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"damply" poems
Another year gone, leaving everywhere its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves, the uneaten fruits crumbling damply in the shadows, unmattering back from the particular island of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere except underfoot, moldering in that black subterranean castle of unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds and the wanderings of water. This I try to remember when time's measure painfully chafes, for instance when autumn flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing to stay - how everything lives, shifting from one bright vision to another, forever in these momentary pastures.
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47.6k
Fall Song
i'm cold and damply drowning in all these blackish tones and tunes. it's hard to find a song to err on the side of brighter hues. especially when i'm so frostily submerged in these tonal blues.
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Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
the color of music
For Basil@Egmont Old school hotelier, conservationist, mountain man. Festooning drapes of weeping moss Hang damply from the trees Cascading lengths of dripping fern Bring wetness to your knees The clutching boughs of gnarled branch The olive greens and damp The winding path meanders up This mountain's rocky ramp Grey boulders in the river bed The rush of torrents fast, The song of falling waters Plummeting into the past. The flash of brilliant plumage A  blue kingfisher in a dive And the tragic death of this field mouse Means other creatures stay alive. The mammoth mountain hangs above The snow is clean and white The cornice shadow aqua blue Ridge ice is sunlight bright The summit wind is blowing hard The snow is curling round To recreate a billowed crown Atop that seaward mound. A dancing *** is eyeing me, Impossibly it clings Inverted from a totara trunk With rapid flitting wings. Exploding from it's hiding place A ponderous pigeon ***** And weaves it's way between the boughs With noisy wing tip slaps The magic of this secret place Is the drama in the air, The solitude of teeming life In green-ness everywhere. The hardness of the freezing night The harshness of the wind, The grandeur of it's wilderness Paints splendor as it's sin. Taranaki's goblin forest Is resplendent in it's garb Of emerald green and turquois-ness And rugged rocks and shard, Cascading rivers, waterfalls In sweeping walls of trees Where pools of still transparency Bring you breathless to your knees. Where Egmont's goblin forest Will make your spirits sing And the urge to climb another mile Will reward you with something You had not bargained for in visiting This remote and splendid place, ......It will reward you with a warm, And knowing smile upon your face. Marshalg Dawson Falls Romantic Hotel Mt. Taranaki 15th September 2008
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Dec 10, 2009
Dec 10, 2009 at 8:28 PM UTC
Into the Goblin Forest
For Basil@Egmont Old school hotelier, conservationist, mountain man. Festooning drapes of weeping moss Hang damply from the trees Cascading lengths of dripping fern Bring wetness to your knees The clutching boughs of gnarled branch The olive greens and damp The winding path meanders up This mountain's rocky ramp Grey boulders in the river bed The rush of torrents fast, The song of falling waters Plummeting into the past. The flash of brilliant plumage A  blue kingfisher in a dive And the tragic death of this field mouse Means other creatures stay alive. The mammoth mountain hangs above The snow is clean and white The cornice shadow aqua blue Ridge ice is sunlight bright The summit wind is blowing hard The snow is curling round To recreate a billowed crown Atop that seaward mound. A dancing *** is eyeing me, Impossibly it clings Inverted from a totara trunk With rapid flitting wings. Exploding from it's hiding place A ponderous pigeon ***** And weaves it's way between the boughs With noisy wing tip slaps The magic of this secret place Is the drama in the air, The solitude of teeming life In green-ness everywhere. The hardness of the freezing night The harshness of the wind, The grandeur of it's wilderness Paints splendor as it's sin. Taranaki's goblin forest Is resplendent in it's garb Of emerald green and turquois-ness And rugged rocks and shard, Cascading rivers, waterfalls In sweeping walls of trees Where pools of still transparency Bring you breathless to your knees. Where Egmont's goblin forest Will make your spirits sing And the urge to climb another mile Will reward you with something You had not bargained for in visiting This remote and splendid place, ......It will reward you with a warm, And knowing smile upon your face. Marshalg Dawson Falls Romantic Hotel Mt. Taranaki 15th September 2008
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62
It comes suddenly a storm that rages to fury bleeding me between your hands, your mouth, to where each syllable lost between midnight’s satin crests into a crazed madness where the soft slide hardens to gripping intentions as my arousal tastes in jasmine-licked surrenders like manna for your hungered heaven there, where no scream goes unanswered but only echoed, you are with me primal seared, the flesh of you wetly hot to my thundering pulse, I am surrender laced with impetuous desires woven to linger upon your reddened lips pressed ******* scrape across your flesh as you moan in greedy adoration to my whispered frenzy, “taste me here, let me feed you there” the suckle of your hot mouth plastered to my ******* fills me and I am burgeoning upon graven yearns here, I ache in throbbing flames as your tongue lathes love’s lick playing tag to my purr of silken gasps and breathy mewling cries in your ears stating my submission of this plunging dominance…. I burn…burn …to inferno Smiles wreathe pearl as you revel in my passionate blossom, your lick peels me wanton where we are pooled shameless and painted, my torrents are spilled for you stained and swallowed greedily and I, quivering in the tsunami that you bequeath to my racking body, I arch, reaching that shattering golden gateway singing joyous to the columns of fate’s raging wave Unleashed, I am the tide Where you are damply hollow and drowning...
