through my temple, thoughts wheezing by like someone's let go of hundreds of balloons  
Up ahead, the road twists itself into a knot of nothingness
My hands are wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly, I fear I might never be able to release them
It's a slight movement: right hand goes down, left goes up, but it kicks the vehicle sideways
My body slams into the car with a satisfying crunch and my mind spirals to spaghetti strands
Oddly enough, the world becomes rinsed with blue wash and I'm underwater

My train of thought becomes peaceful, melodic
I float about, running on the inverse of the waves
Here, even a scream is joyous as it sounds all bubbly and childish
Suddenly, a red streak runs across the ocean, chilling me to the bone and erasing all my bubbles
The sea becomes glittered with red and blue streaks, a warning
Bullets stab at my spleen, reminding me of the pain that was, and still is
And my body gears into a full 360, concluding my return to the real world
Or is it the dream world?
Oh well
Either way, I'm back in my car
Carelessly freefalling from nowhere
Weapons, glass, blood droplets, pocket change, pedestrians...all breeze around slowly
Pleading with me to wake up
Then

Everything crumbles, and I smack my **** head against the window, splattering my brains everywhere
My car flew from the sudden turn and I crashed, I think
Now I lay, grasping onto consciousness while pedagogues staple me to the ground
The Lawman towers over me, grinning madly at my defeat
The most barbaric insult, however, comes from the radio, still magically working
"I fought the law and the law won," The Clash idly sing
One of my favourite songs turned into dark irony
The last I remember before blacking out is the scarlet and marine lights clashing forevermore

When I wake up, I'm face-down on the stony and icy floor
The cold burns me enough to wake me from la la land
The iron grip of the handcuffs feels very real
Words are forced into my head, not by my own design, but sort of like they've been placed there
An argument as to whether existence has a meaning is taking place in my head, and I can't stop it
Sort of like how in a dream, you can't control your thoughts or actions
Wait
This is still a dream, right?
Right?
patty m Feb 2015
Silly fools,
touching the planchette
as it invades the haunts of spirits and demons
their dangerous interaction
pointing to blackened letters
or the answers yes or no.

Open gateway something relentless creeps to the surface
unbeknownst to anyone.  
Do they think this is a game, this summoning?

Bluesman, playing his guitar
sings about a shadowy man
on a dark road and the bargains he makes.
Moonless skies and rumbling trains
a strange twisting in guts
as a crows caw spreading shiny wings.

Shadows, the long road is filled with shadow,
filigreed limbs darkening fleeting time and the trains with
their black smoky smudge muffling secrets.

A strange man turns up, like a carney in a traveling show
to show us a frightening future.
Spreading prophesies of horrible events along with the demise of millions, with demons gnawing human flesh.
Then too there was the promise of the dead rising;
exhumed bodies, an army of zombies marching.

Old men smoke their cigarettes, lungs crackling
in phlegmy coughs, rheumy eyes filled with pain
as they watch the children **** in frenzied dance
their heads spinning clockwise. . .  
The train chugs off in the distance
as the last illusion crumbles into a dark and rotting hole.

We no longer see the stranger.
as the song comes to an end,
yet disquieting things skitter on the edge of reason
as they slither through our fear.
Up ahead looms a fiery god staying
trajectories of doom and damnation,
while the Bluesman strums his old guitar
on a ghost train going nowhere.
Spenser Bennett Apr 2016
Life like sand castles
Wash away so blissfully
Crumbles in your hand
patty m May 2014
Pride is vacuous

shattering in disbelief;

dust of my life

stones of irony

the wall I built crumbles.

Love is never love, I call it pain,

and hearts are never valentines

but simply dreams turned ashen.


Fevered wind bearing dead blossoms

I embrace grief

wrapped in tired days,

the sameness my extinction;

alone the world is silent

an inlet to forgotten soul.

Where is the sheen,

the fragrance, the passion rising?

