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Bellissima May 27
Through creaking doors
walk my ideas of people.
Cracked frames, bent and sullen.
Groaning hinges, bones
bruised and rusted.
Joanna Jun 16
Riverboat moving down the line, seems you’ve stopped at my door just one too many times.

Take your package of anger and too much pain, so that I can make love and peace my only gain.

For this time I know the beginning, from the end, and I refuse the confusion you create within.

So riverboat of pressure and untamed blues, move on down and find someone else to woo.
The mind that is switched by a new experience, can never go back to its old dimensions. (Oliver Holmes)
CK Baker Dec 2016
It’s all you’ve ever seen
in a midnight’s dream
the zero sum games
and exorcised demons
asinine plunges
on tunkwa brides
phantom fingers cradling
the ragged red dress

shadow hands
clasp at the floodgates
lava fields boil
through scorched amber veins
needles pierce
the look out
where flames dance wildly
over boneyard grounds

deep red pedestals
behind bleeding walls
empty halls and doorways
throughout the sinful nest
bulging eyes and blood rush
in a dark crimson sky
a funeral, before I die
this is a depth bomb cutting,
a midnight message for me,
a Zola accusatory,
“You make me think about death and doorways and sleep”

no mere paper cut incision,
bandaid and triple bacterial,
a forehead kiss
and a-on-your-way

nope serious business

death and doorways and sleep
and all that is in between,
nightly rehanging the me-moon,
on that curved tip

the onerous tasks of child raising,
you, the perp, the perpetual kid,
the holy version victim trinitized
too?

hanging your self right on that shining orbital,
leads to unquestionable answer processions
ahead of the unanswerable, they ask,
what’s behind the screen door of

death and doorways and sleep


life is hard,
but without questions,
it is unquestionably
harder

find the doorways.

this explains so little
and so more much.

reminder: make doorways - open them

11:10pm 4-10-19 ~ 10:31am 4-16-19

~for AH~
ryn Feb 2015
Blue clouds gaze the wrapped sun
frozen kisses in my blood
travelling a thousand miles
to meet up with you.

There is none else walking
down this path where memories
wake up and dance
inside my armored heart.

I peeled off each kisses embrace
out of my parched lips.
I shook off the tree,
where your scent had blossomed.

Every step down this scarcely trodden path saw...
Each peel fall with helpless, damsel-like grace.
Brown leaves shone amber touched by fingers of the sun
Invasion of warmth through my greyed bony carapace.

Gentle tremors reverberate within with subtle anguish.
Sweet scented portal that took me back,
To the illusion of time where we once were...
In drunken stupor...laying under a star strewn canvas of black.

Senses that spoke of a great fantastical tale.
You are still here... In this cloying void with no one around...
Only that scent...your scent tugging on my core
Invisible tendrils berthing my feet back on ground.


Alone and wanting don't want to be anymore.
I want to feast my lungs on your skin once more.
I want to vibrate under your touch again,
In anguished anticipation and sweet pain.

I hurl your name to the echoing wind,
Blowing ferociously over the closed passage.
Only to find that I'm but elongating
the distance between our fading wishful stars.

Fading far only to find that I'm lost yet again,
Still harvesting a basket full of ripened hope.
Traversing planes with warped, slanted doorways,
Frantically seeking purchase on knobs with fevered gropes.

Heavy layered breaths inhaled too shallow...
Tracing missteps to decipher what it all meant.
When all is moot...weary, weathered and futile,
Forever I'll be bathing in the familiarity of your soothing, nectarous scent...



Dajena M
**ryn
My first collab with the incredible Dajena M. She had deleted her account and the collaborative pieces she had posted went away as well. But... I found them!!! Yay!

I'm so glad we had the chance to collaborate on such an amazing piece together.
L B Jan 2017
Her shoulder rose like the moon
above the black velvet of bolero jacket
She took his arm, his eyes--
An apogee
She took the room
in reverence

So slowly
shed the mountains
shed the light
hand to touch their wonder
Gazing after
her noiseless ascent
which never happened
while they watched....

Pearls—
roll against warmth
luxuriating offspring
cool encircling
contents iridesce
their energies’ warning:
Nothing quite that simple
Nothing quite that still

Nothing like the opulence
on the Proud Eve of catastrophe

Pearls—
caught in the lining
of what never happens the first time....