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Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
With Intent:
Yes! It's another Barry Hodges "Memories" poem!" I shall never forget our first date together, How we wandered through the streets of Soho, Gazing into the **** shop windows, Laughing at the giant vibrators on display... And later, a romantic meal in a French bistro, Where the rules of hygiene were not As strictly observed as might have been hoped for, Promising a regurgitatory treat in store... You ignored the startled eyes of our fellow diners And brutally shoved your tongue in my mouth; O how fiercely I slurped on it enthusiastically Caressing it with my own mouth sausage... I ****** and ****** and ****** and ****** And (oh joy!) I could taste the garlicky bits 'Twixt your gorgeous unwashed choppers; How my underwear damply stretched out of shape... I withdrew my probing tongue and kissed your cheek Affectionately, yet trembling with rampant desire; And I boldly licked a firm yellow-topped spot With its previously observed black centre... My huge uncontrollable lust conquered The demands of demodé bourgeois good manners And I sunk my incisors into that zitty beauty Relishing the hard core waiting just for me therein... The waiting staff were deeply impressed as I chewed In rapturous sensual joyous contemplation And you spluttered bloodily in loving agony Your own mighty ****** fast approaching... Oh what a foretaste of what was to come When we repaired to my convenient bedsit For an immensely gratifying triple bonk Prior to a staggering mutual diarrhoea session... And now I lie back in sweet recollection Of the many nights we spent in copulation But how sad I am as, looking at the deserted bed, I can still make out the stains of your dying turds.
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Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
Memories of an ****** Encounter in a Soho Bistro
Yes! It's another Barry Hodges "Memories" poem!" I shall never forget our first date together, How we wandered through the streets of Soho, Gazing into the **** shop windows, Laughing at the giant vibrators on display... And later, a romantic meal in a French bistro, Where the rules of hygiene were not As strictly observed as might have been hoped for, Promising a regurgitatory treat in store... You ignored the startled eyes of our fellow diners And brutally shoved your tongue in my mouth; O how fiercely I slurped on it enthusiastically Caressing it with my own mouth sausage... I ****** and ****** and ****** and ****** And (oh joy!) I could taste the garlicky bits 'Twixt your gorgeous unwashed choppers; How my underwear damply stretched out of shape... I withdrew my probing tongue and kissed your cheek Affectionately, yet trembling with rampant desire; And I boldly licked a firm yellow-topped spot With its previously observed black centre... My huge uncontrollable lust conquered The demands of demodé bourgeois good manners And I sunk my incisors into that zitty beauty Relishing the hard core waiting just for me therein... The waiting staff were deeply impressed as I chewed In rapturous sensual joyous contemplation And you spluttered bloodily in loving agony Your own mighty ****** fast approaching... Oh what a foretaste of what was to come When we repaired to my convenient bedsit For an immensely gratifying triple bonk Prior to a staggering mutual diarrhoea session... And now I lie back in sweet recollection Of the many nights we spent in copulation But how sad I am as, looking at the deserted bed, I can still make out the stains of your dying turds.