I yearn to yell,

to war and never knuckle under

but life is murk and mire

and love is quicksand;

better to hate

and die in battle

or quickly drown.

Sameness has no music

in its sonata to crows,

even living is exile

in the shadow of shadows.
Pagan Paul Jul 2018
.
And her arms enfold me,
I lay my cheek
against her breast.
The shaking starts,
the tears fall,
as sobs emerge unhindered.
Cries from way down deep,
and I hear her heart,
slow, steady, metronomic.
So I follow its rhythm
along a path richly bathed
in warm sunlight.
Through an archway
and across a threshold shrine,
the cemetery of the Ancients.
A hundred thousand names,
carved in marble,
adorned with statues and plinths.
Holding knowledge of old,
and the sound of silence,
like an abandoned library.

The shadow of love hovers close,
driving through midnight mists
and leading me on.
Practising narrative necromancy,
reanimating old words,
giving them life newly born,
upon the first carved marbles,
its names burnished with wisdom,
and the anonymity of obscurity.
There glows one name
in forgotten script
and I know my deepest identity,
the weight of the aeons
flows free into my mind,
histories of the millennia.
I know
my Forest Lady holds secrets
that belong to me.
And she gestates them all,
a coveted pregnancy.

A path-working, an etherical dream,
and her heart skips a beat,
as another part of me
crumbles and dies,
to mingle with the dust
of ancient knowledge.



© Pagan Paul (11/07/18)
.
athena Nov 2016
you were there on his last night
and was there on the night
we stumbled upon
an unfamiliar house
the creatures were making
a peculiar sound
it was the strange place we inhabited
for as long as we could be brave

you were with me when i lost a limb
you saw grief and tropical storms
right through my eyes
you heard words come out
of my mouth, they were all
in past tense and shaky

the best four years a teenager could have
i have spent them with you
i gave you my trust, my blood
and our promises
you met the 3am version of myself
which i believed that is ours
only to keep

i could not fathom the grief
of losing a limb
nor the grief
of seeing our strange house
collapse right in front of me
but the concrete was made of trust

you contended that you were here
to extend succor, immediate aid
to a grieving soul, to your friend
you came in crowds extending
sympathy as how i've seen it
little did i know that succor
meant pulling the trigger

when the tectonic plates
and the seismic waves
bends the buildings
and crumbles to the ground

when the tropical storm
named after me
pull the tress from its roots
floods the households
and all the different routes

or when your 3am uncertainties
scare you, and you would howl
and howl and howl
but who will you run to?
Take my hand
hold on through the quicksand
of my expressed agony
for I’m trying to bring us past the vanity
and the demonic hailings I paint
can as swiftly change to angels sailing past the hate
my words can take you from a pearless white night
with only the moon in sight
then twist that light back to
the sun’s beaming might
surround you in a blizzard
with imagery so vivid
it cuts through the snow
like a rock in a rivers flow
bring you from the crumbles of earthly ruins
to the humble pearly white gates of heavenly viewings
invoke you in anger & apathy
a firery rage bellowing
until you hear a fazed echoeing
pulling you from the depths of mind
to the paradise I envisioned for
mankind
corrupt you with illness of doubtful hate
then present a panacea of a
hopeful fate