She heard them before she saw them
rip their orbits!
fission her universe!
in the mezzanine of the symphony hall
Pin ball in the Fun House
Bingo bounce
off—
the hardwoods of space....

Universal Theory of Scatter?
Even now I can still hear the clatter
of their round smooth souls
in the doorways of distant relatives

How could I know?
You would condemn me
to find them all?
I think it is possible to know the high water mark of your life.
onlylovepoetry Jul 2017
if only I knew how to love...

for my Victoria

winces-grimaces, that these words even leave my fingertips,
reminiscences, a chrome bookmark tab full of decades of near misses,
instances, subway sideway stolen daily glances of she who would be the only, the one, but one day failed to appear, left to dream peer,
and/or
decades long of romanced lasses, flying spectacular super crashes, when my heart-blanched, lanced, and the lawyers danced, poems shriveled as dried ink crack'd and words rusted shut,
cut by so many p'raps, and **** motives, beautiful covered up, disguised as synapses of sin and insincerity, and I,
the sad man,
both the sinner and the sinned against,
totalities, of shoulda-woulda-asked/kissed-her-gallantly,
activities, when kisses were doorways to trap door rooms
and an over decorated monte cristo prison cell

ah well

the 'and yet,' the 'but for,' a single finger, sealing silenced lips,
passions mourned and irrevocable sensations, frittered, fractured,
all that I calmly called love was sprigs and broken branches,
cut flowers destined to shrivel,
not of what I believed in, something akin to a tree rooted, an oaken strong unbreakable love

of this certain, all approximations, all failed incantations,
for surely, if but only one escaped, could have been saved,

and if truthful love it was,
I would have known it,
for would I have dared to let slip away?
7/14/17
Chris Saitta Jun 20
Autumn was an old Viennese street held up in sacrifice to the sky,
With burnt-song offerings that still see through the clouds, as they see through you.
His was cobbler craft of reed-winded flame for the foot in tune,
Amid the outsnuffed shopkeepers’ lights and the candlesmoke of midnight hours,  
Pulsing above the inner heart of the Ringstrasse
Of brass signs and paving stones, misted and mute.
His was the candelabra of wick-notes
Wanded through the windowed rooms of forested night.
His were those woods filled with doorways, bookcases, and stairs
And everything dim and warm with people, no longer there.

***

The winter sunlight played across the keyboard of crypted windows,
And in the muted under-roofs of ice and snow,
On one window, like a hand in whole rest,
The caramelized glass swallowed the flame-image of the stray redbird
And the black carriage wheels that passed.

In the long hallway of the Viennese flat,
One candle remained lit in the mouth of song.
The Ringstrasse is the well-known road around Old Vienna, the inner heart of the city.

For a slide video of this and other poems, please check out my Instagram page at ChrisSaitta or my Tumblr page at Chris-Saitta.
David N Juboor Dec 2015
My mom
Tells me I'm a gift.

She says love
Is what keeps the atoms
In you and I
Is the moment
She caught my
Father's eye
Is the day
My grandfather died
With a candy kiss on his cheek
She had never tasted something so sweet.

When we were little
We played kickball,
The ground is lava
And hide-and-go-seek.
As I grew I knew most days,
It was harder to find myself;
Let alone somebody else.

And I have been around
Enough center city playgrounds
To see the homeless
Pump every bit of spare change
In their veins fighting
A cancer that they
Never learned to put in their past.
Enough to see the rich
Wage wars with themselves
Trying to pick up
Way too much,
Way too fast;

Nobody really knows how to make love last.

So put your prism your heart
Beneath the moonlight.
Refract the wavelengths
Of your wonders
Into ROYGB-eautiful like the sea,
It took a lot of jellyfish to let
people see through me.

And even more mirrors
To find a place I was comfortable
Praying in.

Fraying in doorways
Where I learned hope,
Is looking both ways
On a one way street
Cause it can be so easy to thank God
While you still have bread to eat.

I have never prayed
So hard for a healthy meal
Than the days I remember
The heart is a muscle;
And sometimes the only
Thing we need
Is to "work it out."