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a man cloaked in dust bitten rays skip down the rude lit hall as a voice calls to him run your fitful bow across my cracked teacup mouth and draw forth a loosed leaf smile at first i dismiss it as contrived twaddle one might hear in settings where silk roses bloom on synthetic counter islands or a cloth lily wrecks on its maiden voyage mid-way through a copper sink’s bounded blue but cigarette tip joy burns peep holes into my cottony resistance it’s a compact thrill as dense as the peach pit my tooth struck to chip that once such piquant frissons dissipate into damply aromatic trickles when the man replies with a tartly rolled lavender bud ready to burst its pink i’ve the heart of a wobbly kneed boy about to pull back the tulle cloud on an auburn morn’s feathery bathers petaled girdle strewn on the slippery rock path leads up to her dewy lap where luminescent splayed fingers lay printed hymns when ash trimmed logs fall from his fatty lips i take the house sparrow’s hasty cue to flap a skyward exit out from the bony white glow of his unfulfilling promises
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Aug 23, 2010
Aug 23, 2010 at 8:54 AM UTC
if i had wings i'd spy
The chair gripped like a bear mauled into place tongue tied, throat silenced roaring.... ferociously ..... the door raged between us locked loudly cries , crawled their grimy patch hung momentarily, felt the stale air quietly gathering, pooling damply cheek soddened in pain giant force propelled, the floor hard and unrelenting shocked my bones breath forced itself outward.... black and rigid the open window of before.... forced shut palms spread across the floor interrupted, reinforced toes stamped crushingly, the sound resonating without movement now
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Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Sinister
A "Memories" Poem from the great Barry Hodges' pen I shall never forget our first date together, How we wandered through the streets of Soho, Gazing into the **** shop windows, Laughing at the giant vibrators on display... And later, a romantic meal in a French bistro, Where the rules of hygiene were not As strictly observed as might have been hoped for, Promising a regurgitatory treat in store... You ignored the startled eyes of our fellow diners And brutally shoved your tongue in my mouth; O how fiercely I slurped on it enthusiastically Caressing it with my own mouth sausage... I ****** and ****** and ****** and ****** And (oh joy!) I could taste the garlicky bits 'Twixt your gorgeous unwashed choppers; How my underwear damply stretched out of shape... I withdrew my probing tongue and kissed your cheek Affectionately, yet trembling with rampant desire; And I boldly licked a firm yellow-topped spot With its previously observed black centre... My huge uncontrollable lust conquered The demands of demodé bourgeois good manners And I sunk my incisors into that zitty beauty Relishing the hard core waiting just for me therein... The waiting staff were deeply impressed as I chewed In rapturous sensual joyous contemplation And you spluttered bloodily in loving agony Your own mighty ****** fast approaching... Oh what a foretaste of what was to come When we repaired to my convenient bedsit For an immensely gratifying triple bonk Prior to a staggering mutual diarrhoea session.
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Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
Memories of a Little Soho Bistro
A "Memories" Poem from the great Barry Hodges' pen I shall never forget our first date together, How we wandered through the streets of Soho, Gazing into the **** shop windows, Laughing at the giant vibrators on display... And later, a romantic meal in a French bistro, Where the rules of hygiene were not As strictly observed as might have been hoped for, Promising a regurgitatory treat in store... You ignored the startled eyes of our fellow diners And brutally shoved your tongue in my mouth; O how fiercely I slurped on it enthusiastically Caressing it with my own mouth sausage... I ****** and ****** and ****** and ****** And (oh joy!) I could taste the garlicky bits 'Twixt your gorgeous unwashed choppers; How my underwear damply stretched out of shape... I withdrew my probing tongue and kissed your cheek Affectionately, yet trembling with rampant desire; And I boldly licked a firm yellow-topped spot With its previously observed black centre... My huge uncontrollable lust conquered The demands of demodé bourgeois good manners And I sunk my incisors into that zitty beauty Relishing the hard core waiting just for me therein... The waiting staff were deeply impressed as I chewed In rapturous sensual joyous contemplation And you spluttered bloodily in loving agony Your own mighty ****** fast approaching... Oh what a foretaste of what was to come When we repaired to my convenient bedsit For an immensely gratifying triple bonk Prior to a staggering mutual diarrhoea session.
