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yv Jul 2018
I guess I got too used to
how you used to use me
that I didn't notice
when you stopped needing me

I guess I was stupid
for thinking that you loved me
but all you did was take advantage of me

I guess I'll just keep guessing
on what I did wrong
or where it went wrong

And I guess all I can say
is that ******* for ruining me
'cause I really did love you
K Balachandran Jul 2018
A coconut grove
With one tall wind turbine.
The wind blows amused!
Kiva Beth Oct 2017
Once it started opening up,
Like a wound, the pearl sheen of skin
deepening into a red
As rare as the perfect rose
And just as treasured.

Bones dense around my heart
And lock themselves in place.
Stifling the voice - two beats -
The third one silent.

The fourth,
The fifth,
The third.

You are my arms outreached but selfish,
Hands open but stiff,
Palms red.
Anya Sep 2018
He called me dense
It still sticks to me
Not because
I'm hurt
or anything

But because,
I find it funny
I don't think I am
I do notice things around me

Honestly though,
half the time
it's a real pain to be
aware of everything

I know what I need to
I focus on what I deem important

Yet...maybe my lack of societal awareness
has dubbed me dense?

I certainly do sport a happy go lucky attitude
Often childish
Book smart,
but often confused
seeming
And I certainly do have
the annoying habit of people pleasing
while being shy
and diffident
at times

It's funny
I almost feel smarter with myself
When I'm with others
self-consciousness
self-doubt
social anxiety
naturally takes hold

It sometimes places me
in the role of under dog
Or is it dark horse?
The one,
who surprisingly pulls through
Surprisingly,
has abilities

I'm a little bit like a wave I suppose
On a stormy night
Lashing this way and that
as I please
Sometimes broken down
other times mowing my way through

So, maybe I am dense
Maybe I'm not
I don't know

Life...
can be described by many adjectives
But, let me keep mowing through
On my own merry way
Chugging like,
as my little brother would say,
A chu chu train
Scurry hurry
Shaking hands shaped by worry
tie the knot of plastic
A bubble home for the hard green cup
where brown and white
mixed lay married.

Wash rush
Dainty legs in dark blue denim
hasn't time to be romantic
A worn out sister played by hope
shuts the door panting.

  It clings to a robust tree
  head hidden under rosy pink    
  protective shield
  edged in yellow

  The fireflies

  
Sticky webs of empty lies packaged in boxes of deception by the wizard that doesn't work
sit dead on the small bedside table
like the results they provide.

Boxes and boxes of cozy containers
and cards of capsules
47 I counted them
current and extras
They choke my sight
then I am groped by the smooth blue robes worn by the youthful shepherd
posing aside a grey rock looking yonder
into the distance as insta-natural as possible in a pastel painted picture framed in wood against the wall.
  
  Unstable molecules in tiny airtubes,  
  many, breakdown and explode
  like little landmines
  A bio-luminescent lit ***** assaults a  
  dense night flashing brilliant
  to find a mate
  Six strong neon-green throbbing blinks
  Six slow seconds of unimaginable
  wordless dreamless dark.

  are bright.

  
I turn my head
The whole unsettling mass of reality
is torn apart into vibrant colorful morsels,
then reassembled
as my eyes  
settle
on

Her

"Oh God, if you're here, heal her now
and you'll have me. Show me what those confident tongues so eagerly confess.
Please!"

NOTHING
Another sticky empty square
covered in thick black-strap molasses
slapped to the face of the fool
who likes sweet things.