And I know that some days,
My doubt hangs my
Smile like Jesus Christ
I never quite learned
How to bleed right.

But if there's one thing
I found from cleaning
The crosses out of the
Empty hallway of my character
Is that you haven't experienced loss
Until you've held two outstretched arms
For years waiting for your innocence to come back.
Nothing, weighs more than the guilt of your past
And nothing throws punches
Faster than the ghost of who you used to be.

And I know it's hard
To stop looking for yourself
Under every bed you
Left nightmares in
And I know it's hard
To be comfortable
In your own skin

But sometimes bars
Aren’t the only thing
That builds a cage
And sometimes
The only way to live
With yourself
Is to stop digging
Your own grave.

You can spend years
Listening to morticians
And never get grounded.
Surrounded by the
Square roots we all share,
By the same air,
We've all got to learn to let go.

To learn that
Holding your breath
Has never been how
Living things
Learn to
Grow
"We're all hurtling towards death, yet here we are for the moment, alive. Each of us knowing we're going to die, each of us secretly believing we won't"
Terry O'Leary Jul 2015
The dawn unfolds beyond my fractured windowpane
and breezes tease while drapes, like serpents, slip aside
exposing worlds that race and run aground, insane,
displaying scenes obscene that savants strive to mask and hide.

Outside, the streets are stark (last night they seemed so cruel
when demons danced as lanterns 'lumed the lynching tree -
its shadow shuddered, lurking in my vestibule -
within the night, I sense these things I sometimes cannot see).

Perdu in darkened doorways (those which watch the ones that weep)
men hide their shame in crevices in search of cloaked relief.
The ladies of the evening leave (their time to sleep!)
the alleyways, retaining bitter tastes of untold grief.

Soon drifters (distraught dregs that stray from street to street)
abandon benches, squat on curbstones some call home,
appeal to strangers for a coin or simple bite to eat -
refused… gaze down… left empty-handed in the morning gloam.

Observe with me, beyond my fractured windowpane,
the boy with crooked smile - the one who's seen the  beast -
with tears, he stoops and clasps the cross while wiping off the stain -
the abbey door along the lane conceals a pious priest.

While at the mall, Mike sees some cigs, and stealth'ly steals a pack;
the Man, observing, thinks ‘Hey Boy, this caper calls for blood’,
takes aim, then shoots the fated stripling eight times in the back.
Come, mourn for Mike and brother Justice, facedown in the mud.

Fatigued and bored, some kids harass the alley now -
to pass the time, Joe smokes a joint and Lizzy snorts a line;
computer games (which quake with doom) can help somehow,
so Eric plays with Dylan on the road to Columbine.

The shanty towns have hunkered down as if in mortal sport
while broken bodies' shattered bones repose supine,
and mamas (now bereft of child) in anguished pain contort,
their eyes drip drops of wrath which wither on a twisted vine.

Now Mr Baxter, private bankster (cruising down the road,
pursuing profit pushers, waving magic mushroom wands),
adores addiction to the bailout (coffers overflowed)
and jests with all the junkies, while he's dealing with the bonds.

Marauders man the marketplace (with billions guaranteed)  
while kids with swollen bellies beg neath hollow sunken eyes,
and (cut to naught) the down-and-out (like trodden beet roots) bleed.
Life's carousel invites us all, though few can ring the prize.

A washerwoman, timeworn, totters from the tram -
she shuffles to her hovel on a lonesome distant hill,
despondent, shuts the shutters, downs her final dram -
a magpie quickly picks at crumbs forsaken on the sill.

Jihadist and Crusader warders faithfully guard the gates,
behead impious infidels, else burn them at the stake
(yes, God incites each side for good, the other side He hates),
with saintly satisfaction gained provoking pagan ache.

The watchers pry behind our fractured windowpanes
inspect us all, tear down the walls of privacy
controlling every point of view opinion entertains,
forbidding thoughts one mustn't think, with which they don’t agree.

Come, cast a furtive glance… there's something in the far…
from towns to dunes in deserts dry, the welkin belches sudden death
by dint of soulless drones that stalk beneath a straying star
erasing life in random ways in freedom’s final breath.