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in the part of the cool hill's soft thighs trembles the callous shaft of dawn penetrating the ephemeral violence of the stabbing rods of arbor scent damply the night mare goes galloping whinny little sins of star caresses but none are so shy and sly as the eye clasped hollow in the stench of (and also the slender flowers smirk at the blossoms young flesh broken by the light song) Morpheus' guileless laughter as shattered the disheveled clubs swing ransoms of heart lips between the twain of the enchanted leaves there rests a silver bit of girl so blisteringly beautiful blushes all the world for holding this trembling aperture of onyx plait holding femininity so electric is the artifice of her glimmering chastity, swore the sun it would never shine on any other thing so savagely its shivering skin of golden pleasure as this her (but just so the moon loved her too as passionate as any other lover ever imagined or material. spitting delicate strands of shimmer upon the golden-brown skein of her shoulders) she woke startled by the amorous dome crinkling on the perfection of her lithe sensual frame. stupidly the ideal birds sang, trying to match the elegance of her narrow waist; but failed hideously drowning the silence in virulent soundless noise. then brimmed every god to the lip of everything to peer upon this unbearable visage and dither in the perfection of its curves. suddenly the Rose blistered from the soil and came wetly a residue of crimson from its supple petals mounting the vision of her absolute eyes. splaying the gentle hips of sight to receive the splendor of its thorned stem into her hand and ***** the silk of her hands slowly releasing a jewel of life all this witnessed by the cloistered huddles of gossamer children. hideously perfect men wantonly begging for the grace of her sensual pond. beckon they, to them, her but she refuseth and make for the realm of Hades. quietly, in death, waiting for some heat to unfreeze the skin of her blue heart frozen still darkness.
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Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
XIII
in the part of the cool hill's soft thighs trembles the callous shaft of dawn penetrating the ephemeral violence of the stabbing rods of arbor scent damply the night mare goes galloping whinny little sins of star caresses but none are so shy and sly as the eye clasped hollow in the stench of (and also the slender flowers smirk at the blossoms young flesh broken by the light song) Morpheus' guileless laughter as shattered the disheveled clubs swing ransoms of heart lips between the twain of the enchanted leaves there rests a silver bit of girl so blisteringly beautiful blushes all the world for holding this trembling aperture of onyx plait holding femininity so electric is the artifice of her glimmering chastity, swore the sun it would never shine on any other thing so savagely its shivering skin of golden pleasure as this her (but just so the moon loved her too as passionate as any other lover ever imagined or material. spitting delicate strands of shimmer upon the golden-brown skein of her shoulders) she woke startled by the amorous dome crinkling on the perfection of her lithe sensual frame. stupidly the ideal birds sang, trying to match the elegance of her narrow waist; but failed hideously drowning the silence in virulent soundless noise. then brimmed every god to the lip of everything to peer upon this unbearable visage and dither in the perfection of its curves. suddenly the Rose blistered from the soil and came wetly a residue of crimson from its supple petals mounting the vision of her absolute eyes. splaying the gentle hips of sight to receive the splendor of its thorned stem into her hand and ***** the silk of her hands slowly releasing a jewel of life all this witnessed by the cloistered huddles of gossamer children. hideously perfect men wantonly begging for the grace of her sensual pond. beckon they, to them, her but she refuseth and make for the realm of Hades. quietly, in death, waiting for some heat to unfreeze the skin of her blue heart frozen still darkness.
