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GreenTrees May 2015
Love with its picturesque mountain peaks
one finds oneself opening their hearts to the unending sky of dreams
Down to its deep fertile valleys
where we worked the soil with hardened hands
and perseverance of heart.
At the land's edges where waves of emotion lap against its jagged shores
we find tranquility in the sound of its crashing waves.
In the high deserts where life still abounds and its fragile existence yields to the windswept nature of chance.
In its open fields where our desires roam care free
to it’s densely wooded areas where we frolic in the beauty of its simplicity.
In its grandness we are but the migratory animals who seek it's bounty from season to season.
From it we are born and die but the land remains to remind us that love endures and it's beauty exists to teach us to adapt to all of its wondrous and various forms.


Copyright Karl v. 2015
For all the earth in the world,
For the varied chunks,
shapes and shades
of brown, keep an eye out!

There, somewhere in the dirt,
Next to the writhing worm,
Gasping at pockets of sunlight,
Green life ruminates, and
pushes, pushes up,
through the soil,
intrepid, unlikely.  
It abandons it's old husk house,
what little safety it knew,
and, daring to dream,
thrusts itself into existence,
and feels the day's cooling kiss,

a multi cellular masterpiece,
when yesterday, there was only
dirt.
September Roses Sep 2018
Come see me
9 PM this Friday
In a park near you!

Come watch me eat ḋ̸̻̺̗͙̤͕̦͂̄̓̽̊̋͗i̴̡̛̙̯̗̠͇͉̼̲̻̅̊̃̍̆͞r̸͚̼̣͔̜̟̬̰͂̽̆̿̏͋̓̕͟͡͞t̄̍̈̃̆̕͘­͗ by the mouthful at the swing set.
Come see me scream till your ears b̨̩̫͕̘̊͊̉̾͛̍́̀͞l̤̺̫̰̘͎͉̓̅̌͐̀͜͢ͅe̡̙͚̟̯͙͕̖̾͌̽͐̀͊̓̌̒͜ḝ̰̙̱̯̻̘̈́͗̌̀͞͞­̬̥d̨̡̟̪̟̗̼͍͓̓́̈̍̊̇̿͋̅͢͞ as I slide down the biggest slides.
Enjoy my one man play reenacting the Silence of the Lambs!
(Your ķ͖̠͙̫̗̣͒̊͆̾̎̽̃̈͘ǐ̷̧̛͍̦̟̜͙̥͎̔̄̽̾͢d̡̡̮̗̜̻̱̮̼̊͒̈́̓̔̊̊͒͌͜s̤͉̈̆̓͗̾̓̅͢­̴̲̜̖̻ will love that one)

Stand and applaud as I attempt dangerouse ş̵͇̲̗͒͋͐̅̚͝ͅt̸̨͙̣̰̬̩̱̥̝͒̓̀̓̏̏̓͘͠ų̷̢̨̥͓͕̉́͑̿̕͢͝ņ̸͓̱͚͈̭̣̬̘̀͑͗͊̆ͅ­t̶̨͇̝̻͍͉̼̎̓͟͠͝͠s̴̡̧̗̹̰̩̘͇̤̈́̽͛̊͐͟ off the jungle gym that I have only seen In Hollywood movies!

Watch me .
p̝̞̖̳̪̮̫͙̅̋̉̄͐͆̔̆̔̿ę̺͔̘̭̺̲̫̐̅̀̿̓͢͟ẽ̷̗͔͍̬͔͗̇͊͛̽̓͘͜͜l̟̇̔̂͗̓́͠͡͝­̧̬͎̗͙̫͎͟ off my s̷̫̰̜̤̠̿̆̎͋̕͟͜͠k̴̢͔͔̳̬̻͗͑̀̌͂͐̔͑̊ͅi̷͓͖͉͚͚̠̝̙̝͌͊̄̀̏͊̑͝͡ͅṋ̻͙̇̽̈́͋̄̔͡­̧̩̜, and use my wet muscles as lubricant to make the roundabout go faster!