But closer lies an island, where the keepers keep the wards.
No sense, no charges nor defense - a verdict? Yes! … grotesque -
the guiltless gush confessions, born and bred on waterboards.
Impartial trials? A travesty instead, indeed quite Kafkaesque.

Now dusk draws near beyond my fractured windowpane
while mankind drowns like burnt-out suns in fading lurid light;
and scarlet clots of grim deceit and ebon beads of bane
flow, deified, within the rotting corpse of human night.
Tommy Randell Nov 2017
We create our Love                            
By violence   Flame
In the kindness of a smile   Only gives meaning
                                        To miles of wax
                                     In the moment                                                          
­                         Of our laughter   Trembles in the struggle
The beginnings of a child   Dances                      
                                    The clear pool
But as we open                    
                       Doorways   Cannot embrace it
Stoop from being tall   Burning              
                                       ­      Hopefully to arrive
It’s best that we remember                                        
                   Life is always   Astride her melting
        As we live it   Exchanging
                                                  ­The wisdom of pearls
Fatal to us all                  .
Poems for two voices always pose a difficulty when it comes to indicating how the different speakers should interact, start & stop in relation to the other, and so on. On the WORD page it is easy to orient the two voices visually and make an attenpt at least - Here on the screen with limited formatting it is little more difficult. We'll see how it works out...
What is meant for me?
I'm constantly walking through doorways, that have me slowly Falling out of the sky,
Falling,
Deeper,
Deeper,
Into a hopeless pit of UN-Returned love.
Watching the sky fall away from my grasp,
as the ***** hands of time yank me further down.
how much longer until I have nothing left?
how far away is the ground?
I see faces of beautiful people,
but as I reach out I see,
the **** heart within.
I look,
through the hands of time,
that yank me further down,
to find the one,
destined for me.
Excitedly I say once,
"if Love were a substance,
if only more than
some sort of word, more concrete”
“If only”

If rather than heard
in song made wispy or absurd,
instead made bold
in your face
apparent
A freak-show, cirque du taste
such theatrics (once)
those lips—film noir of your thrilling face.

Undeniable you
unabashed like a growth
to the left
a mole on your kind skin
red lipstick puckering miss Monroe
eyes that ooze dreamy

How I always noticed you, once
saying "Ooh look here, this is love"
pointing to that dot,
but i know love is more than
a tiny tiny blemish
(or Marilyn's coy mole).

Like how once, a beauty marked me
with what was quick-draw and newly raw,
touching with much whirling
such were we
openly exposed to...

So wretchedly loud
made so astute
where we partook,
briefly donning heaven in our looks.
hold on to my arms - keep a grip,
Hold on
i say to what was once

Love, heavy as when you
Were letting go,
caustic as your doubts, when
i remember saying then

"look here -- once, this was love"
now just a gesture
where stood my shadow
as I regret
not informing you : "should of
kept your eyes open
during the fall
should of kept honest is all..."

If only love to you
was of some real substance,
beyond misty hours or
something like
the prose of rain to heartache
empty like open doorways of us before
because
once is now
no more.
(Repost Revised)
“As my soul falls into the luring darkness of dolorous woe,
My voice calls out to her in a very Ignominy way of hope,
There's a hole in heart a void in my mind a deep desire,
Those of who live on the seaboard standing near brine,

Constant edges of decision insensate alone satiated in dreams,
For of us who were etch with angst like a faint line amidst our lives,
In need for something convivial of exploits and adventures,
One cannot choose who to love in doorways of futile ignominy,

Clench to your chimera that guard you through lonesome nights,
The chimera comes and goes through dwarf hours until the dawn,
Inward dreams so engulf one seeking rapport of future draws,
Note and answer in the lateness of the world primal lamenting,

Push away despair nurture the moments that is ones destiny,
Cast off the anger and the memory of a deep entrenched seed,
At sunrise be not afraid it may not remain when the sunsets,
For each heart there is another that caused your heart to bleed,  

Exculpate the once scintillating brazenly resolute bond with others,
Once again nurture hope to hold fast to dreams not futile ignominy”