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The night was damp & dark & cold and silence overcame the dwelling. When all could be heard was the repetitious heartbeat & the thickness of fear ever swelling. The young girl sat up straight in her bed - sweat & tears coursing streams down her face. She couldn't call for her mother or father to help her the horrid images erase. As she sat there the dream played reruns in her mind - the screams from a room that could not be found. She'd opened each door to salvage her loved one, only to find herself captured and bound. The mysterious man wore a mask on his face to hide heinous scars that lie underneath. As he stepped from the dark he removed the veiling mask and used it as a gag so she could not breathe. She writhed and pulled to set herself free, but to no avail the bonds only grew stronger. She screamed at the top of her lungs for help until she could scream no longer. He walked around her in ominous circles planning his next evil motion: "Perhaps vicious torture, or better yet! I'll concoct a death-dealing potion." Then he whispered damply in her ear as she cringed from the touch of his fingers and the stench of his breath in the room overwhelmed - even now awake, in her mind the scent odiously lingers. And after the potion was finally complete he takes creeping paces toward her. And with each step his monotonous laugh grows louder & louder & LOUDER! And then, as the vile touches her lips and the bitterness shocks her taste buds, she breaks free from the villain and puts him to death and runs, but there's nowhere to run. And she comes to the end of a long, dark hallway and begins to fall through a ravenous abyss and then came the bottom, which is when she awoke in a cold sweat with clenched teeth & clenched fists. © 1999
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Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 11:46 PM UTC
Nightmare
The night was damp & dark & cold and silence overcame the dwelling. When all could be heard was the repetitious heartbeat & the thickness of fear ever swelling. The young girl sat up straight in her bed - sweat & tears coursing streams down her face. She couldn't call for her mother or father to help her the horrid images erase. As she sat there the dream played reruns in her mind - the screams from a room that could not be found. She'd opened each door to salvage her loved one, only to find herself captured and bound. The mysterious man wore a mask on his face to hide heinous scars that lie underneath. As he stepped from the dark he removed the veiling mask and used it as a gag so she could not breathe. She writhed and pulled to set herself free, but to no avail the bonds only grew stronger. She screamed at the top of her lungs for help until she could scream no longer. He walked around her in ominous circles planning his next evil motion: "Perhaps vicious torture, or better yet! I'll concoct a death-dealing potion." Then he whispered damply in her ear as she cringed from the touch of his fingers and the stench of his breath in the room overwhelmed - even now awake, in her mind the scent odiously lingers. And after the potion was finally complete he takes creeping paces toward her. And with each step his monotonous laugh grows louder & louder & LOUDER! And then, as the vile touches her lips and the bitterness shocks her taste buds, she breaks free from the villain and puts him to death and runs, but there's nowhere to run. And she comes to the end of a long, dark hallway and begins to fall through a ravenous abyss and then came the bottom, which is when she awoke in a cold sweat with clenched teeth & clenched fists. © 1999
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& what are you? you; are the naked saturday sweaty hills neatly on your skin. thou art: the rain damply kissing a thousand times my neck. you are the supple stocks the roots ; the petals you are a fountain of stunning music lashing crimson fists on my and you are a flock of muscles rightly. or you are the splinter of *** in a nocturne moon plated demurely akimbo. you are thee. you are the contraction of my fibers in the ecstasy of wet summer lips) the crescent of heaven and you are eht . fragility of life in a manifesto of pleasure. are you are the lucid abstraction of beauty. aphrodite Fleshed in the sinew of reality. cambered in the pasture my hands. you are YoU arE. m I n E
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Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 2:52 PM UTC
XVI
I was afraid to walk outside in case the rain would catch me standing as I am and was; alone, unrequited, an apple-pitted girl against whatever comes to mind. Say it, anything, dance damply under the unmoving ceiling fan and move like falling wind in summer. The only time I feel like me, summer. The only time to stop and not feel immobile; the only time to move and not feel pushed. The only happy time. Have an apple, feel it to the core. Wear a dress, and let the rain fall through it and the wind soak it so the clinging mocks your need to hold on, but still let go, and watch it tumble down your legs and mouth; cling to something far away, through dreams. Like flimsy cloth, you and I, like warmth and wind and rain, we can be. You and me. Or just me alone. Unrequited, clinging to the edge of the line where the rain starts, racing hearts, which will cross the line first? Who will win? It's the decision of my life, whether to walk into the rain or not. But it's the time that catches me against my watch, and so embarrassed, I let my hand catch the rain until it stops suddenly.
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 7:39 PM UTC
Summertime (stream of consciousness)
Nicotine soaked bedsheets Damply caressed by sweat, by tears Sooty black fingerprints, Like carbon coated breadcrumbs They leave a trail of sorrow... Resin coated bobby pins Cut straws and crystal dusted mirrors Nails gnawed down to the quick Bloodshot eyes, cracked lips Tired thoughts,     Hopes tossed,         Dreams shattered,               The                     pieces                            Lost.