Watch me dunk your neighbors dogs s̴̢̨̘͎͉̪̪̦͚̄͋̃͛̊̆̀̓͘̕ȩ̧͎͈̀̀͒͋́̐͟͠v̸̦͚̠͕̏̂̎̔̀̊͆͢͝͞e̡̳̠̺̠̟͇͂͛͗͋̍͑͢­ŗ̢̦͎̮͉͕͍̊̐̓̂͛̽̒̄͒͗e̗̩͚͖̫͋̄͟͡͠͞ḍ̴̢̲͔͖̣̪̾͌͗̀̒̄̄͞ head in the basketball hoop!
For the f̫̺̰̜̘̺̩̳̝̖̒̊̃͒̀̇͐̓͡ṵ̸̩͙̼̮͓̦͋̓͆̈̕͟͠ǹ̻̰̣̼͙̰̀͐̎͛̀̈́͞ of it!                  

Have you ever seen a rat with no              
    f̵̢̣̘̦̱͚̟̟̱̀̏́͐́̍̄̚i̵̢̢͎̺̘͚̿͒̐̈́̀̓̌̚n̛͙̟̦̟͕̩͒̌̍͑g̢̰͕̤̝͑̏̅̆̕e͐­̸̡̢͈̥͓͉̊̋͑̀r̛̩͔̻̩̮̱͆̒̽͆͋̚ṡ̸̛̛͎͕̯̳̻͙̏͘͝?             
     
Would you l̨̛̦̟͎͇̲̼̦̱̠̓̀́̇̏̀į̧͎̭̫͓̮̫̮̌͆̎̐̀̽̎͌̚k̴̭̼̥̱͖̃̽̎͒͋̅́͠e̹̟͆͑̅̅͌͗̀̀͟͠­͖̩̱̰̬̯ to?!

Come one come all,                                  
to something, entirely new!        

Enjoy something.... .
.
R̴̛͕̺̝̜͔̈́͋͑͒̎͆̏̓̒͜Ā͙̻͚̗͌́̃͂̊̈͗̚͞ͅW̶̙̻̰͙̹̲̗̆͋̈̇̓͜
.
.!
.
.
I̵̖̬̘͔̻̹̜̫͊̂͌̓̽ a̴̧̢̱͇͚̭̹̞̅͂̄̌͒͝͠m̧̗̜͍̥͙̦͈͍̐̉̔͛̍͒̌ t̸̮̪̹̺̥͈͈̯͂̔͊̅͢͞ḩ̶̧̮̠̺͉̱͈̣͛̾̊̚̚̚ḙ̴̫̬͕͍͔̯̝̐̾͑͆͘ͅ ĉ̳̝̟̙̦̏́̈͆̊́͑̽͡i̜̮͔͕͓̐̑̇̂̎͑͑r̻̝̩͔̫̮̩̽͑̍̈́̈́͛͌̕c̶̰̱̥͚͕̻͗͊̂̊͗̑̏͌̚͜ļ̶̨̯̪̲̣̑̒͛̿̎̓̾͢͢͠ȩ̧̩͇̻̦̩͓̱̿̃̊̇̐̀͗̔̚ ą̨̦͔̼̘̘̔̉̓͒̃̐̎̍̕n͓͚͖̠̭͉̱̦̋̊́̋̀̅̕d̢̥̖̯͈̠̜̑̈̇͊̾̆̈͟͝ t̷̨̧̡̙̤̮̞̮͕̔͗́̾͒ḩ̵̙͇͈́̄͐̊̓̀̈́͒̌̎͢e̸̡̘̠͔̪͂̎̓̏͑̈́͘ c̶̨̧̟̱̜̘̊̌́̀͘͞ǐ̴̲̫̙̼̟̮̎̔̀̑̂̽͜͠͡ͅr̯̟͙̩̋̊͐͂̇͟c̵̬̫̲̰̱͔̯͓̘̀̃̅͊̀͋͘͜͡l̛̪̯̬̙̙̠̗̐̉͌̃̒̔̔͘͢ͅě̜̘̫̗̰̇̏̌̊̒́̕̕͟͝ͅ į̛̟͇̜̰͓̤͆̐̊̓͗͌̚ŝ̨̨̛̭̠̐̈̌̑̇̌͢͠͞ ṃ̶̯͎̲̝͎̥̽̿̔̈̀̚͞ẻ̛̻̙̪͚̣̘̺̮͛́̽͘͟
.
.

might remove this soon
It's a little tame
KM Hanslik Jul 2018
Keep your eyes soft and your dreams
up on the highest shelf so you won't take them down too early;
keep everything that you spill in the dark locked
behind your teeth during the day, don't bring it out before dusk;
like secrets we drip over sidewalk cracks
from cotton-candy sticky fingers and leave our names
dissolved under each other's tongues, the warmth of you is keeping me company
as I try to crawl out of my blood again, they told you to leave
a bread-crumb trail in case your heart becomes too watered down by just visiting
to even remember the vacation at all; you carry
kisses on the knuckles of amputated arms,
driving through parking lots with your seatbelts on,
collections of constellations growing
in the bruises on the insides of your thighs, reminders
of salt & the whites of your eyes;

