Dillute poems on Hello Poetry

SG Holter May 2014

The Sound of Handfuls of Dirt and Pebbles Against an Empty Casket

There's room for your every
Blade between my ribs.
I have a thousand other
Cheeks to turn when

You need to fling
Frustration from the channels
Of your heart's palms.
I can take all your punches.

I am a statue to your weathers.
I am the sound of handfulls of
Dirt and pebbles against an empty
Casket. I can take out my every

Nerve, my heart, my pain centre
And place it in a pocket; take it
All back out when you need to
Dillute your tears with mine

Over some matter that weighs
Heavy on the hearts of little
Girls playing with big boys; falling
From swings designed for

Denser bones and hands rough
From climbing. I am the teddy
Bear missing an eye and a limb,
Exposing stuffing through seams

Torn from being dragged over
Stairs and through sandboxes,
Always a thump behind little legs
That carry love for it, unequal to

Any.

brooke Nov 2015

Shucked.

conversations with paul are a one
way street, an play in a single act
between himself and a shadow (me):

in which Actor tells Actress he loves
her and then watches as her feet burn
holes into the stage and sink beneath
the floorboards, while he dons purple
prose and begins to blame your fire
for the forests he's burned with
his hot breaths and angry manuscripts

and the guilt he peddles is contagious
it wets through your layers to dillute
your kindness, your sorries, your innate
empathy for people in pain and when
he's not here, he's whetting his words
and staking them in your soft soil
in the middle of the night while
you lay unaware but dream
that a thief sweeps through
your garden and uproots
the best and most purposeful
foilage, unguarded even by
the moonlight because
such a thing could not
disguise a lack of a
a person.

(c) Brooke Otto 2015

I'm not sure if this is complete.

Jowlough Oct 2012

Reality loop

Just when reality bites back,
your dreams will be snapped.
leaving you hopeless,
making your blur vision black.

makes your struggle,
wobble and spill,
slowly dillute in the edges,
you know you're headed for the ****.

Don't wait them to burst your bubble
through their hidden spells,
trouble is near,
when you're in the pits of hell.

Pay less attention,
Failure is inevitable.
Stay with your strengths,
shoot when you are able

As I puff my smoke,
and I think of your face.
reality bites back,
looped and disgraced

(c) Reality loop - jcjuatco 10.16.2012

Jake Killay Feb 2018

CQ

The space cadet needs a new face
It has to have fun
It needs to learn how to manipulate darkness
The new space cadet needs to spew evil out of its guitar and encourage the crowd to stomp it to death
The battle between good and evil was a thing of the 60s. The flower children say they 'fizzled out' but the truth is they lost.
Now its all covert.
Now we're spies
Undercover
The flower children's death gave birth to new factions
Star children, spider kids, the punks, etc.
I aspire to create a new faction because I see a lot of people around me who seem lost just like me but every band needs a frontman
Every faction needs someone on the front lines.
Someone so fed up that they snapped at the system. When you do that you need to be careful so you don't snap yourself. Your self confidence and your confidence in your cause must be unbreakable. You must confront the red seas unshaken and bare the brunt of the first blow. I'm not sure what I'm talking about yet but when I do you'll know it.
I suppose my sign will be the buck
All these factions work for the same organization. We are in your books. We're in your music. We're on your television. We're in your breakfast cereal.
God is dead and the devil lives in heaven. Forever working to dillute us.
We live in its illusion.
Jack is in the box.
The black iron prison.
I am recruiting.
I'm in trouble.
I need help.

#60s #spider #spiritual #war

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