I know I’m just a man,
but take my hand
and I’ll show to your there’s more to us than a monotonous plan
The sky fills up with ash as if its an over flowing dam
patiently waiting...
Ready to rupture at any given point
We repaved the cracks and set out the fires
“its to late.”
Walls that were once unbreakable now stand thin
fires burn at our feet as the flood crumbles us from above
The unbreakable walls that held back all the bad are now in shambles
Justin Apr 2013
My father was carved from a mountain,
his features were etched from the stone,
but like all mountains my father will crumble,
he was in need of an heir to his throne.
My mother was born of the ocean,
like a flower she bloomed from the sea,
but when the tide overcame the mountain,
all that remained on the shore was me.
My brother was forged of hot iron,
no straighter a path could he walk,
he draws all his strength from the mountain,
his veins run deep through the rock.
My brother was grown in the forest,
so vivid, alive and in sync,
he draws all his strength from the ocean,
his roots thrive on the water they drink.
I was born of my father and mother,
I crawled from the ocean and stone,
and when my father finally crumbles,
his two heirs will inherit his throne.
I will travel to nations of bloodshed,
I will not let my death go to waste,
I will lay down my life in the desert,
to keep my fathers throne safe.
He had a paper maché heart,
and weekly, it was layered again
with more glue, protecting him.
And one day, it completely snapped in two,
he tried so hard to be free.
Now his heart is mazed in crumbles,
and he's lost in the debris-
All feedback is welcome and deeply appreciated!
Andrew Oct 2017
Things blow up
People throw up
And then walk on
A land mine
When they talk on
A landline

I try to enjoy myself
But enjoyment has stealth
And eludes
Which secludes
Happiness hides
Behind sentinel shrapnel
That makes us abide
The rules of this flat Hell

There are frequent explosions in my mind
They are sequenced implosions through time
I have poor explanations
For my inflammations
My hands fumble
My brain crumbles
Progress is lost
That's the cost

Frustration cooks
From holy books
And constitutions
That can't be changed
Or rearranged
So we're gridlocked in an explosion
In Hell's fruitless fire we are frozen

Explosions dot the planet like acne
Humanity has no choice except to get older
Sharing information is our main asset yet we grow colder
We must evolve together
We're doomed to be tethered
So we must gel
To avoid Hell
There are monsters in our midst
In our mind is where they sit
We must expel them together
Or we'll be exploding forever
Jason Drury Oct 2014
Sun ached to rise,
above the jagged horizon.
It lit the shadow,
of stone work,
of your craftsmanship.
It stood high,
strong and everlasting.
A stone giant,
held together with assumption.
Assumption of him,
the prince that you seek.
Recently one has followed,
to the top where you lie.
He said the verse,
a promise, an assumption.
He would mend the holes,
patch the sides.
As time rhythmically passes,
the tower would stand,
strong and eager.
Until your assumption,
is not yet reality.
The one that followed,
sometime ago,
has left with the moon.
As your eye tears,
the tower leans,
crumbles.
The salty liquid,
corrodes your assumption,
that is often set in stone.
I watch from afar,
knowing the outcome.
I tread among the emotion,
overflowing and scattered around.
As your kin, your brother,
I help to pick up the pieces.
DuBray Sep 2018
The autumnal equinox
Clock
Plays a slower music box

The browns, reds, golds
Bends, crumbles and folds
On nature's debris road

While a frosty moon
Fills up a child's room
Like a huge balloon
Bella Aug 2018
I'm doing so good
so good
but I know it's just distractions
and what happens when the distractions run out
at what point is getting rid of the bad
by ignoring the bad
a bad thing?

I mean,
it seems good
until you think about it
and I think about it
it's all still there
I just kept tip toeing around triggers in the battlefield of my own mind
and I can't just do nothing
and I can't be alone in the dark

because then I'm not better anymore
and all of that hard work of ignoring and ignoring and distracting and ignoring just crumbles
it all goes to ****
and I'm left sobbing desperately so desperately

so tell me
which is better
being depressed all the time
or distracting myself from my own depression
tiptoeing around my own thoughts and dying a little every time I step on a creaky board

which one is better
Chris Thomas Jul 2017
The mind can only think so much
Before it wanders
Before it dampens
Before it derails

The heart can only take so much
Before it withers
Before it crumbles
Before it falters

Sever ties before they tighten
Sever love before it blooms
Sever us before I shatter
Sever these memories that loom

Because the mind can only think so much
Before it wanders
Before it dampens
Before it derails

And the heart can only take so much
Before it withers
Before it crumbles
Before it falters

.
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