I'll always carry you around
like scuffed knees and the last time I told you "I'm okay",
I wanna press my fingers into you until your skin is melded
with fire and scraps of things that I could never be,
I hope steel rods grow out of your bones and I hope you gather
bruises before you gather dust,
we are all a little lost and lonely but that never stopped
the accumulation of well-spent nights
coughing up new ways to spell my name
(it sounded foreign before you)
leave this on repeat,
we're going in again.
I cannot see the end in front of me?

How...

WHAT THE **** IS GOING ON!?

Something about two buckets of soil...

GO NOW!
GO NOW!

Go ...now,

How does the Seer work?

Do You
See?

AMC

Vikings

I

see

Why are my skinned eyes?

...crows, crows, crows, crows

Messages
Rafael Melendez May 2017
As I visualized people in my mind, and wondered,"Who are you?"
I felt a real person within my existence. I felt like a real person even if only for a moment, I felt like one of the others, one of the ones I imagine.
Yet, it's fleeting, it only comes when I feel the deepest sadness, when the rawness of this perception throws me into the ground, gets dirt in my eye.

She is in so much pain, and I can't do a **** thing because I am not real.
Ironically, probably one of the most realistic things I've ever written.
awknight Aug 2018
Take your shovel
shield the light
it burns my skin.

You have unearthed me
when I did not know
I was buried.

Internal sufferings
my home
now brought into

open air.

writhing.

my lashes bleed in fear
I escape — away from myself
the warmth reminds me

my scars shine in the sun

cover me, until I understand.
we all have our demons, but I finally dont have to deal with them alone...
H3L3 Nov 2016
Dear Sister, you chose to leave.
You let me grieve upon loss.
You let me put myself last and yourself first.
You let me worry when I shouldn't.
You let me cry for you.
You let me get angry.
You let me feel pain.
You let me feel anxious.
You let.. you didn't let me do anything.
I chose to be the one to do that for you. To feel that with you.
You decided to take that for granted, and for that.. I owe you nothing.
I don't owe you a place to stay.
I don't owe you my love.
I don't owe you kindness.
I don't owe you anything.
Nobody owes you their time of day.
Nobody owes you the physical items you hold in your hand.
So why go around treating everyone like dirt?
To make the people that care about you suffer.
If it's to make yourself feel better, then I hope you feel worse.
To my.. *dear* sister.
I'm grinding
and the dirt
I'm grinding
and the dirt
I'm grinding
and the dirt


And I don't
understand?

I DON'T UNDERSTAND.

please help me,


"The clawed hand is not for shaking,
although it has amazing grip."
-zₑᵤₛ



"Eat a pork shoulder
dusted in granite powder...
dash of cumen, a salty pinch
you'll get over it."
-ᴾᵉˡᵒᵖˢ

                                                  

    ­                                              "He is a porky one isn't she?" -ᴱʳᶦˢ




Betty, uh, Ms. Page,
didn't it bother you?

"Bother me?"

Well you know,
being a person of God,
-doing those things for money?

"Silly, I do what I do
BECAUSE I AM a believer!"
-ᴮᵉᵗᵗʸ ᴾᵃᵍᵉ
GreenTrees Jan 25
No matter how high we soar.

It starts from a place on the ground.




Karl V.  2019
humble
Outside Words Oct 2018
A Capitalist
burns each day shoveling dirt;
paid to dig his grave
© Outside Words
MJL Feb 23
Diseased turnip
Rooting in the dirt
Rotting fodder
Unpicked
Untapped
Gnarled and bitter
Lying under your bridge
When you are gone
No-one will miss your rancid rag


© 2019 MJL
Sanjali Feb 2018
7
-A Branch Above-

I fell down in a mad passion,
I wasn't shooting for the stars.
What I was, I forgot,
For I knew
To be free I had to pull apart.

My bittersweet love laid with the grass
And I on a branch above.
'What do we know of the world?'
I asked and asked,
When my love's last smile unfurled.