BUT

What happened to the omni-this, omni-that CEO of God enterprises?
"Go on Death" is what that means
"Go on Death do your job" is what it does

"It's your time.
It's to test your faith.
Gods plan."
All slogans for the man
who believes and dies.
  Culture creates the fool
  Hope keeps the fool
  Belief kills the fool
Thanks for doing what all those boxes
and all the pictures
on all the walls of the world do

FOOL

Her face,
a gaunt kind of skin-to-bone sight
a bad flavor
like a meal with no taste

Her mouth,
crack-lipped, framed by dry
delivers deadly blows to a heaving chest
that says; "Give me air"
yet lungs say no

Anguish,
is ****** from the pit of my cold stomach
then up through the spirit of a warm heart
I plaster the feeling in the shape of water.
My eyes puddle

I weep

It sticks

Love,

Falls

Fluttering as a twinkle
through soft beams of sunlight,
the drop glistens
plops
then dies
on the pink and blue checkered blanket.

All I have to offer are busky palms
to soothe this battered body
before you are torn apart by what
puts things like us together.

I swallow her frame

Her calf - bone

Squeeze and move

Her thigh,
my hand wraps completely
pinching a sausage sized piece of muscle
not big enough to walk
between plump thumb
and meaty middle

Squeeze and move

Her hip bone is angular
It fits flush in my hand
like the hard front peak of a cricket cap
when held above the grid

Squeeze and move

My chunky tentacles massage over
wire-thin barely blue throbless veins
that decorate her meatless paws
and twig-like fingers.

Squeeze and move
  
  It's after midnight
  Thick curds of desperation push
  again, through a splendid backside
  a special toosh
  slogging a dancing night-fever
  to beat the two-to-four,
  a beam as bright as a green day
  cuts through the black pitch of night

  

I hold her hand
A thin filling between two slices of mine
I look at her eyes and turn away

Have you ever been pulled from the center of  your heart, ripped head first through the narrow crack of your own chest, tossed aside like a skin-sheet onto a concrete glass-covered floor then squashed beneath the majesty of a billion dancing floor-clapping feet attached to a shapeless void shapeshifting as slideshows  between all things gone, here, and still to come, stopping on the body of a small blue boy that sings in ghostly echo;
"Don't turn away from this.
Look till you see me through the eyes of another because this too
will happen to you
Clap clap clap clap!
I'm coming for you.

Trapped in a square tunnel made of brick, walls wide enough for one bus no brakes to speed through, no escape,
I accept what will squash me
I Face it
I Stand before it

I stare at her eyes staring back at me
A deep dagger stare
Two parts steel
meshed
until there is only steel
It melts

I simmer the room in soft whisper;
"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay."
I hold her hand,
patting the top as I warm the bottom
I smile for her, at me
I smile back, as me
  
  A skillful mimic
  Here I come
  I have light and breath
  I see yours
  I come at night
  Not for genes or ***
  I hunt and gut
  Hawking down I come as death

  
The gaps between her labored breaths become bigger and for a second I drift at the sight reappearing on the sandy dunes of an empty dessert space pushed by a dying wind I can barely feel.

A sharp salty tang toils the tip of my tongue and brings me back to her.

Her eyes

They have changed

Open

But

Soul

   less

     Soulless

     Desolate

   Like

That dessert

And that place where


*The Fireflies Lose their Light
say goodbye to the bucolic summer
the rafts of winter are upon the banks of your desire
please placate the wild streets of abandonment
let the edges of your neediness
take you into independence
i am less dense than a fly
and more round than the sky
i am a shade too dry for some people's liking
are you wanting a more permanent vacation
the icing on the cake is the real equation
immediate desires all forsaken
our love is worth practicing non-anticipation for
if you kiss me now i’ll be forever liberated
if you show me how
i’ll take you to the 9th dimension
seventeen floors above the world
and we are standing on
an indefinite embankment
i am intimidated by your perspicacity
as the persimmon sun sets upon the horizon
DSD Oct 2018
All year long
I procrastinate
until the cold
December air
is dense with the cries
of these neglected tasks

But the beginning
of a new year is light.
So much room
to push stuff back
to a later date.
A perfect time to write.
"I Think I Love You"