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Pieces of Nightmares
Girl in white, Soon you will dream, I’ll try not to scream, As you go, into the light. You’ll smile and say, Now is the day, We’ll go far away, With our hands clasped so tight. I hope the sun decides to shine Through the drifting blinds, And the warmth will flow from your eyes to mine. The butterflies will mirror How your soul takes flight, As you ride that tall ship into the light. The perfume, It won’t fade As your last song, Is made, Your flowers will be laid On the earth, damply fresh. The stars will shine, and we’ll drink red wine, Your favourite lines, forever Etched, into our minds. The moths will be tied To your dress just outside, It’s a message to the world, The most sublime of signs. The ocean will whisper Secrets, throughout the night I’ll keep your candle burning, always bright. The books that we read, lying out on your bed Not a tear I’ll shed As the words, spin around, Buried deep in my heart. In them I’ll try to see Why death is free, You didn’t seem scared to me When the wind echoed ‘depart’. Your hair was intertwined As the petals aligned, A golden sweet glow, From your toes to your spine. I’ll sit here in the silence I know I am in your sight And when time takes me to you, I’ll alight.
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Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 6:57 AM UTC
Alone Into The Light
A reading of this poem is here: https://youtu.be/pAIgogKxcNA?list=PLBxu_QsDqWVXmIytZbwojqP6VwFcC5xeZ ___________________________________________________ He died that night. His chin a mesh of wet, broken asphalt, blood and glistening white flesh. What did you want? A quirky dialogue, a dose of fiction and science, a ******* poem Jesus! I said it glistened, didn’t I? Damply reflecting his solitary and meaningless life that he had built up to be something more something wonderfully significant This must be a pathetic assault on the indignity of the world It’s lack of acceptance for My total loneliness among the pattering drops and the dosed lights hazing and incomprehensible forted, feigning, but there A physical barrier that pretends to be. That’s kind of like the guy. How convenient! Are you following? The lights were the last thing he probably saw. but there in the peaceful death did he gasp one last word? A cliche. Is that better? An improvement upon self-referring, concept refraining, phrase like a sustaining note struck by a hammer struck by a white key struck by bone and flesh a resonation resigning to a precious exit, honoring the one thing he valued? Are we getting somewhere now? Did the alliterative foiled words help to unwrap the meaning of this poor ***** last breath? No. But I recall a gurgle followed by a splurch of blood and his eyes so fiercely clenched cowardly denying the wet moment as he died that night And I meant to leave the ****** apostrophe out This is art @Macbigicekeys
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Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
Inner Critic
A reading of this poem is here: https://youtu.be/pAIgogKxcNA?list=PLBxu_QsDqWVXmIytZbwojqP6VwFcC5xeZ ___________________________________________________ He died that night. His chin a mesh of wet, broken asphalt, blood and glistening white flesh. What did you want? A quirky dialogue, a dose of fiction and science, a ******* poem Jesus! I said it glistened, didn’t I? Damply reflecting his solitary and meaningless life that he had built up to be something more something wonderfully significant This must be a pathetic assault on the indignity of the world It’s lack of acceptance for My total loneliness among the pattering drops and the dosed lights hazing and incomprehensible forted, feigning, but there A physical barrier that pretends to be. That’s kind of like the guy. How convenient! Are you following? The lights were the last thing he probably saw. but there in the peaceful death did he gasp one last word? A cliche. Is that better? An improvement upon self-referring, concept refraining, phrase like a sustaining note struck by a hammer struck by a white key struck by bone and flesh a resonation resigning to a precious exit, honoring the one thing he valued? Are we getting somewhere now? Did the alliterative foiled words help to unwrap the meaning of this poor ***** last breath? No. But I recall a gurgle followed by a splurch of blood and his eyes so fiercely clenched cowardly denying the wet moment as he died that night And I meant to leave the ****** apostrophe out This is art @Macbigicekeys
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34
I have a fever dream Blank skin Blank skin, only a single layer thin damply wrinkles and pocked puckers ; I’m a delicate blister waterbed mattress No rest when I set my head The pain is a receiver in this dream I feel I’ve a full body wound The surface skim is a single reading of pain Any contact pulls the pain to that site A sudden breeze alone would do the trick The dream expresses vulnerability One nick One puncture on the opaque membrane And my innards would flood out I slip perilously on the tile floor My printless feet wipe from under me and / Woken up burning fever but go back to sleep In urgency I must.. Form porousness Found layers Cultivate hairs Bead natural oils Reclaim my fingerprints And get a grip All this before I fully awake I don’t want to suffer this state in the real world
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Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 8:54 PM UTC
fever repose
It's not there yet ...the shivering spout of ironclad misconceptions .... damply dipping ... dripping... n'whispering givens ... what might be said more then this ... and the echos left behind the rancid hallow chatter ? Codes of compromise and blameless banter ?  Some wonder long against the hour .....against sand filled eyes...so it is, with water salty measures... but not I... up to my knees, in the river ... I walk, moving further ....not there yet ..... shivering ...dripping.....sweet misgivings,  contrived from the stories told, about how I got there ... colder now.... night falls ... hours  shortened..... beyond the day ..... maybe even the scent of the dim lit haze... moving across the water, in waves....waves against the waist n' rock... something slips beneath the feet....a thought ... no tears for free.