I fell down into another world,
I never wanted to reach the stars.
I finally let myself crumble in dirt,
Oh the joy!
I couldn't tell you if you asked.
mark john junor Dec 2016
a desolate bargain
all my dead days with a
crown of thorns
for a single gesture of warmth

all my days
as her silent saint of persecuted tears
my fireside midnight in the comforting
company of what appeared to be angel
their dead languages ring true to
my long deceased heart

feel light as a feather
like the wind itself come to tear
my very soul from the mortal soil of
this unforgiving life

from my burying ground
seen a burning light cresting the east
burned with a silent majesty
an unspoken glory come to lift
my eyes from these dark workings
heard an old man with a child's voice
telling wasn't my crown of thorns to wear
wasn't angles but shadows
come to keep the midnight watch with me

still a saint of her persecuted tears
now that the full weight of
this mortal dirt soul
hangs upon me like a corpse
all the living done wasted away
Loser Feb 27
While dirt piled beneath my nails I clawed at your grave all night,
breaking my back until your blackened and dismantling coffin was in sight.

The weeds circling your tomb stone danced without appearing mundane,
as the freezing wind called to you, howling out your name.

I pried open your wooden door that had been etched with two dates,
and I knew that what had happened to you would soon be both our fates.

I thought back to the day when I found out you took your life,
and with hopes of mimicking you in sorrow, I keep a gun to my side.

Slowly I crawled in next to you, with just enough room for two,
and I looked up beyond the trees and saw a sky painted dark blue.

And in this moment at last, I felt completed by your side,
then I shut the door, pulled the trigger, and never said goodbye.
MJL Feb 19
Trapped
Muddy doors shut
Alligator mess nipping
Confined dirt bubble
Air taint
B. O.
Stale fries
****-tox-icity
Sanitizer plans
Stabber-jibber-jabber
You expect a tip
We have different tips in mind
Spicy no-star to go
Uber sad
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I'm in love with a man I know not to love
his heart will never be free.
I waste my days
a slave to his ways-
knowing he will never love me.

He is the secret I can never reveal
the best lover I ever have known.
I've nothing to give
but my body.....it's his-
fresh dirt for him to bury his bone.

Hopelessly hooked on him like a drug
wanting him day and night.
I play his ***** game
I have no shame-
taking it all, knuckles white.

Dead is the conscience I knew so well
and morals.....they ran far away.
Clarity now blurry
in a love-drunk slurry-
the 'good me' has gone astray.

To lay with him is playing with fire,
the flames, they burn me alive.
Leaving me marred,
hurting and scarred-
the pain on which I thrive.

A fool for punishment, I beg for more
even if all I am worthy of is ****.
Loving him breaks me...
it overtakes me-
but I'm not willing to quit.

I die a little more each passing day
until again, I get lost in those eyes....
All doubts go away,
so for now I'll stay
living this life of lies.
You can't always help who you fall in love with...
Andrew Aug 2017
***** is the only language I know
Burning brightens anguish that grows
Like the blinding light the sun shows
A star providing life
While simultaneously burning me
As I dream of turning free
Floating here I sail a sea
Of words that hurt
And kick up dirt
Of actions that keep stacking
Of factions that keep attacking
Of agency that I'm lacking
To change any of these things
Or the sorrow they bring

The sun's assault through trees
Scorches the dirt off of me
In a world on fire
Incinerators are the cleanest places
In a hateful empire
Interpreters are unwelcome faces
And we continue to count the paces
Until we master mudslides
And we continue to erase the traces
Of our humanity under dirt

We live in this sandstorm
Brought by man's scorn
We attempt to grow corn
But the dusty fields remain barren
When the sun that used to activate photosynthesis
Now burns all the young seeds to a crisp
The seeds are now manufactured
As people wait for the rapture
Unable to see salvation starts here on Earth
And it starts with us cleaning up dirt
CK Baker Oct 2017
dust cloud heavy
in an apricot sky
cottonwood mucker
under ambrose pale
whippet and shepherd
mill at the earth patch
yellow birch hangs
over red bench park

combine shavings
in crack rust brown
scissors chips
fall to the back stop
whiskey jack looters
sing patented chords
siblings (and 2 wheel enthusiasts)
give thanks

joyous retrievers
master the criss cross
bare maples stand
at settlers way
barred owl and blue jay
whistle the fore-wind
ghosts
and goblins
pull at the seeds

wind gusts belt
over the west gulch
blood rush churns
in a chilling fall morn
hallowed grounds still
at the midday
quiet reflections
of the afghan
and hound