By Andrew Guzaldo 2/25/2019 ©
By Andrew Guzaldo 2/25/2019 ©  #Poem#152 Hello Poetry
We create sparks of attention
And anonymous dissections
Desiccated candles and lanterns
Harness our ambivalence with lumens
Plumes of living ions saunter
In through our doorways
While we force ourselves to breathe
Grateful for the grace
To write my piece in peace
In a world where everything
Grabs your attention
Like an iron claw that tries
To grip you tight and hold onto the beast
Celia Rose Jul 15
You are the Titan of Tears,
Sobbing to the unforgiving milkman
Who breaks your ***** bottles
And feeds you curdled milk
From withering cattle.
He crunches around broken glass
With his scuffed leather boots on your front porch
As you watch from a hole in your bedroom wall,
Losing your first piece of dignity
And the last of the sanity carrying you since age ten.
You are the Titan of Tears,
Crying to the cutthroat poetess
Who refuses to send your estranged sister
A collection of misery soaked poetry.
She burns your insincere words in front of the mailbox;
Stanza by stanza the ash coats your mouth
Like lipstick for the ******.
Spiraling into smoke as she walks away
Fast enough to lose her in the midst of your fit.
The Titan of Tears—
You whimper in torn apart doorways
To block out strangers who will never appear.
You, Titan,
Who only feels clean when flossing
In the harshest of summer storms
Because you believe your great God is washing
Sins out of your matted hair.
You, Titan,
Whose childhood feels never-ending like evening traffic.
Childhood is the milky smoke you witness
Seeping from your dying neighbor’s chimney;
Childhood stares at you
Like glassy eyed pigeons outside of your office window
As you weep into your cold black coffee, Titan.
Your lacking adulthood is full of sloppy attempts to silence
Barking dogs in your slush brain,
Pushing down the bile that rises in your flaking throat,
As water floods your eyes like a basement during Katrina
And feeding worms writhe out of your flared nostrils,
Covered in snot and blackened discharge.
You are the Titan of Tears;
Your weeping rivals Mother Mary’s ****** streaks.
i am proud of this one.
Star BG Jun 13
I woke up to the morning light
smiled and returned to sleep,
curling back into a dream.

It carried purple clouds
and sweet fragrances in air.
Vibrations brought me through doorways
to open my heart
It made me feel delightful
as rainbows filled sky
and hugs came inside wind.
It caused me to feel love
smiling in energies of peace
as I drifted curled in a cloud.
Inspired by TS Poetry Many thanks
Bijan Rabiee Jun 2
Earth is no picnic park
And varmints rife
Tread wisely
Through the forest of life
Taking each stride
With feelings apt
And each leap
With Procrustes nap
You are surely lost
In wilderness of trust
Running sideways
Zigzagging the gust
Even when you feel
Right as rain
The demons lurk
In the doorways of your brain
Your world's a window
Overlooking dreams
Urging you to follow them
And outshine the seers.

'Tis but a motion picture
Rolling in your head
Juggling your thoughts
In shadowy grid
And you, the homemade actor,
Starring in its yield
Navigating the system of habits
The fertile meadows
That breed your needs.

And when the end nears
And the story spins you away
The trail of your fashion
Seems like a shooting star
Bright, burning and then cold
Expressing the journey's hold
A meteorite to be explored.
Amanda Nov 2018
Look at the eyes in my own reflection
Young yet full of so much pain
I wear invisible armor undetectable
To keep guarded from love's aim

Padded heart is cushioned well
Securing feelings when I fall
My ears braced for the eventual goodbye
Ready to crash each time you call

My eyes prepared for the tears to flow
Deep purple bags will appear again soon
My emotions are made of glass
Worn smooth by tides pulled by the moon

Can't ******* hesitation?
Interest can be a dangerous game
Take your hand with the expectation
It will end like others, always the same

Plucking my disappointments from within
Send to a distant land
Tempted to chase after them
But how can I run if unable to stand?

I turn desire to doubt
Open doorways to uncertainty
Shut the ones with stability on the other side
Negative mind will cause you to flee

You can't say I didn't give you fair warning
What did you expect?
Closed off from the world for a reason
Built walls around my heart to protect

Hoping for the best, fearing the worst
Your infatuation appears too good to be real
Trying to stay strong but I am falling hard
Please let me know if this is how you truly feel
Sometimes I wish I was a mind-reader
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