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
The last baptisim
dry he wore the white dress though his hair curled damply we drew him we painted him he is taller now & remains much the same
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Oct 18, 2023
Oct 18, 2023 at 1:02 AM UTC
..dry..
Behind the scenes! I saw life at flicking fractured Where ultimate livelihood was freeze and captured Where dispirited Soul are Helpless Where her routine of hopes are surmise I saw feeble frivolous panther apart Daunting anti corruptions depart No watchful wary to assist From their flaws they desist Oh! What a bleakly bone of us Why we ain't nothing but a thang? There, they thought we are not anything Shall i shake hands with the Democrats At millions thee heartbeats I breathe the stinking sensation of sadness, As efferent emotions flows Thru highly elevated arteries to capillaries. There setting on the edge of one's seat. When shall we wake her Sleeping Mine? When shall her roar be featly dine When shall she dive matters without threat. When shall her daily headaches be heal What can we concealed without laughter at peril Our thoughts, our mental illness at oceans We have fight but our foughten freedom at the oceans Behind the scenes I'm seeing wariness of Darkness alarming I'm still touching the roughest depth of fierce As we trace the hardest parts of the jungle. At bounded bypass of gastric were splints Everything was cleanly clear from the truth TV Nothing can ever be hiding from the plaint Even the sparking bullet of The Champion TV Were shall our barking voice last Shall we woefully wrath at exile Fear no more, at last, the past Worrisome inevitably wine the tactile The valor of shame shall be color There they shine to sin There shall we mourns at min As those dreamed were damply **** At vapor I
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Mar 27, 2020
Mar 27, 2020 at 5:34 AM UTC
Behind the scenes!
Behind the scenes! I saw life at flicking fractured Where ultimate livelihood was freeze and captured Where dispirited Soul are Helpless Where her routine of hopes are surmise I saw feeble frivolous panther apart Daunting anti corruptions depart No watchful wary to assist From their flaws they desist Oh! What a bleakly bone of us Why we ain't nothing but a thang? There, they thought we are not anything Shall i shake hands with the Democrats At millions thee heartbeats I breathe the stinking sensation of sadness, As efferent emotions flows Thru highly elevated arteries to capillaries. There setting on the edge of one's seat. When shall we wake her Sleeping Mine? When shall her roar be featly dine When shall she dive matters without threat. When shall her daily headaches be heal What can we concealed without laughter at peril Our thoughts, our mental illness at oceans We have fight but our foughten freedom at the oceans Behind the scenes I'm seeing wariness of Darkness alarming I'm still touching the roughest depth of fierce As we trace the hardest parts of the jungle. At bounded bypass of gastric were splints Everything was cleanly clear from the truth TV Nothing can ever be hiding from the plaint Even the sparking bullet of The Champion TV Were shall our barking voice last Shall we woefully wrath at exile Fear no more, at last, the past Worrisome inevitably wine the tactile The valor of shame shall be color There they shine to sin There shall we mourns at min As those dreamed were damply **** At vapor I
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