So swiftly these words, these human words
(so dense in Nature),
Ensconced--in a language,
Made an escape,
through those scrumptious lips of yours.
Not realising,
that these beautiful-eloquent words,
You doled out so uninhibitedly(in a single breath),
Had rolled themselves up,
And breached,
My opaque atmosphere
in the form of a meteorite;
Colliding with this surface,
and Cratering
this isolated heart;
Which
shall be forever visible
within the Cosmos--
of my eyes,
Which shall hence be named after your vivacious soul,
Which shall indelibly be located within the latitudes and longitudes
of Earth's time;
And,
Always be scouted--
by telescopes of ephemeral Love.
Whistling speeds my mind seems so clear
A dream with a beat echoing throughout my ears
My bones are dense yet my skin has been tattered
speak another word to me and expect ones heart to be shattered
To come and to go seems to be a reasonable thing
So leave your child alone and watch their life start crumbling
atptla Mar 2018
Walking lamely under a red sun,
Carved eyes and a faded skin, trying to run.
Twisted his fingers, removed his nails,
Hoping to be safe behind veils.

His skin had clung on his bones,
A non-aesthetic convulsion knitted by groans.
Escaping from shadows keeping a dusty pledge,
A deadly hunt dragging him into delirium's edge

Started to fill him up, anger and grudge,
He lost the faculty to judge.
With pain, opened his stitched mouth,
But knew that he was not allowed.

Tasted a dense sulfur while breathing,
And his vermillion blood began bleeding.
His sickly skin felt the soothing warmth,
A mild breeze came from north.

Became evident, shadows' faces,
He could see their stitching traces.
With a smile, wailful but silent and relieved,
Embraced his end that already conceived.
Pyrrha Oct 2018
Past thick briers and dense thickets
Beyond inconsolable oceans and insufferable lakes
Amidst the roar of obstreperous winds
Within the abyss of calamity
I've let you past my obscurities into the forest of my heart

In return you promised your own so our forests would grow
Instead you left the seeds of hatred that grew amongst my trees
You used me as an exploit for your own selfish endeavors
Our love was made of rot and mold
The passion expired and you were gone

You left me to swim my way back
To climb past my briers and thickets
To bear the violent winds
To climb out of the dark abyss
So that I may find myself once again in clutters of debris
Spread out across the shores of what remains of me
Harley Oliver Jan 2015
the rain is dense
& the day becomes faint
no time to count the roses
or the stir up my spine
it feels like february
from where i'm sitting
when my hair comes down
and your words get shorter
take off your suit
and tie me down
******* adrenaline
it's heavy on my tongue.
seven minutes in heaven
with kisses that linger for hours
and when i feel the sun
set on my back
i knew this moment
would never last
it's a day overgrown
if the rain runs out
and wakes us unrested
so put your car on drive
& bind back your tie
i want to kiss you now
but that won't ever mean goodbye
Nobody Sep 2017
You rudely wander into my conversation,
but you’re not an expert and you can’t offend me.
You try to get your dense views to control me,
It’s funny, like your shallow opinions affect me.

You’re unskilled in seeing real objectives,
so you try and censor me while I speak.
You’re a fool waiting on the wrong block,
I’m far from delicate or weak.

My words will ruffle your feathers,
you’ll be shocked by the way I behave.
Then you’ll try to crush my passion,
or think you can badger it away.

You’ll soon learn I’m not an easy target,
my brazenness is here to stay.
My strong will won’t be corrupted,
I was born standing up and unafraid.
"Can I see you yesterday?"
Kisses fall like painter's snow
On oil laced canvases of grey
On brillant blue.
"Can I see you a week ago?"
Lips on lips and breath on breath
Sunlight picks up the autumn glow
On satin skin.
"Can I see you a month before?"
Hands entwine in summer blaze
Tingling sweat trickles slow
On breast pressed
"A year, can I see you a year past?"
Springing florals dense damp earth
Neck stretched filled with scent
On nibbled kiss
Brown eyes to brown eyes
Time on time
Tell me you're mine
"I'm yours."
My usual question, "when can I see you again?" I rephrased, "when do you want to see me again?"
Eric Babsy Oct 2018
Did God not make love vain in the first place?
Stolen my wings; my sacred space.