jumpers unite
at the oxbow
route runners bend
(on a sultry foray!)
meadows exposed
in the framework
ball park empty
with pennants past

barrel dirt favors
the brew house
crimson and copper
find bracken ridge gate
harvest hands savor
the honey and hops
blankets of color
for a winter's hatch

brush fire kept
under steady peruse
bark bites fly
and embers glow
pine cones drop
from timber tops
3 wick candles
set the dinner place

shiver and ******
at the piper's call
cob web dew
on shadowy gates
a chilled mist mellows
the season's return ~
poets and artists
and dreamers awake
nat Jan 30
bathed myself in bleach
and scrubbed my skin with rubbing alcohol
when i light myself on fire
i feel somewhat better
and i have swept the kitchen floor a lot
almost obsessively
but when i walk around i still feel dirt on the bottom of my feet
i am surprised i still have the ability to feel anything
i tried drinking gasoline and licking flames
like megan fox in jennifer's body but
i am a freak and a coward so things didn't work out
still, i am used to disappointment
and i am used to hating myself
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Foot meets the metal of a cold shovel
with a sun beaming down
booted foot pushes the *****
into the soft and rooty ground

one mound of dirt
sweat forms above the brow
two mounds of dirt
salty bead slithers down
three mounds of dirt
tuned into the sounds
four mounds of dirt
birds chirp all around

stopped by a thick root
extra force must be used
give that shovel a pogo of boots
and we are at the fifth mound

six and seven are easy
as the hole starts to round
eight nine ten eleven twelve
a tomb has been found

carried your sheet covered corpse
laid you in the hole
cover you with what was uncovered
creating a man made knoll

Six years of memories
laid underneath this red dirt
many years missing
that time gone subvert
writerReader Feb 2015
i am watching life and
it's running so fast and

it goes up toward the
pure white stars and
the brown dirt

the blue sky

the black night

but i'm melting
burning
freezing

my mind is too tired to sleep
but it's too drunk to run.
Sholiver Apr 17
Like dirt under my fingernails
Unclean and filthy
Changing how I feel about myself
And how others think of me
No matter how hard I scrub
No matter how hard I clean
It doesn't matter
Because new dirt always appears
And people will always talk
Why do people like gossip? It has never done anything for anyone, it only hurts and destroys.
patty m Nov 2017
Sharp evening birds shadow the sun
setting across the water;
in dreams the ocean
comes to full river.
Many times we've climbed this bridge
weeds changing the color of the water,
stirring glints of conversation
the uplift in the veins
beating a flight to autumn.

I hear your string of broken bird call
raucous and wild
as years turn it to echo;
Startling paleness
a reverie of winter's chill
how boneless is bird flight.
the solace of wings.
                    
Now there is only one
                                      where once there were two.  

          clipped wings
          the imprint of fossils
          the rain's guilty tones
          smearing the dirt

Planks wobble,
                            set as they are
                                                    haphazard­, uneven.

Now there's a blur of impressions,
                                  the nonsensical strings in a litany of sound
                                                           ­                                 
Today,
. . . reflecting on  you,
I walk this bridge alone, touching air no one else can see,
                 one step at a time,
                                           learning to be ME.
Ariel Jan 2018
This castle of clay is all that remains
Of my empire of sand and glass
I can't explain this unwavering pain
Since you went away
My hands hurt.
The constant migraine of your lost face
Is with me to this day

My hands hurt.
They keep me awake
I cannot take a moment's rest
I must remain, to defend.
Here I stand, in the sand
Against the rain
Against the pain you have left
My castle of clay is all that remains
And I will try to save it to my last breath

My hands hurt.
In the end
All that you spent
Was the love that I freely gave
Surrounded by the dead
I am spent
Like the soldiers you did not send
Save me now,
Don't let me drown here in the rain.

My hands hurt.
The scars you left
Have never changed
It's still an open wound
Standing here defending my land
Protecting my empire of dirt.
Defending my castles of sand and glass.
Still here rebuilding my empire of dirt.
Until the day
(Oh, that blessed day!)
Until the day that my hands
Will no longer
Hurt.
I was inspired by one of the scenes in Logan and by the comic Old Man Logan to create a little diddy that might be Wolverine's anthem as he grows older and the number he's lost increases. Shout out to Hugh Jackman for being such an incredible Wolverine, you will always be my favorite!!
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