Did God not lie to us all?
To say together we fall.

Can we have time?
Because peace can only appease my rhyme.

What is with people today?
We act in our subconscious away from the fray.

Can someone just make sense?
Because what does not makes the world tense.

Only sticking around because I am a known freak.
To women I am not sheik.

Can someone just make sense?
Because this world seems dense.

Will I succumb to my fear?
Because away from this world I wish I could disappear.

People are starting to swerve as they steer.
What is wrong with people today I said with no fear.
Left Foot Poet May 2018
human revelations in our sleep poses

she sleeps with both arms back, murmuring,
  flung over her hearing head,
as if she is surrendering

nightly

me slip away for a few, only to find  
her left hand ****** by her arm crook'd,
fit to her temple, as if to bear the weighty weight
of a heavy head plein des thoughts, dream-mares, tales and talks,
too dense to contemplate
without assistance,
armed support to hold on, hold up,
fighting/ accepting as a unwanted outcomes
or retrying old misdeeds
(no, no, oops, that’s me)

stirring,
she swift motions/crisscrosses her arms into an X,
a human parts tiara atop, on blond tresses, that fully messes
any remaining daytime efforts and her nighttime wild dancing^

no one reveals me,
none inform on me what positions
my containership adapts, adopts when my woke-guards
are dismissed/released and
lay unprepared to disguise my innermosts exposures

ow, early am resting comfortable with a six poem-pack of
slept hours on my tool belt,
so far this weekend one shot fired before the day officially
is belle rung and these poses thoughts
are upon what my eyes alight

can’t decide if knowing how I dance in the bed at night,
reflationary, deflationary, worth fact facing,
for this is no secret

my sleep hours are colored,
admixture of moving pictures,
punctuated with
stills of past and future,
the poses
of how to greet, were greeted,
withstood upheld ran from wept, murdered,
faced up, faced down, go unrecorded
and the
poems residuals
and the
poem prophesying-
both!

fearful confessions for acts
committed and foretold


Decision: I don’t want to know
7/20/18 7:08am

^(tango-ing with both, familiar and the unexpected men
who are she-allowed to lead for few minutes,
her cover up pose
expertly rigidly flexible, but her head thrown back to say
this is how far you will be allotted, allowed to dance/take me)
Marília Galvão Sep 2015
"The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable."

Invasive?
Doesn't a deep gaze carry
numerous hooks disguised as unpretentious interrogation marks?
They're faster than the blink of the eyelids,
ambitiously break into the one in front,
stealing something
not for sale in the first place.

But, you just wanted to know
...just wanted to know that sparkling little piece of life behind the curtains of the iris
Then you suddenly find yourself apologizing
It was not your intention to set your noxious questions free,
hooks of someone else's life

Vulnerable?
You smell the eyes in front of you,
You see they can effortlessly listen to your thoughts, which have been screaming anyway, from the windows, of your soul.
Even those ignored little parts insist on showing off

You can almost physically feel it,
streams of dense water travelling
from the very core of your cells,
going up your veins,
holding your breath for a second when passing through your throat,
until it finally reaches your pupils' edge,
where they can bluster it out
and it's gone!
You're left with the hope
that the eyes in front of you haven't seen the spectacle.
concept from http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com
M Solav Jul 14
We live on the ripples of a beating heart
Sailing wide across a great black sea
Each pulses like falling raindrops
As we drift on the surface of destiny

We know the struggles and the storms to come
Foundations the turmoils of passing winds
Are scattering on our way towards the sun
Were raised by none but the breathe of our will

We become landscapes the further we are drawn
Cold mountains, dense forests, oceans and such,
On our carved existence all promise to be found
As we roam from mood to mood, from thought to thought

We understand at last what the touch reconciles
When we start to realize what we had always known
That the world was always ours, and it dawns on our mind
That the rainfall had stopped while we’ve landed home
Written in June 2019 - for an exhibition in Peking.
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